He thought about Leicester and the alumni. Wondered how long it would take to gain control over his gift, as Leicester called it. How would the lessons work? Would Leicester tutor him one-on-one so he could catch up with the others? Would they recite incantations in class? Practice spell-casting on the soccer field? Would his not having a Weirbook be a handicap? He'd always been popular among the Anaweir. Would he have trouble making friends among the gifted?

Leicester had said that Seph had a Weirbook somewhere. If so, he could find the answers to his questions between the covers.

Some of them, anyway.

Maybe he should try and get to know some of the alumni right away. Organize a study group. Make some allies who could help him along.

Preferably someone other than Hays and Barber.

He finally gave up and set his textbook aside. Shoving his feet into his shoes, he walked down the hall to Trevor's room. Trevor's door was open, and Seph heard the throb of a heavy bass line halfway down the corridor.

Trevor was sprawled on the sheepskin rug in front of his fireplace, two-finger typing into a notebook. Papers and books lay scattered all around him. He looked up at Seph, blinking, as if surprised to see him.

“Let's do something,” Seph said.

Trevor hit the mute button on his player and squinted at Seph. “Such as … ?”

“Anything,” Seph said expansively. “Let's go.”

“I don't know. I've got a lot of homework.” Trevor hesitated, studying Seph warily. “By the way, you okay? How'd it go with Leicester last night?”

“Fine. Great. We talked things out, and we're okay.”

“You're kidding, right?”

Trevor looked so solemn that Seph had to smile. “Yeah, I'm kidding. Sort of. You coming? It's going to be dinnertime pretty soon, anyway.”

They walked out into the dusk. Seph breathed in the complex, burnt-toast scent of the autumn woods.

Trevor became more animated once they'd left the dorm and his homework behind. “Maybe we can get a racquetball court and play before dinner,” he said.

Seph looked down at his jeans and sweatshirt. “What about dressing for dinner?”

Trevor grinned. “It's Sunday. Weekend rules. Dr. Leicester's usually not around.”

They were passing the Alumni House. “Hey, hang on a sec. Let's take a look inside.”

“No, Seph, come on.” Trevor grabbed for his arm, but Seph was already through the doorway.

The foyer opened into a common room with a large stone fireplace at one end framed by bookshelves. Leather sofas crouched like stranded bovines along the perimeter of a Persian rug. It was similar in style to the other buildings Seph had seen, but more opulent, more expensively decorated, aggressively masculine. No one was in there, but Seph could hear the murmur of conversation and clatter of silverware from a nearby room.

Trevor gripped his arm hard. “We're not supposed to be in here,” he whispered.

“I just want to look around a little,” Seph whispered back. “Don't worry. It's cool.”

“I mean it,” Trevor persisted. “Let's go.”

Seph scanned the directory next to the stairwell. “Hey, there's a library on the second floor. Have you ever been up there?”

“No. I said. We're not allowed.”

“I bet they have Internet access.”

“Seph. I'm leaving. Come on.” Trevor took two steps toward the door.

“Be right back.” Seph took the steps by twos, paused on the landing, and turned left along the gallery, passing rows of unmarked doors. A door at the end of the hallway stood partly open. Peering in, he saw rows of shelves loaded with dusty, leather-bound books. A flicker of movement to the right startled him. He jerked back, flattening himself against the corridor wall. Then he heard an explosion of voices from the first floor.

“What are you doing in here?” someone demanded. The voice was familiar. Then something or someone was slammed hard against the wall.

Seph leaned over the gallery railing. Bruce Hays had Trevor shoved up against the wall. Seph heard a scraping of chairs, and then a half dozen others poured in from the dining room, forming a jostling semicircle around Bruce and his captive. Warren Barber was among them.

Trevor said something back, so faintly that Seph couldn't make out the words. Whatever it was, it must have been unsatisfactory, because Bruce did something and Trevor screamed.

“Hey!” Seph charged back along the gallery and vaulted down the stairs. He shoved his way through the circle of wizards and gripped Brace's arm. “Let him go!”

Bruce flinched, released Trevor, and swung around, hands raised as if to fight. His eyes widened when he saw Seph. “What? You're with him?”

Warren Barber turned on Trevor. “You know you're not allowed in here,” he said in a soft voice. Barber extended a hand, and Trevor pressed himself back against the wall, closing his eyes, sweat pebbling his forehead despite the chill in the air.

“Ease up. It was my idea,” Seph said, stepping between them. He smiled and shrugged, turning on the charm. “I just wanted to look around.”

Warren wasn't impressed. “This one should know better.” Warren's breath stank of beer, and he spoke with the deliberation of the profoundly wasted. He reached around Seph, grabbing at Trevor, and Trevor jumped backward.

Seph pushed Warren's hand away. “I don't see why it's such a big deal. What are you hiding in here?”

“Well, it is,” Warren said, rubbing his stubbled chin with the palm of his hand. “It is a big deal.”

“Warren …” Bruce cleared his throat.

“Didn't Dr. Leicester tell you to be careful who you hang out with?” Warren said to Seph, nodding at Trevor.

Seph lifted his chin defiantly. “Come on. Do you do everything Leicester tells you to?”

Warren's smile faded, leaving resentment in its wake. “What do you mean by that?”

Seph looked around the circle of wizards, his gaze lingering for a moment on each face. “I mean that my friends are my business.”

Nobody said anything for a long moment. Then Warren shrugged and smiled, as if trying to disclaim all the threats and innuendos that had gone before. But the smile never made it into his eyes. “All right then,” he said. “It's just a—you know—misunderstanding.”

“It's cool, Joseph,” Bruce said reassuringly. “Wait till you move in here. It'll be great. The other dorms suck in comparison. The food's a lot better, too. Hey, why don't you come on in and have dinner with us? We can fill you in on some things.”

It was an invitation that clearly did not include Trevor.

Seph was tempted. He could definitely use some filling in. But he felt the need to establish a boundary, to make a statement about who he was and what he would tolerate. “I've already got plans tonight,” he said, smiling. “Maybe another day?”

“Sure,” Bruce said. “Come to dinner tomorrow. We start around seven.”

Trevor looked from Bruce to Seph to Warren. “Don't tell Dr. Leicester I was here,” he whispered. “Please.”

Warren smiled wolfishly. “What's the matter? Afraid you'll get a demerit?”

“Please,” Trevor repeated. “I'm really sorry. Just don't tell Leicester.”

“Maybe you'd like to be my personal servant for a month. Hmmm?” Warren said. He grinned at the other wizards. “Trevor is very good at doing laundry. Much better than the service. Gets those colors sparkling.”

“Hey, Warren,” Seph said, keeping his tone light. “Enough already. What don't you understand about leave him alone?”

Warren raised a hand, grinning. “Sure. No problem. See you tomorrow.”

Seph touched Trevor on the shoulder. “Come on, Trevor. We got places to be.”

Once outside, Trevor didn't speak, but turned and headed back toward the dormitory, head down, scuffling hard through the leaves.

Seph had to trot to catch up. “Hey! Trevor! Look, I'm sorry. You were right. I should've listened to you.”

Trevor didn't look up, and his pace didn't falter. Finally, Seph grabbed his arm, spinning him around. “Talk to me, will you?”

Seph half expected Trevor to rip free, or punch him, or something, but he just stood, gazing down at the ground, a muscle working in his jaw.

“I said I should've listened to you,” Seph repeated. “That was totally bizarre. But no harm done, right?”

Trevor looked up at Seph like he'd told the sickest kind of joke. “Right. Sure. No harm done.”

He went to turn away, but Seph tightened his grip on his arm to keep him in place.

“Let. Go. Of. Me.” Trevor kept his eyes averted, as if it might be dangerous to look at him.

Seph kept hold. “What? What is it?”

Trevor just shook his head.

Seph carefully released a trace of power into Trevor. Feeling bad about it, but needing to know.

He could tell Trevor didn't want to answer, but the words poured out just the same. “You never said you were one of them.”

“One of who?” Seph asked, though he already knew.

Trevor cut his eyes toward Alumni House.

“I'm not an alumnus,” Seph said, lamely. “I'm a junior. It's just that I'm enrolling in a special program.” Trevor said nothing. “Ah … why? What do you know about them?”

Trevor shuddered. “I don't want to know anything about them—you.” Now he did try and wrench free, and Seph let him. “You don't care what happens to any of us. Some of us listened to Jason, and …”

“Who's Jason?”

“He told us we should fight back, and we tried, and now Sam is dead and Peter and Jason are living at the Alumni House.”

Trevor may as well have been speaking in Japanese. He'd left Seph back at the first sentence. “Fight back against what? Who's dead? I don't know what you're talking about.”