Pozella sighed. “I can’t deny that would be a proper plan. I can stall them for another week.”
“I’ll get it done, sir,” Quint said.
Quint worked on the mental shield weave four times daily for an hour and a half each session. He interspersed more work in the classroom texts.
On the fourth day of concentrated work, he found the correct technique for the weave. The string split into five compound threads midway up the string before reverting to the original pattern. Making his tendrils durable for the time it took to weave the string probably gave wizards the most difficulty.
Quint spent another whole day working on speeding up the weave and found Pozella in his office.
“I am ready.”
Pozella struggled to his feed. “Shall I test you?”
Quint nodded. He had already cast the string before he walked into Pozella’s office. “But you can’t make strings,” Quint said.
Pozella chuckled. “Even though I lost my fingers, some of my ability to generate tendrils returned. I’ve never told anyone. I lost my taste for fighting when I lost my mobility. I suppose it also comes with age.”
“Do your worst.”
“You don’t mean that, but I won’t hold back on the strings that could be thrown at you.”
Quint stood at attention while he could see Pozella create strings and toss the magic at Quint. He could feel the buffeting of the wizardry, but his shield seemed to hold until Pozella shot a string at him that slammed him against the wall.
It took a moment for Quint to catch his breath. “What was that?”
“A levitation string,” Pozella said. “One you don’t know. Relying on one defense is dangerous. It is a lesson I wanted to leave with you.”
“And my mental shield?”
Pozella shrugged. “It did what it should. You are as ready as any sixteen-year-old I’ve taught. I’ll see if we can set up a panel for tomorrow.”
Quint recognized two of the three panelists. Pozella sat in the back of the room. He faced the woman who had interviewed him before, the wizard who had tested him, still wearing his white coat, and a uniformed officer with many badges adorning his chest.
The officer introduced himself as the fort commandant and lifted a sheet from an open file. “Recruit Quinto Tirolo. You have been recommended for promotion. You must learn ten strings to advance, but Master Pozella claims you can demonstrate thirty. Is that right? Don’t lie. We demand that you demonstrate all thirty. Fail to do so, and you will suffer consequences.”
“I have a question, sir,” Quint said.
The officer nodded and waved his assent.
“Some threads require objects.”
“No need. Our distinguished testing officer can see threads and you will be judged on your weaves.
Quint had already protected himself from mental strings, so the tester wouldn’t have to see Quint create the protection he felt he needed.
Quint stood before the panel and went through each string as he had learned them. Some of his strings were offensive for use in the field of battle, and the officer flinched a few times during the demonstration. Quint felt the pressure of psychic threads cast at him, but they didn’t affect him. He included all four psychic threads and sat down, eventually demonstrating thirty-two.
The testing officer stood and clapped. “I knew you’d excel!”
The commandant glared at the testing officer and requested that he sit down.
“You have learned another thread you didn’t disclose,” the commandant said.
The door to the conference room opened, and an older officer came in. “He didn’t stutter or fall asleep, did he?” the older man asked.
“No, he didn’t,” a perturbed commandant said before turning to Quint. “You used a shield thread.”
“I know one,” Quint said, “and I invoked it before I came. I didn’t want to be distracted while progressing through my strings.”
The testing officer slapped his knee, grinning, earning him another glare from the commanding officer.
“We have had some precocious recruits through here demonstrating twenty or more threads, but you are the first who have gone past thirty,” the commandant said. “I have no choice but to promote you to a Level Three rating. That doesn’t mean you will get a command, but there are privileges to the rating. You will travel to Bocarre in two days and be presented to the Wizard Corps headquarters, where you will demonstrate your strings again and answer questions regarding your classroom training. You are dismissed.”
The woman raised her eyebrows, the testing officer winked at Quint and Pozella escorted Quint from the conference room as quickly as he could.
“You dodged a string,” Pozella said. “I thought the commandant was going to charge you for insubordination for having prepared yourself with the protection string.”
“He tried to throw me off.”
“Indeed, he did. Your instincts are better than mine, I suppose. Let’s get you ready for your journey.”
Quint shrugged. “What is there to get ready? I have my four books, my portfolio of string diagrams, and three uniform changes. I even have a bag to put them all.”
Pozella stopped and stared at Quint. “I suppose that is all you need. When you pass the wizard board, you will get a dark green uniform if you go out into the field or a black uniform if you are assigned a non-fighting position.”
“They will let me fight?” Quint asked.
