After his successful completion of the Nightfall ritual, the College allowed Rory some time to rest … but not very much. When a young apprentice came by his quarters to retrieve him, he felt as if he had barely closed his eyes to sleep. Almost seven hours have elapsed, however, though the island of Caroban remains shrouded in twilight by his magic.

The apprentice leads him to Shadow's main hall, a major thoroughfare for practitioners of the Sphere, where Mage Heather waits. She watches him enter without comment, her ears flopped casually back against her head, then informs him, "You are to work the ritual 'Conceal' here. Your target will be a purple canister – twelve inches tall, four wide – currently located in the lecture hall of Water. Once the ritual is complete here, you are to hold it, go to the lecture hall, and conceal the canister. Your spell will be tested for thoroughness by a team of five non-mages who will enter the lecture hall to do a visual search for the canister.

"This team will inspect the hall in – " the Lapine mage pauses to glance at the face of a pocket watch, " – four hours and forty five minutes. Do you have any questions?"

Rory nods. "What non-magical methods are allowed to assist in concealing the canister – and what's prohibited – and should I assume that no additional spells are allowed to be used to supplement Conceal?"

"You are not to touch or move the canister, nor are you to use any other mundane means of concealing it." The mage smirks for a moment, adding, "Any magic you wish to work to conceal it must be done here, in this hall, under my supervision. If you think you can work multiple spells during the time allotted and hold them until you get to the canister, far be it from me to stop you." She folds her arms across her chest.

Rory nods, accepting this in stride, as his question isn't a commitment on his part to actually do so. "What is the canister made out of, and do I need to account for any senses beyond standard ranges of vision?"

"Visual only. It is fashioned of dyed ceramic," she answers.

Rory nods. "Will I be remaining in the room while the search is going on, and can I perform active maintenance on the ongoing magical effect?"

The answer comes easily; Mage Heather doesn't appear to need any time to consider the implications of it. "You may remain in the room during the search if you choose, but you may not adjust the spell after it has been set, nor otherwise hinder or impede the searchers."

The unicorn nods, and tosses out of his head the idea of using a Scrying cantrip as a means of trying to get an extra edge on noticing whether any searchers might be figuring out the canister's location, and surreptitiously tweaking the spell to compensate. "Thank you, Mage Heather. I am ready to begin, then," he says in his best attempt at sounding grown-up and professional, keeping his chin up, ears back, and trying to keep his tail from swishing.

"Then you may do so." The mage settles onto one of the nearby benches, crossing her legs, and looking at him expectantly.

The unicorn looks about for the most likely spot to set up a ritual circle, and not be overly in the way of traffic going through the hall.

The particular spot Heather chose to meet him at is reasonably out of the way, given the sheer size of the hall, and an area near the wall, between one of the archways and the bench the Lapine picked, seems suitable. If the unicorn had his way, he would probably choose some place a good deal more private – but then again, a mage won't always have the luxury of choosing the time and place for a casting.

The little unicorn takes a deep breath, assesses his surroundings, and starts getting to work. If I take short-cuts, he tells himself mentally, that'd be dumb. I have to get this Conceal to work, or I'll never graduate! But … maybe I can toss in a couple of extra spells if I have time left over… And with that, he sets up his magic circle in the least intrusive manner he can, rolling out a tarp to sit on rather than the cushy (and less than stable) surface of the carpet. He sets out many colored stones – his very best colored stones – and doesn't bother the flashy effects of candles, which he deems as more appropriate for "entertainment" spells anyway. (Trying to keep from view is a lot different than entertainment.)

Since it's the most important ritual, he starts first on Conceal. It's a relatively flexible spell, but it would work far better if he were actually in the room and familiar with the object he were trying to hide. As it is, the Lecture Hall of Water is not a place he has had cause to visit with any frequency. In fact, he's not even sure that he's seen it at all since reaching Caroban. His imagination, however, alerts him to the possibility of the rippling effects of reflected light from water that may play about the room, something that he'll have to account for, rather than assuming, say, that the light will come solely from wall-mounted torch sconces, or direct sunlight.

The passersby in the Hall keep back from his tarp, giving him plenty of room to work in. If the College mages were deliberately trying to distract him during the Nightfall ritual, they seem far less intent on doing so this time. Although there are more people gathered here than were at the peak of his ritual yesterday, they don't seem especially interested in him. Certainly no one is trying to engage his attention in a deliberately one-sided conversation with him. Instead, the clusters of people – apprentices, journeymen, mages, support staff – seem to be intent on their own business. Many of the conversations seem surprisingly boisterous in the otherwise subdued atmosphere. Occasionally Rory thinks he hears his name among the discussions, and now and again he'll catch someone looking his way, but on the whole the traffic seems everyday, ordinary.

The unicorn breathes a sigh of relief at this – at least, while he has a chance to do so. Then, he ponders the math work. Ritual. Ritual equals one hour. On surface. He's in Caroban. In Caroban, spells take four times as long. He has … he struggles here to remember … an hour and forty-five minutes.

He gulps. As much as he'd like to show off by being careful … it looks like this spell will be impossible unless he accelerates the casting time! His ears blanch at the realization. Too long on the surface, and he's forgotten to make that simple math – Good thing I caught myself before casting, he tries to assure himself, and wastes no further time in setting out the main circle of stones.

Wait, Rory thinks. Four hours! Four hours! He resists the impulse to smack his forehead like he's seen other apprentices do. Not only would it be painful, considering his species, but it would mess up his casting. His ears drop a bit in embarrassment. He continues setting up geometric lines of stones.

Once he's calmed himself down again, the unicorn finds that the casting goes easily enough, and no one pulls a knife on him or yanks the tarp out from under him. While his chanting is a bit hoarse from all the chanting yesterday, he's brought plenty of fluids to drink, and nothing more fearsome then Heather's gaze arises. After four hours, the spell is glowing upon him, completed – except for the very last word.

Once his casting looks sufficiently sturdy and reinforced – using his "extra" time to double-check it mentally for any flaws – Rory finishes with a series of slow movements about the small ritual circle, stepping to one side, slowly tracing invisible paths through the air with his hands, and then stepping to the other, whispering out a few incantations, and holding off the very last word – as he holds the spell, its magic coalescing into a small ethereal and shadowy figure that looks like an Eeee as drawn by a child with crayon … that is, if a child could draw across three-dimensional space with a crayon, and animate the results. The little mysterious cloaked Eeee (with the big smiley face and triangle ears) flaps its little wings in a repeating dance, as it finds a perch on Rory's horn.

Mage Heather's mouth twitches as the spell takes shape on his horn, then she narrows her eyes and twists her lips into a frown. She hunches her shoulders, tightening her arms, and stands, as if waiting for Rory to leave.

Rory does a quick gauge for the time … then, rather than immediately picking up his spell, starts moving back and forth about the circle, tracing his floppy sleeves through the air, scribbling arcane sigils upon invisible surfaces. He does so with considerable energy, more so than his ritual, and his little held spell "bat" bobs in time, smiling the whole while.

The rabbit frowns, but doesn't say anything as she watches him casting again. She looks puzzled, however.

The unicorn continues this for another minute, plucking bits of shadow from his surroundings, and lumping them together like bits of clay, kneading them and twisting them as he dances and whisper-chants in time, pressing them into an imaginary cylinder … and then stretching from it a very faint shadow, flickering as if cast by light reflected by ripples of water, and smoothing it until it becomes very vague and insubstantial.

The little shadow spell is not terribly impressive by any measure of things. It's a vague little shadow, barely perceptible. As he cuts it off into a held spell, a little crayoned figure – this one a mysterious hooded figure with enormous feet – grabs up the substandard shadow, stuffs it into his cloak, and joins the dancing bat atop Rory's horn.

The rabbit blinks several times at the second spell-figure, extending one hand to brace herself against the bench.

The little unicorn frowns slightly, as his nervousness seems to be greatly compromising his casting abilities today. He could feel both of those spells almost slipping free from his grasp, and he hardly feels like he can manage a third … but he also feels that if he's got the time, he has to use it. He repeats the dance again, slightly different this time, but still the same in general feel, tracing his hands through the air, scribbling signs on imaginary walls, occasionally pausing, licking a finger, and flipping a page in an imaginary book that he scribes sigils in, and eventually from the book forms another little vague shadow. This time, he snips at it with an imaginary pair of scissors, sending scraps of shadow falling away and dissipating before they hit the ground, until he has something that vaguely looks like a shadow as it might be cast by this nondescript canister.

At last, he "sets down" the shadow silhouette on the imaginary book, then closes the invisible pages. The shadow of the silhouette "bleeds" into the surrounding air, forming a faintly purple form of an ethereal sketched-out representation of a book, which flaps its covers like a pair of wings, and flutters over to join the dancing bat, and the two-stepping cloaked figure, making the space on his horn very crowded now. The unicorn then wastes no time in hastily scooping up his material components – He dumps the stones into a "catch-all" pouch, for sorting later, rather than carefully putting them back into their proper pouches, and hastily rolls up the work-tarp.

While Rory works the third spell, his tester just stares at him. She gapes, open-mouthed, as the flitting book joins its two companions on the unicorn's horn. She looks weak-kneed, and after a moment slumps back into the bench, blinking at the apprentice as he gathers his things together to leave.

The unicorn casts a concerned look over at the mage. Tucking away his belongings, he rushes over to her. "Mage Heather! Are you all right? Should I get someone?" He looks about hastily for any Life Mages in the house.

The stunned mage blinks at him a few more times, then shakes her head, frowning. "Ah … no. I'm fine. Just … fine. Finish the test, Rory."

The unicorn nods a few times – the little cartoon figures flailing their wings and arms and opening their mouths as if to squeal in joy at the bouncy ride provided by his horn – and then, mindful of how little time he has to make his way over to the Hall, he clippity-clops outside. "Byeeee!"

As he heads out of the hall, he notices that more than a few eyes are on him. Most of them look rather surprised, too. Maybe it's the cartoonish look that his held spells have…

The young unicorn selected the most direct path to the Hall of Water, which takes him through the gardens near Caroban's heart, in and around the visitor's complex at the center. As with all of the Collegia grounds, the area feels saturated with magic. Ahead of him, however, as he walks a path between two hedges, he can sense a fresh spell, where the path he is on crosses another. The bushes to either side of the end rustle – maybe with a breeze – but he thinks he hears a muffled giggle to the left.

"Hello?" Rory asks. "Are there any magical rituals going on here? I don't want to disrupt anything! Held spells, coming through!" He looks about for any obvious signs of magery, and echoes his attempts to get a feel for the nature of the magic – and whether it might have hazardous effects on his held spells – by actually sniffing at the air as well as perking his ears and trying to reach out with his magical sense.

Another snicker from the far side of the hedge, and then a not-muffled-enough, "Shh! He'll hear you!" From the opposite side, a journeyman Eeee in Earth Mage robes comes around, and waves to the unicorn jauntily. "Hi there, Rory! Haven't seen you in ages – finally making Journeyman, are you?"

The unicorn sighs. What with all the aspects of the test he's run into so far, and how much trouble he's had casting the spell just to get this far, he assumes the worst. Namely, that, of course, this bat mage is really part of a super-secret sect of Babelite mages that is intent on making sure that black-and-white unicorn mages do not graduate from the Sphere of Shadow. Granted, that's a very specialized purpose, but hardly beyond Rory's ability to imagine at this stage. "Not quite yet, but working on it!" Rory responds, and looks about for some other route to take that might still get him to the hall in time. Whispering and giggling bushes just seem to shout out "Ambush!" like nothing else could. Well, except for maybe a big thug going, "Gimme all yer shekels!" and holding a knife, or a banner hanging across saying, "Welcome to Ambush Point".

Fortunately, though he'll have to backtrack several yards to get out of the hedges, and make a loop around a gazebo, there's another path that leads between flowerbeds. Unless they're very, very small, no mages could be hidden around the corners of those.

Unfortunately, Rory is paranoid enough at this point to even be able to imagine mages hiding in the flowerbeds. (He conjures up visions of Earth Mages popping up out of the dirt, flowers balanced on their heads, going, "Surprise!") Another thought strikes Rory's mind. Bribery! "I'm sort of in a hurry right now," he says in as apologetic a tone as he can, "but would you be interested in lunch once I get back from my errand? I've got somewhere important to be, and if I don't royally botch things, maybe we could celebrate or something!" He beams, hoping he doesn't end up looking more like prey in the process.

"Sure, Rory, that'd be great. Not many of us from the old House of Crafters and Seekers left," the Eeee says, a little wistfully. He's not blocking Rory's path in any way at the moment, though if he spread his wings and shifted position he probably could. "Heard all about you taking the test. You're working on the Practical now, right … say … " He pauses, blinking as he watches the spell-figures circling the unicorn's horn. "How many spells are you holding? Is that all just one?"

Rory ponders how to describe them quickly. "Uhm … they're … backups? Sort of. Is it okay if I go on through here and nobody dumps anything on me or hits me with that spell from the bushes?" He hops from one hoof from the other, very anxious. "I don't want to hit a spell conflict or anything like that. Mage Heather is probably watching to see if I cause some sort of mishap on the way to mark me points. I don't think she wants me to pass." If all else fails, Rory ponders running and screaming. The screaming doesn't help, of course. It just makes things a lot more exciting, and serves as a nice distraction. Or something like that.

(It suddenly occurs to Rory that if Mage Heather is watching right now, suggesting that she wants to mark him points is probably due cause for getting marked points. He gulps.)

"You're holding … back … ups … plural?" The journeyman sounds awed, but his last word is almost lost, as there's a thud from behind the bushes, and a yelp, and then the hedges suddenly sprout and start twining madly towards each other. "Hey!" the Eeee squeaks, flapping backwards to avoid being caught by the branches, lashing together like tentacles. "You morons!" he rebukes to whomever's behind the bushes.

"Darrrrrk!" Rory exclaims in awe of the ambulatory branches. Mind back on his predicament, however, he looks to see if there's any opening to slip through without becoming part of the shrubbery. Short of that, he'll just have to chance that backtrack, plus the cost of standing here and jabbering, of course.

While he might be able to squirm through the tangling bushes if he were really fast, lucky, and determined, it looks rather less promising than losing another minute or two walking around.

The unicorn rolls his eyes. Detour it is! He doesn't feel really lucky nor fast, and his determination isn't quite enough to allow for miracles. He opts to make a break for it, while hopefully the commotion will distract any additional am-bush-ers hiding about. Am-BUSH-ers! Rory says to himself. Get it?

The two little shadow-figures on his horn pantomime groaning in response to his thoughts. Everyone's a critic. As he hastily backtracks around to a different path, the Eeee calls out, "Hey, good luck to you, Rory!" He mumbles to himself, "Zakaro's eye! Three spells!" while he tries to pull free one of his sleeves that got caught in the enthusiastic spell.

The unicorn smirks. That was a pretty cool ambush! I've got to use that pun… But for now, he just rushes along, intent on getting to the hall in time, hopefully with time enough to spare to catch his breath…

Nothing else pounces Rory in the gardens or elsewhere along the route, and he makes it to the Sphere of Water's lake without further incident. Unfortunately, unless the little unicorn wants to take up swimming or learn how to fly, the arching bridge provides the only access to his destination, on the central island. It's a pleasant, warm evening, even if darker than usual due to his spell, and various people are out playing on the lake.

The unicorn quickly rules out flight, swimming, or walking on water. He takes the most direct route: the bridge. He keeps a watchful eye out for magical mishaps just waiting to happen – the usual, that is: ladders with painters on them holding buckets of paint (leaning against what? Hey, this is Caroban, after all!), boxes marked "Eeps" or "Fuff'nars", monsters lurking in shadows (exceptionally persistent ones, that is, for being outside in the daylight), sneezy air mages working storm rituals, and so forth.

While none of these things come to mind, he does notice one unusually elaborate display of water geysers near the bridge. He doesn't know how the jets for the lakes many fountains work – if they're magic, or mechanical, or elemental, or some combination – but these particular ones feel distinctly of magic. As he approaches them, he can hear some voices, and catch glimpses of Akwavi and Nagai bodies playing in the spray of them. One of the jets wavers near the bridge, sprinkling its smooth surface with droplets.

The little unicorn mage gulps at the posed threat (imagined though it may be). Nonetheless, he most certainly has no way to get across the water by flying or swimming – not unless someone helped him. "Pardon me!" he says to the nearest water-mage-looking person, preferably someone amphibious who might know the lake more intimately. "Are there any hazards for taking held spells across the bridge? I mean, would anything get disrupted? And does anyone offer any quick rides across the lake if so?"

One of the swimming water Nagai arches above the surface, tail paddling from side to side below the lake to keep him afloat as he listens to the unicorn. "Well, might be you'll get a little wet," he notes, grinning like – well, like a snake. "Don't think there'd be any spell conflicts, as long as your concentration is good. But… " He glances to his fellows in the spray. "If you'd rather take your chances off the bridge, I'll give you a ride to the main isle. Can't say you won't get wet that way, too." He chuckles.

The unicorn ponders the options. This does sound considerably more exciting. "Could you, please? I don't mind getting a bit sprayed, just as long as you don't dunk me. I really have to get to the other side in a hurry, and I don't know how fast I can make it across the bridge and still keep my concentration on my held spells! It's kind of sort of an emergency, because I had to avoid an ambulatory bush in the garden, and I don't know if I'm late now! I'd be really grateful!"

The serpent, a rather long individual with muscular arms and torso, bobs his head, and flicks out his forked tongue. He raises his arms to the boy. The bridge's arch holds it several feet above the water, but the Naga beckons to him anyway. "C'mon down, I'll catch you."

The unicorn's common sense should indicate the bridge as the best bet, but Lord of Light help him (he's taken to that sort of phrasing in his head, since that's what his "father" believed in), he can't pass up a decent adventure! "All right!" He takes a deep breath, concentrates on holding his held spells in check as the little figures cling to his horn for dear existence, and then cries out, "Waahoo!" and takes the leap of faith.

SPLOOSH! The snake does manage to catch him, but beneath the momentum of the jump, they both are driven under the surface of the water. A moment later, the serpent drags himself to the surface again, and after him pulls a bedraggled-looking unicorn, both sputtering. The big-footed figure on Rory's horn coughs and wheezes, pantomiming death-struggles, before he finally submerges beneath an imaginary sea of water, vanishing.

The unicorn frowns severely at the loss of his spell (especially in such anthropomorphized fashion, which adds a severe tinge of guilt as well). He just coughs and sputters and hangs on the best he can, unable to offer any commentary for the time being.

The Nagai swings the boy around and settles him on his shoulders. "Hang on tight!" he tells Rory. "One ride to Waterland, coming up!" His tail thrashes beneath the surface for a moment, then he plunges forward! His torso submerges again, and Rory is hard-pressed to keep his own head above water as the Naga's body cuts through the lake like a scythe.

The unicorn, not wishing to drown, clamps his mouth closed, though he greatly feels the need to shriek like an Eeee right now, given his circumstances. He can decide later whether it's from terror or thrill, based on whether he comes out of this intact or not.

At the least, this is a lot faster than walking. In fact, they're moving faster than Rory could run. They bounce over waves, spray from their motion and from the fountain jets and elementals mingling together as they rush to the island. In very little time, the Naga is beaching on the golden sands not far from the main building – but for all that he didn't spend long in the water, Rory certainly got thoroughly wet.

The unicorn does his best not to think about the utter pointlessness of using this as a method to avoid getting hit by water sprays on either side of the bridge. Logic would just depress him right now. He quickly dismounts. "Thank you so much! I'm Rorschach Stormshadow of Shadow Sphere! I didn't catch your name? I really appreciate the ride!" he says, though his actual words are broken up by a few coughs and sputters, and all the while, he's hoofing through the sand up the beach, flailing a wet sleeve to wave back to the water Naga.

"Starsea Juni, of the Water Sphere!" the Naga calls back, waving himself. The serpent's grin hasn't diminished in the least. "Good luck with that spell – and the rest of the test!"

"Thaaaaaaanks!" Rory calls out as he dashes the rest of the way, holding his sleeves out like wings so long as he has some elbow room, on the totally untested theory that this might somehow substantially dry them before he gets to the building. "Hang on!" he tells his remaining held spells. "We're almost there!"

The young unicorn rushes into the room, splattering the tile floor with drops of water. No one else is here, meaning he's either got time still, or he's much too late. Aside from the furnishings, the only noteworthy item in the room is a purple cylinder perched on the central table.

The unicorn opts to assume the best, since for the latter, he might as well just give up. "All right, guys!" he says. "Get ready!" He looks about the room, trying to get a feel for the lighting and the general appearance. Noticing that he's splattering the floor with droplets of water, he deliberately clomps about the room this way and that, shedding more puddles, so that his wake of water doesn't tell any inadvertent tales that might somehow give a searcher some clues.

Good thing it's a tile floor. This would be bad to clean up on a carpet – though it is rather fun to be deliberately making such a mess and having a good excuse for it … unless the testing mages might deduct points for that. Urgh. Better not think of that. The isle is outside the range of Rory's Nightfall spell, and so the lighting here isn't irrelevant. Soft bluish lights play out from beneath the waterfalls, giving their glow the distorted, rippling effect Rory anticipated.

Once Rory is reasonably certain he has a good grasp of the appearance of the room from several different vantage points, he pauses a distance away from the table – but still within clear sight of the cylinder upon it – and commands, "Mister Conceal, do your thing! Shadazrata!" He wiggles his fingers in the direction of the cylinder, while the bat-scribble hops from his horn, skips across his arm, gets a good running leap, then flutters across the room, heading toward the cylinder.

Once on the canister, the cartoon Eeee unfolds his wings, and they become ridiculously outsized. The figure spreads wide his arms, then pounces the cylinder, hugging it with arms and wings, which melt and stretch until they encompass the entire figure. Then, abruptly, both Eeee and cylinder vanish from sight, leaving no trace.

Still in the same location, Rory turns to face a surface deliberately closer to where he's standing and dripping now, and repeats his gesture, this time toward a decoy point. "Mister Shadowpage, do your thing! Buzughawuz!" At that, the book flutters its covers like a pair of wings, bounces along Rory's arm, and heads off to the decoy point.

The book flops open onto a table, and fades slowly into nothingness. Rory can tell that it's there, but mostly because he knows what he's looking for. It's a faint shadow of a cylinder, as if cast in bad light by a translucent object.

The unicorn takes a deep breath. Now that the spells are cast, there's nothing further he can do for them – except to interfere and make things worse or disqualify himself. He looks for somewhere suitably out of the way to sit down and take a much-needed breather … preferably close to some place he can wring out his sleeves without creating even more of a mess.

Before he has time to select a bench and settle himself, the young unicorn hears a cough from the entranceway, and turns to see five figures standing there. "Young man," one middle-aged Khatta asks, looking askance at him. "Are you all right?"

The unicorn's ears blanch. "Uhm … " He pants a bit. "I … got wet," he says. He sloshes over toward one of the benches toward the edge of the room, focusing intently on the bench, and not wanting to meet the gaze of anyone – be it mage or spell-critter.

Compared to the adventure of getting the spells to the location, the actual test of their efficacy is anticlimactic. The five people spend several minutes going over the room, but only one of them even seems to notice his "decoy" spell, and no one even looks twice at the actual concealed canister. After a bit, they leave, one of them offering Rory congratulations on his success. "The creative test will begin tomorrow at noon," the man tells him, before leaving.

The unicorn blinks, jaw dropping, but he has the presence of mind to nod and say his thanks, with proper honorifics. You mean there's more? he thinks to himself afterward, not having the wherewithal to actually ask it. However, once everything is finished, he has more important things to do! He heads outside, and finds a spot to begin setting up a cantrip. No time to waste! he tells himself, as he starts working on a shadow play on a nearby wall.

The unicorn goes through an accelerated casting of a Shadow Play – one of his favorite little spells, since it figures so prominently in his play – and then he works with some of the light patterns cast by reflecting water ripples, and makes shadows suggesting waves of water. He makes a little shadow boat … and he summons back the flying book and the cloak bat (at least in shadow figure form, that is), and sticks them in the boat. The boat goes across the bobbing waves, as a sea-snake figure (to Rory's mind looking a great deal like the water mage he just met) comes up, smiling broadly as it carries a little hooded figure with X-ed out eyes, and puts it on the boat. The figures paddle furiously to take the figure back to shore, then start pumping on the figure's chest. One of them starts hopping up and down, until a spray of shadow-water shoots out of the figure's mouth, spurting into the air, and it lets out a spelled out word balloon of "Wheeze!"

From an unseen corner of the room, the shadow of a unicorn approaches Rory, applauding the show noiselessly. "I knew you would do it."

At last, the three happily smiling figures get up (arms spread out for no particular reason, in stick-figure fashion – and don't ask how the book is managing to smile), joined by the sea-serpent. Rory grins, and blushes slightly at Silhouette's comment, though he's not quite done yet with his play. He plucks some little "medals" out of the shadows, and hangs them around the stick figures' heads. "Here you go! For valorous conduct, and general awesomeness above and beyond the call of duty!" he says in an officious manner as he presents the rewards. Then, the little rowboat pops up again, and the figures board it, rowing off (and waving) as they fade off into the shadow-sunset. Little words appear for a moment: "The End."

Rory gauges the time outside. "Is it too late for lunch? I suppose even though he did try to get me with an ambulatory bush, I owe what's-his-name a lunch for not clobbering me. Though I'd far rather treat Juni Starsea… "

"Maybe you could treat them both?" Silhouette suggests. "Though it would have to be dinner, I think, or maybe a midnight snack. It's very late … and the next test part is set for lunch-time tomorrow!"

"Oh yeah," Rory says. "Well, we'd better get ready for it. And I'll try to find out where things are going to be held … so I can figure out how to get there without getting wet or ambushed this time!"

More people turn up for the Creative than had showed up for any of the previous parts of Rory's testing, and the chairs of the hall are nearly filled. As the unicorn prepares to cast this spell, he even glimpses Fyiara's distinctive black-orange-and-white hair in the crowd. When she catches his eye, she smiles and waves cheerily to him, though he's not been able to get a chance to speak with her since her mysterious monologue one … or was it two? … nights ago. Mornings ago? Time feels weirdly distorted to him, between the nightfall spell and the many hours spent in rituals since his testing began.

The unicorn smiles meekly back to Fyiara, then takes a deep breath. It's showtime!