I thought I might take a teeny break from VO and write this one-shot story. It is a snap-shop of Numair's old university life, when he was otherwise known as Arram.

I hope you will enjoy it, and I would be very grateful of reviews.

A day not in particular

By ElspethElf

Towards one corner in the library of the Royal University of Carthak, sat a young man, face hidden behind a book whose very thickness would daunt even the most knowledgeable of scholars.

He sat with shoulders that hunched slightly, one foot tapping absentmindedly on the polished cedar floor. There was an air of trepidation about the young man, an aura that warned others not to disturb, or to approach uninvited.

This particular aura was, however, blindly ignored by two other young men, appearing from a nearby bookshelf, approaching with the skilful stealth of one who is up to no good.

The two men, both around eighteen of age crept softly behind the reader, and after a moment of hushed silence, a pale green light began to form within the palm of the nearest approaching man.

With a quick flick of a wrist, the tiny sparkling ball of fire shot from his hand and towards the back of the unsuspected reader. It shot forward…

And crashed on to a faint protection shield that was edged with black fire.

There was a silence, and then, 'Tristan, Ozorne. I believe this hilarious joke of yours is getting a tad on the old side.' He spoke calmly, almost lazily and did not even bother to turn around.

The man named Tristan let out a disappointed sigh and slid in to the vacant chair. Ozorne followed suit.

'Arram,' Tristan said almost resentfully, 'you have the fastest reflex and deftness I have ever seen.'

'I know,' came the smug reply.

'Then why in Mithros' name do you refuse to base your studies on battle craft? You know you would excel in that field!'

Arram snapped his book shut with delicacy, which was quite an achievement given the sheer size of it.

'I believe we have had this conversation before.' He looked up towards Ozorne. 'Have we had this conversation before?'

Ozorne, the next-to-be Emperor of Carthak grinned wickedly at his friend and nodded.

'He is right you know. Every time we try to catch you out, you always manage to outmanoeuvre us. If I was not your friend, I would say you are wasting your time researching at' – he grabbed the book laid on the table –'relations between the human and animal mind.'

'Go rendezvous with your Varice if you want to study animal behaviour,' Tristan suggested with a pointedly raised eyebrow.

At this, a frown – a touch too close to being called a scowl – appeared on Arram's dark face. 'How is she, then?' he asked stiffly, 'is she still not speaking to me?'

Ozorne let out an exasperated sigh. 'You said some pretty unnecessary things to her, Arram. Don't expect her to seek delight in your company in a hurry.'

Arram promptly turned away from his friend and began drumming his fingers on the table. 'She has to know what I think,' he said softly, 'she's got so much potential within her. I wish she could just see – '

'Perhaps that is how others see of you,' Tristan interrupted. He spoke gently, looking towards Arram with the genuine concern of a close friend. Reaching out, he gripped Arram's shoulder.

'Don't reproach her too much. The potential you see in her wasted is the same as others see wasted in you. That's why Master Haden was so angry with you today,' his voice then became dry, 'its not like he particularly enjoys harassing you and inviting to be attacked.'

At this Ozorne let out a shout of laughter but Arram's scowl just deepened. 'I didn't attack him,' he muttered agitatedly, 'I merely lost my temper.'

'And the world a drastic place for it.'

Moodily, Arram grabbed the thick volume again and began thumping through the pages.

'I need to find a way of proving this!' he said with a touch of desperation, 'its bad enough half the scholars here think I'm touched in the head, let alone all the Masters snooping at me. I know something else exists parallel to the Gift, a power on a deeper level perhaps. Something more subtle, cloaked behind flashy magic such as the Gift. I've got all the signs, people with unexplained bond to certain animals; the court performers, who are Giftless, yet able to summon animals without verbal signal. Those abilities are not a stroke of luck, but a talent. A magical talent.'

'Hag's bones, Arram.' Tristan looked taken aback. 'You should be teaching Concepts of Magic, not Master Haden. I believe I would actually offer my attention in class, then.'

Ozorne peered at his tall friend closely. He saw dark rings under tired eyes, and a face that was too grim and thin.

'Come take a break with us,' he urged, jerking his head towards the door. 'Some of the dance scholars are rehearsing for the Summer Banquet in the practise room. We could go and…' – he turned to Tristan where the two exchanged a meaningful, almost arrogant smirk.

'Go on,' Tristan insisted, 'it'll do you good. You might even be able to find darling Varice and make it up to her. Go summon up a hundred red roses if you are feeling restless. She'll like that at least.'

For a moment it looked like the two friends had succeeded in their quest for persuasion. Arram made to close the book, paused, and then let the cover fall back with a thump on the table.

'No. You two go. I want to read a little longer.'

Both Tristan and Ozorne frowned.

'You know,' Ozorne began slyly, 'I could alter that little friendly invitation to an Imperial order from the Emperor soon-to-be.'

This brought a faint tug of smile on to Arram's face. 'I'm afraid your father is too healthy to let that happen just yet.'

'Well,' Ozorne answered with a exaggerated sniff, 'don't say I didn't try. If you see my father, be sure to tell him I do care for the welfares of my fellow subjects.'

There was a scrabble of chairs as Tristan and Ozorne got up.

'Guess I will see you at supper,' Tristan said and the two walked quietly across the library.

Arram stared after them for a while, momentarily lost in thoughts. Then, visibly gathering his energy, he turned towards the book and buried his nose deep into it once more.

'Relations between the human and animal mind'

Be it a simple aptitude or a latent power, he was going to unravel the veil that blinded others, even his closest friends.

There was a flurry of pages, and then a low murmur.

'And then we shall see.'