“Ahh, Bennegraf!” a petite young red-haired woman shouted from a set of doors to Layol and Bennegraf’s left.

“Selan! My dear, how have you been?” the old mage asked.

“Quite well,” Selan answered. “And who is this?” she asked, focusing her blue stare on Layol. Layol could sense a flirtatious undertone in the question.

“This,” Bennegraf said patting Layol on the back, “is my young apprentice, Layol. We have come here for his sparring test.”

“Ohh,” she said leering at the boy. “Have you now? What mastery level are you here for?” Selan took the boy by his left wrist and turned his arm over. She studied the parade of tattoos that ended just above Layol’s wrist with the archaic symbol for the fifth level of mastery – one large four-pointed star with a smaller version fixed up and to the right.

“The Sixth, eh?” she asked. “Most impressive for a pupil of your age!”

“Thank you, Madame Kanja,” Layol said in a revered tone.

“You are quite welcome,” Selan replied, her voice seductive. “Well,” she said, snapping back into reality, “allow me to take you the Grand Kanja’s quarters. I’m sure he’s expecting you.”

“We would be honored,” Bennegraf said, bowing before his senior colleague.

“This way, then,” Selan said, turning toward the belly of the mountain.

She led them down to the end of the long corridor. It smelled of decades’ worth of study and hard work. The air was cool and inviting as they made their way deeper into the tower. Selan halted at the last door on the left. It was a small round door constructed of a fine polished wood. Nothing fancy, by any means, but it still managed to exude an air of dignity and wisdom.

“Here we are, gentleman,” she said. “Grand Master Ardymon’s quarters. Best of luck to you in your test, Layol.” With that, Selan swaggered back down the hallway, which was adorned with large tapestries of former Kanji masters on either wall.