[color=da680f][b]Magus Xavier[/b][/color]

Xavier smiled at the exchange between Kho and Teken, but said to them as it resolved, "[color=da680f]We'll find you some fish if that's what [i]you[/i] want, Khotanebre. Keep in mind which among the two of you is the master.[/color]" A thought appeared to cross his mind, and he snapped his fingers, as though just remembering something. "[color=da680f]Ah, of course.[/color]" He said, seemingly to himself.

The temperature in their immediate area seemed to drop suddenly, even colder than the cool desert morning, and Kho could see his breath in front of his face for just an instant. Just as quickly, the chill was replaced by a blast of hot air as something seemed to spontaneously combust on Xavier's shoulder. A whiff of sulfur accompanied the conflagration, but the flames and smoke then began to twist and coalesce into a distinct form. After a moment of watching the fire weave itself although it were reeds being made into a basket, it became clear that what had manifested was a reptilian creature made of living smoke and flame. Its eyes burned like magma, and its claws and spines glimmered like iridescent coal. It crawled about so its head rested on one side of Xavier's broad shoulders, and its tail wrapped about the other.

"[color=da680f]Breakfast?[/color]" Xavier asked the fire lizard.

"[color=842c10]Dates.[/color]" The creature croaked without a moment's hesitation. It licked its eye in a gesture reminiscent of a mundane lizard, but its tongue was smooth black anthracite, and sent cinders flying as it struck its own burning eye.

Looking back to Kho, Xavier said, "[color=da680f]Drygnir and I have worked together for many years. It took time and effort, but we have an understanding of when to live as equals, and when to live as master and Tutelary.[/color]" He tilted his head to show that he did not mean to lecture Kho. "[color=da680f]Food for thought.[/color]"

They walked further along the boulevard, passing by several market stands that seemed perfectly decent to Kho, but Xavier didn't spare them a passing glance. Evidently, he had somewhere specific in mind for them to eat. Kho was no stranger to Photep's wealthiest and most opulent districts, but the area immediately surrounding the Heka seemed a world apart for reasons he could not quite place his finger on. It was if everything and everyone moved in flawless synchronicity. Each person they passed by had a place to be, or something to do, and knew exactly when they had to be there or do it. Even the birds and the falling leaves from trees seemed in step with some kind of invisible rhythm. It reminded him of the work of a master painter, the mathematical perfection of his composition worked into every brushstroke. As he watched the people of the Dijat go about their daily business, he felt his eyes drawn to a singular edifice, its size and grandeur eclipsed only by the sun itself: the Silver Tower. This, too, felt is if it were by design; that one could marvel in the beauty of Photep's heart, and then behold the signature of the artist who breathed this wonder into the world.

Xavier spoke up again, breaking Kho from his thoughts, "[color=da680f]It is time that I explain [i]our[/i] relationship as well, Khotanebre. A Magus and Novitiate have as important a relationship as formally exists in the written structure of the Heka. You were not chosen by committee, or by the Magister of the Cult, and then assigned to me. [i]I chose you[/i]. You are a Sorcerer today because I appraised you, reviewed your work and your skills, and determined that you have the makings of one. I have taken on the responsibility of guiding you into becoming the Sorcerer the gods have decided that you shall be. Whatever this entails, I will commit all of myself to this endeavor.[/color]" He looked down at Kho, his size and his fiery gaze once again making him seem as much a creature of the Aether as the Tutelary on his shoulder. "[color=da680f]You must decide who you shall become. I cannot choose this for you. Whatever your choice, I will abide it and help you as best I can, but this is your journey, Khotanebre. Only you know where it leads.[/color]"

[hr]

[color=DECAB0][b]Magus Dagon[/b][/color]

The Magus shut his book, setting his quill just beside it, and stood to prepare the drinks that his Novitates requested. While in this chamber he did not seem as old as he did standing in the Dijat, the grunt of effort that escaped him as he rose to his feet was a brief reminder of the man's age. He stepped over to a counter against the same wall as the door, and listened thoughtfully to Khaemtir's deluge of excited questions as he puttered about with cups and hot water.

Dagon answered these questions as he prepared the drinks, evidently making a cup of tea for himself as well. "[color=DECAB0]You are Sorcerers of the Cult of the Crow; this pyramid is as much your home as it is mine, and you are free to go wherever you like. Within reason, of course.[/color]" He added, chuckling. "[color=DECAB0]I don't think Magister Amon would appreciate Novitates wandering into his chambers unannounced. If there is a public area that is prohibited- some sensitive project or another- I'm sure such restrictions would be made obvious to you.[/color]"

He gave another dry laugh before answering the question about studying the Hall of Prophecy. "[color=DECAB0]The answer to your question goes somewhat beyond your concerns at this stage of your studies, but I will try to explain. The Crimson King, our eternal and glorious master, pays special consideration to the Heka. He is the father of Sorcery, and we Sorcerers are like his children. Like any noble family, the Sorcerers of the Heka vie for their father's favor and attention. The Cult of the Crow has enjoyed the Crimson King's particular favor for most of the history of Photep, and after spending many years basking in his adoration, we have become somewhat arrogant. Vain, even.[/color]" Dagon set the cups down on a tray, and stepped over to peruse a nearby bookshelf as he continued to explain. "[color=DECAB0]Make no mistake, the works commemorated in the Hall of Prophecy are exceptional in their foresight and clarity, and studying them is a fascinating exercise. Even so, the Hall is a monument to vanity. The Cult of the Crow does not wish anyone within our Cult or without to forget how greatly the Crimson King favors us and our work, and so we hoist banners and trophies to congratulate ourselves on our own achievements.[/color]" He stepped back toward the table, tray loaded with cups and books in hand. "[color=DECAB0][i]That[/i] is why I do not consider ruminating over the Hall of Prophecy to be vital to your studies.[/color]"

Settling down at the table, Dagon distributed the drinks that were requested, and set one of the books in front of each of the Novitates. They looked quite similar to the one he had just been writing in: small enough to hold easily on one hand, dark vellum covers, and about two-hundred pages thick. These however looked brand new, the cover and pages pristine, and the beeswax bindings still fresh and fragrant. Dagon pushed his own book aside and took a sip of his tea, before setting that aside as well to set his hands on on the table, crossing his fingers and looking at the Novitates seriously with his gaze of azure fire.

"[color=DECAB0]Now, let's not waste any more time. You sit here today, in one of Photep's holy pyramids, because the Aether has gifted you the ability to drink from its power. An insignificant amount in sight of the Aether itself, but significant enough to we mortals. Whether this was a quirk of fate, or the will of some God or another, or purely random chance is no concern to me. I have taken up the duty of ensuring that this power does not go to waste, or- worse yet- turn against the interests of Photep and her people. Your rank of Novitiate is an acknowledgement of the power you command, the potential that you hold, but it carries another meaning as well. It means that we of the Heka do not yet trust you to wield this power under your own auspices. Do not take this as an insult, as it the Heka intends it as a rational precaution. Magic is a power unlike any other in this world, and we cannot bestow its deepest secrets upon you until we can trust that you will not misuse them. This trust can be earned, but the process of earning it is not easy. If at any time you feel that you cannot bear the responsibility, or you are not up to the task, you are free to hang up your white cloak and carry on your life in some other profession. There is no shame in this; Photep does not prosper by the efforts of Sorcerers alone. However, once you have passed the trials and spoken the oaths, there can be no turning back.[/color]"