He hadn’t wanted to participate, and was on the verge of making a clean break to the stables, when Strout spotted him and pushed him forward; lollygagging was a waste of the Master’s time.

            Jessum sat across from the Earth Skyll. They studied one another until Elymas motioned for him to roll. He’d closed his eyes and threw the dice. He rolled an eleven. The Earth Skyll rolled an eight. 

            Immediately, all chatter ceased. Elymas told him to roll again.

            Four. He rolled a mere, blessed four. His heart was one beat away from bursting and now Jessum felt himself begin to calm. The first roll had been a fluke, an accident, something everyone would forget in the next hundred years.

            Elymas relaxed as well. He picked up the dice and rolled a two,

            “Ha! Ha, ha!” Nervous laughter from someone but this time it was cut short by a whack. The sound of Strout’s stick sliced through the air. 

            Jessum winced, then looked at Elymas. His expression gave nothing away, but the hate emanating from him made Jessum’s skin crawl.

            “I will roll first,” he said.

            “As you will,” replied Jessum and immediately felt foolish. His permission hadn’t been needed.

            Elymas rolled a sixteen. Jessum prayed for a two and rolled a twenty-eight. The perfect roll lay between them for all to see.

            “Congratulations,” Elymas’ tone was bland. “You’ve achieved what no apprentice ever has — or will again.”