Forty students sat on the Silverspire bench, and every one of them wore grey.
Calen counted them from the wall. He had not meant to. It was the first thing his eyes did when he came through the Arena gate, the same as the gate count at the Keep.
By the time he noticed, he had reached forty and started again.
Nell had asked the question that morning, at the lodging gate, before the bread.
“Forty, Sir?”
“Forty,” said Calen. “Ask the rest of it.”
“What if they all cast at once?”
“Then you do not cast back.”
