Free Birthright-The Technomage Archive by B.J. Keeton Page B

looked uncomfortable to Ceril. Obviously, she wasn’t used to being unable to offer a correct answer. Ceril had no idea which of the stories was true, either. He only knew that the contradictory tales existed and that they all had to be at least partially true. He wouldn’t be sitting here if they weren’t.
    Around the room, the other students were just as confused as Saryn. How could any of them know the truth? In most places on Erlon, records went back a century or two at most. And that was well after the last war had ended.
    Roman walked to the front of the room and over to the window. He put both of his palms on the glass. His head dropped, and to Ceril, he looked like he was praying. When Roman spoke, his words were quick, terse, and far sterner than he had sounded with the students yet. “No one can tell me which legends about technomages are true? Really? You are the best and brightest students on Erlon , and not one of you can tell me which of these stories is correct? No one will even guess?”
    A boy two chairs down from Ceril raised his hand.
    Without turning around, Roman said, “Yes, Barty?”
    The boy said something that Ceril couldn’t hear.
    “ Louder, son,” Roman said.
    A second try: “Not to be rude, sir, but how could we know? I mean, back in Ferran, we don’t even know why it’s called Ferran. It just is. Maybe they know that kind of thing in Ternia or Yagh, but Professor Kline said last year that some stories are just lost and gone.”
    “ And what does that have to do what Saryn and Ceril said?”
    Barty hesitated. “I guess that we can’t know, sir. I thought that’s why we’re here. To learn that kind of stuff.”
    Roman turned from the window and faced the class. He was frowning. “I suppose you're right. Who here agrees with Barty?”
    A couple of hands went up slowly—not above the students’ shoulders, though, in case they might need to hide their responses quickly.
    “ I see,” Roman said. “Well, let me just tell you. Barty's right. There really is no way you could know which story is correct.”
    Barty beamed in his chair and sat a little straighter. Ceril felt good for the kid. He seemed like the kind of boy who didn’t get that kind of praise terribly often.
    “ But so is Saryn,” the teacher continued. “And so are Ceril and his grandfather. All the stories are true.”
    Saryn couldn't take it anymore. Her hand shot up, but once again, she started talking before she was called on. “But how is that possible, sir? How? They contradict each other! They can’t be true if they all tell a different story.”
    “ They're all true,” Roman explained, “because they all have that one seed in them that ties them to the past. Nothing is completely true. They all have bits of fantasy and myth in them. Ten thousand years will do that to just about anything, right? But Barty is right. You are in this classroom because you need to know the full truth. And before your time aboard this ship is finished, you’re going to know as much of it as anyone else in the world; more than most people, actually. How does that sound?”
    The class was silent again, and Roman just shook his head. “You guys are going to have to lighten up and talk to me eventually, or this is going to be a very long year.”

    ***

    Several hours later, the students were finally dismissed. They began to stand up and mill about aimlessly as students tend to do, and Roman said, “On each of your terminals is a room assignment.” The Recruits went back to their desks. “You will each have your own, private quarters. Make yourself comfortable. If you’re one of those lucky few who become Apprenticed, this room will be your home for the next six years.”
    The class began to murmur, but Roman continued speaking. “If you are from Ennd’s or Cernt Academies, your belongings have already been transferred to your new rooms. If you are from Ferahgo Academy, your things should arrive tomorrow morning. No matter