“None of us are ready for bandits,” huffed Lyra as she jumped to avoid Antello’s swinging leg. “Still, I wish father would let me study with you instead of taking magic lessons. That stuff is so dry and boring.”

“Dry and boring, is it?” shouted Rhodella from the steps. “I thought you weren’t feeling well this morning, Lyra. Your father is going to be mighty displeased.”

Syman’s sword struck Lyra in the ribs when her mother shouted and Lyra stumbled to the ground. The wet dew felt cool against her cheek as she sat up and stared at the imposing figure of her mother with hands on her hips.

“I couldn’t resist, Mother,” pleaded Lyra. “You know how I enjoy practicing with the boys. Why won’t Father let me study under Master Caulder?”

“Your father is the finest mage in Omunga,” scolded Rhodella as she strode over to the errant trio. “People from all over the country send their children to his Academy to learn magic and you are one of the most gifted of all. How can you even think of wasting your efforts with this foolish nonsense? What do you think it does to his reputation to have his own daughter frolicking in the grass with two young boys who shouldn’t even be here? You waste your talents frivolously and you will end up getting hurt with this . . . this disgusting show of brute force.”

“Mother,” appealed Lyra, “Father refuses to teach any interesting magic. I have learned what he is willing to teach, but he refuses to go any further. It is not exciting anymore.”

“You mean he won’t teach you to use magic as a weapon,” scolded Rhodella. “You know your father’s feelings about that, Lyra. We do not need to air this problem in public. Get yourself cleaned up and report to him directly. I am sure that he will have a few choice words for you. And you two . . . Master Caulder is going to hear of this nonsense, I assure you.”

“Mother,” pleaded Lyra, “do not involve Syman and Antello in this. I will take Father’s punishment, whatever it is, but they have no part in it.”