“Supposed?” Master Ferev said. “Definitely not. But your Master lives here.”
Eridan flinched. “You’re taking me to Master Idhron?” He added belatedly, “And he isn’t my Master.”
Ferev continued walking, as if he hadn’t heard him.
Scowling, Eridan reluctantly followed him. “He isn’t my Master,” he repeated. “I haven’t seen him in years.”
“He may not have claimed you yet, but he does have a preliminary claim on you,” Ferev said. “Unless he cancels it, he might as well be your Master.”
Eridan pursed his lips. “Don’t I get a say in this? Maybe I don’t want to be his apprentice.”
Ferev’s head whipped toward him. He stared at Eridan incredulously. “Don’t be ridiculous, Eridan. Castien is one of the best mind adepts of the Order—some say he is already the best, despite his age. Most of the initiates would give their right hand to be his apprentice.”
“Then they’re idiots,” Eridan said with a scoff. “What’s so special about him anyway? People always talk about him like he’s the next Grandmaster, but no one ever says why he’s so special and great besides—well, besides belonging to the Idhron lineage.” The Idhron lineage was one of the oldest in the Order and famous for producing great Masters.
Master Ferev shook his head a little. “You do realize that I can hardly gossip with you about my superior, right?”
Eridan rolled his eyes. “Who would I tell? Master Idhron?”
“Regardless,” Ferev murmured, radiating discomfort.
“Oh, come on. It’s not like he’s the Grandmaster. Isn’t he about the same age as you?”
Ferev gave a tight nod. “We were in the same class as initiates, actually.”
“Really?” Eridan said, looking at him with interest. “Then why are you so scared to talk about him?”
Ferev glared at him. “You’re forgetting yourself, Eridan. And I’m not scared. Has it not occurred to you that I don’t want to gossip about Castien because I know him well enough to know better?”
Eridan considered it. He still couldn’t imagine being intimidated by one of his classmates. “You’re a Master, too,” he said with a frown.
“Master Acolyte,” Ferev corrected him. “It doesn’t matter that we’re the same age. Idhron is still my superior. If you weren’t so laughably naive, you’d know that age isn’t what guarantees you respect in the Order. There are full-rank Masters twice my age that treat Castien as deferentially as any lowly initiate does.”
Eridan’s forehead wrinkled. “But why?” That was what he didn’t understand. How could a man who was barely over thirty command so much respect and fear in the Order?
At first, he thought Ferev wouldn’t answer.
But at last he did, still looking straight ahead. “Castien has always been different from the rest of us. Every single one of us hated him—and wanted to be him, because he was perfect in every class. It didn’t make sense, because he wasn’t even the most naturally gifted telepath in our year: he was just Class 3.”
Eridan’s mouth fell open. “Master Idhron is just Class 3?” Much weaker than him?
Ferev smiled. “He was Class 3 when we were seven years old. He was Class 4 by the time we were eleven. He was Class 5 by the time we were sixteen. Last I heard, he was Class 6.”
Eridan stared at him in puzzlement. “But that’s not—that’s not possible!”
“Apparently, it is. Castien has found a way to increase his telepathic strength—to do what has always been thought to be impossible—and he’s obviously not sharing how he has done it. It’s understandable that most people are wary of him. If he could do that, who knows what he’s really capable of.”
“So that’s why there are all sorts of crazy rumors about him,” Eridan said, frowning. “I thought they were bullshit.”
“Most of them probably are,” Ferev said. “But at this point, no one can know for sure.”
He finally stopped in front of the tall gates of a picturesque mansion.
“Please state your name and your business,” said a pleasant female voice, no doubt an AI.
“Master Acolyte Ferev. I am here to discuss Master Idhron’s claimed initiate.”
“Master Castien is at High Hronthar,” the AI said.
Ferev’s lips thinned. Eridan felt a spike of frustration and reluctance coming off him.
“We should just go back to class, then,” Eridan offered, perking up. He didn’t understand why Master Ferev had been so set on delivering him to Idhron anyway.
Ferev gave him a flat look. “Don’t look so pleased, Eridan. If he isn’t home, it just means we’ll just have to go to High Hronthar. An incident like that should be reported either to your Master—”
“He isn’t my Master.”
“—or to the Chapter.”
Eridan’s mouth fell open. “The Chapter?” he whispered, blinking. “Eh. On the other thought, let’s go look for Master Idhron.”
Ferev snorted, heading back to the t-chamber. “Don’t worry, you will see your Master anyway. He is part of the Chapter, after all.”
Eridan scowled and reluctantly followed his instructor. “Yeah, and that’s so weird. Who becomes part of the Chapter at thirty? It’s ridiculous!”