Students streamed in, early Spring air following them in and blowing Charity's hair into scattered streamers, but completely failing to make the slightest impact upon Effluvia's immaculately pinned hair, done up with a blue silk flower to match her skirt. She nodded politely as she passed him, then smiled her greeting to Zenith, who followed up the aisle after her.

  Heavy farmgirl's boots trod upon Dalliance's leg, scraping down from knee to heel. The answer sheet fell free, and he hastily cast [Prediction] even as he clapped a foot down atop it, even as she spun to apologize and bent down and actually brushed mud and grass fragments off his leg and ankle. He barely registered her presence.

  This was the end.

  He would finish the test, stand up, and the paper would be visible to anyone in the aisle. Mister Best, having just completed scribing 'third quartile exam' up on the board, wouldn't miss him raising his shoe, for any reason.

  Which, didn't really invalidate the power and the ability to cheat, but certainly meant he couldn't leave the class afterward.

  He'd be disqualified. This was the end.

  Or.

  He'd take the test. And score perfectly. And an answer sheet would be found . . . no. He couldn't afford perfection.

  Couldn't he?

  The paper would be found. There wasn't much for that. No matter which future Dalliance examined, all maneuvering to raise the sheet was visible to a student, Missus Best, or the schoolmaster himself, though often not all at once. Kicking it away from himself would work, in a few directions—but. Where? And when it was found, it all came down to the fact that it was in Earnest's handwriting.

  What to do.

  When the answer sheet hit the floor, Mister Best sighed, long and loud, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Earnest, Earnest," he said, his voice weary. "That’s not funny."

  But Earnest didn’t laugh, looking down at the rolled up bit of paper by his shoe.

  Dalliance's foot was tense, still against the floor after the most carefully timed kick of his life.

  Earnest closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself visibly.

  "No," Earnest agreed. "It isn't funny. I'm sorry, Mister Best. You deserved . . . " His voice was shaking; he was stuttering. " . . . t-t-to think better of me than that. And I have . . . I-I g-guess I let everyone down, didn't I?" He swallowed. "So, I guess . . . d-do what you have to."

  Dalliance was frozen. Earnest had just pulled all of that right out of his ass. "Earnest . . . ." he began to say.

  "Shut up, Dalliance!" Earnest yelled, right in his face. "You think you’re so smart! Clever and funny and good at lying and stuff!"

  Dalliance blinked, nonplussed.

  "Do you ever think that not all of us wasted all our points on Wit? I had dreams! I was going to be a ladies' man! I had to have the Charm!" Effluvia’s face turned sour. Dalliance was pretty sure his friend was half-kidding.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  "So what if I’m not as smart as you? I had to keep up somehow! I didn’t get to start early like Sterling! I don't have a class that they're going to take me for anyway, like Circe! I had two options, unless I let you beat me, and then I had one. And I don’t like having only one option! I want choices too!”

  He paused dramatically. “Had choices. But I can’t be a [Philosopher] now. No one will ever pay an uneducated philosopher. And so, I’ll be a [Seer]. And if our friendship meant anything to you, you’re never going to make fun of me for this."

  Dalliance felt tears in the corner of his eyes. What the actual fuck, Earnest?

  "Earnest," Mister Best said gravely. "You are no longer under consideration for the scholarship program. However, should you ever deign to join a theater troupe, do put me down as a reference."

  Mister Best helped Earnest to his feed, shaking his head. "You didn't have any interest in being a [Philosopher] anyway, boy. When an option is closed to you from the inside, don't mourn it. Having direction is something a great deal of people would give a great deal for."

  He waved Earnest towards the door. The class stared uncertainly.

  "Unless there was anything else," he said, "the third-quarter exam may resume."

  "So," said Earnest easily, some hours later, "I figure when you're a fancy wizard, that’s worth at least two rods of Fireball."

  "I'm not going to be an [Enchanter]," Dalliance said. "But I am sorry. I didn't see any way out that we wouldn't both . . . ."

  "Hush. Don't tell me things I'll be tempted to doubt later. Just set me up on a date with your lady [Enchanter] friends.”

  “You absolute scoundrel," Dalliance said, shaking his head in admiration.

  "I saw you crying," Earnest sniggered. “Poor, poor Earnest!"

  Earnest grinned widely, though his heart clearly wasn't in it.

  The two were sitting on the back porch of the schoolhouse after hours, as they’d taken to doing. He broke out his pipe, stuffing it full of leaf and applying a flame from a paper matchbox crumpled from having been sat on.

  "I’m gonna miss this," he said.

  "Is it really about your grandfather?" Dalliance asked.

  "Yeah, he used to smoke," Earnest said. "I had some memories there. But it was also . . . I had a picture of myself. I was going to be on a porch with that pipe between my lips. I was gonna nod when the young uns said something, tell them if it was good or bad. Now I got to be respectable. By the time I’m his age, I’ll have coiffed hair and a salt-and-pepper beard in capital style. I'll have silk robes down to my ankles. I'll move ponderously, because I’m fat, because I eat the rich food in the capital. Because I’m corrupt and scheming, because I live in the capital."

  "That’s not fair," Dalliance interjected.

  "I’m just getting started," complained Earnest. "I’ll probably be happy. But I wonder what it would’ve been like to go into a room full of students, dissect the thoughts of our forebears. Tell people lies that are good for them, for a living."

  "Lies that are good for them?" asked Dalliance.

  "Yeah. Mercy, Propriety, things of that nature. Instead, I’ll have to tell them the will of the gods. And the gods are dead, except they’re not all dead, are they? So I’ll tell them what Firth wants from us: to leave him alone. I’ll tell them what the Crone wants from us: to do things right the first time. And they won’t like me. Not like if I told them lies."

  His eyes looked haunted, and brittle. He leaned forward. "That’s what the choice was between this whole time, you know? Whether I got to spin my truths or not. I dealt for myself too, you know.”

  There were tears in his eyes now. He stood up and stumped away, his pipe left smoking on the step where he’d been sitting.

  Dalliance watched the smoke for a long time.