"Hey, neat. You got enough money?" "Just." "Great. I think I've got enough—let me check." Nita went back into the house, noticing as she passed through the living room that Dairine was already slipping a diskette into the Apple's built-in disk drive, while her oblivious mother and father were still sitting on the floor pointing at different pages in three different manuals, and arguing cheerfully. Queep! the computer said from the living room, as Nita got into her room and upended the money jar on the dresser. There was no pause in the arguing. Sometimes I think they like it, Nita thought, counting the bills. She had enough for the planetarium, and maybe a couple of hot dogs afterward. Nita stuffed the money in her pocket and pushed the jar to the back of the dresser.

—And her eye fell on the record album again. She tipped it up by one corner to look at her wizard's manual, still open to the Oath. She pulled the book out, idly touching the open pages as she held it. In Life's name, and for Life's sake, began the small block of type on the right-hand page, / say that I will use this art only in service ofthat Life. . . Dairine was in here yesterday, Nita thought, skimming down over the words of the Oath. . . . And she was reading this. For a moment Nita was furious at the idea of her sister rummaging around in her things; but the anger didn't last. Maybe, she thought, this isn't so bad after all. She's been pestering me with questions about wizardry ever since she found out there really is such a thing. She thinks it's all excitement. But the Oath is heavy stuff. Maybe it threw a little scare into her with all the stuff about "time's end" and doing what you have to, no matter what. Be a good thing if it did make her back off a little. She's too young for this. . . .



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