"It's necessary," said Anton quietly. "Sometime within those ages every sorcerer undergoes what we call a Surge. It's very painful and lasts a number of hours, and is a side-effect of our magic permeating our bodies and souls. If we haven't already chosen our magic, then we won't know what it is when the Surge comes."

For those who could choose. Most could. Natural-born sorcerers were rare, but they were usually too talented to be anything other than their inherent magic. Anton was one of the few who wasn't natural-born and yet hadn't had a choice; a geas like he had with his gist couldn't be broken, even before the Surge.

Anton glanced around the Hotel, and answered at last, "A war that lasted centuries. People sacrificed and suffered for it, and when it was over, politics ruled. Principles were compromised. Evil men went free in exchange for an end to the fighting. Allies were condemned for prejudices. I wanted nothing to do with such politics. So I created this place, a sanctuary unbound by any of our governments, where anyone might be safe for a time."

As long, of course, as they were as honourable as Anton's policies demanded, which was no more or less than to entertain a basic respect of others.