ditty at your mother's knee!'
Madar shrugged. 'My Uncle Tomas was a merchant sailor,' he said. 'He picked up a lot of different songs from his travels.'
Akral stood for a few moments, his eyes closed and his right index finger pressed over his lips.
'I am sure I have just the part for you,' he said, his face clearing. 'I would, however, advise you to restrain yourself from such… pungent lyrics in the presence of the Magemasters! I do trust you have some more decorous songs in your repertoire?'
'A few,' Madar conceded.
'That's excellent,' Akral replied. 'Now… Gramm, is it? Ah, yes, Grimm. What do you have for our regalement; perhaps something a little more acceptable to delicate ears?'
Grimm racked his brain for songs. Clearing his throat, he said nervously, 'I would like to sing 'I Had a Little Dog'.'
Madar gave an indulgent laugh. 'That's a little child's song!'
Akral admonished him with a raised finger. 'More suitable than your steamy offering at least, you young lecher.' Turning back to Grimm, he said, 'Please, do continue.'
Grimm had not sung the song for some time and, for a few panicked moments; he could not remember the lyric for the life of him. Then the first words, 'I stopped outside a little shop', popped unbidden into his head, and the rest tumbled out of him like a waterfall. He had no idea of how well he had sung, but Akral applauded him at the end.
'The delivery was excellent, although you didn't really project.' Grimm blinked; he had no idea what Akral meant.
'Project?'
'I mean, you sounded a little nervous and insincere,' Akral explained. 'Still, I am sure we can fix that. You're in.'
Grimm felt a warm flush of pleasure and relief; he was looking forward to being a part of this noble enterprise.
'Your offering, please… Argand?'
Argand performed a series of pratfalls and tumbles that soon had Grimm, Madar and Akral laughing at his apparent haplessness, veering from one near-disaster to another, but never quite losing control.
'That's excellent, Argand,' the older boy declared, when he had recovered from his own fit of laughter. 'I'm sure we can find a place for you, too.'
Akral inserted two fingers in his mouth and emitted a piercing whistle. All the boys in the hall looked up, and Akral waved his hand in Erek's direction.
Erek wandered back over and conversed quietly with his friend for a few moments.
Grimm could not hear what passed between Erek and Akral, but he saw them both nod.
Erek turned to the young Students and said, 'I think we have some parts for you: Madar; you will take the part of a cheeky chimney-sweep called Banger. Grimm; you are a sad, tuneful urchin called Bowrite. Argand; are you happy to become a clumsy but faithful dog called Gagger. I trust you are happy with those roles?'
All three boys nodded eagerly, and Akral produced three thick sheaves of paper from a table at his side, giving one to each of them.
'Learn them as soon as you can, boys,' Erek said. 'First rehearsal is in two weeks.' With that, he and his friend were gone.
Looking at his part, Grimm whispered to Madar, 'I can't read music! How can I do this?'
'Easy,' said Madar. 'I can teach you to read music as easy as you taught me that Sight thing. I've been reading music since I could walk. I'll get you through it.'
The unmelodious Argand riffled through his part with some panic, as if expecting to find music littering the pages like so many flies on a summer window, but he sighed with relief at finding none. 'I have to howl from time to time,' he explained. 'I think I can do that!'
'All you have to do is sing like you normally do,' Madar observed, yelping as his friend punched him in the upper arm.
The boys ran to the hall at every break to practice their parts in the entertainment. The show was scheduled for three months' time and Erek had at last managed to assemble a cast with which he declared himself satisfied.
After a few more weeks, serious rehearsals began. Grimm revelled in the musical magic of the event, having a small but important part in the pageant. Madar had seemed to enjoy rubbing soot onto his Scholasticate-clean face, while Argand had relished rolling on the stage, uttering convincing, piteous dog-howls for his imagined, lost master.
Erek drove his charges with ruthless zeal, but Grimm did not begrudge the effort as he honed his performance to perfection. After many intense practice sessions, the cast was ready. Now, only two weeks remained until the production was revealed to the Scholasticate for the first time. Grimm could hardly wait until Kargan had finished another litany of runes to run to the hall. Madar and Argand were just behind him. Erek stood at the door, his face ashen.
'Erek, what's the matter?' cried Madar, his sweep's costume in his hand.
'There is no more practice, no more show. The entertainment will not take place,' Erek said in a monotone, as if reciting a tedious speech. Grimm could tell the Neophyte was hiding considerable distress.
'I have… squandered too much time on this frivolity, to the detriment of my studies. I apologise for this, but your services will no longer be required.'
Embryo tears glittered at the corners of Erek's eyes; Grimm knew this show had meant so much to him. Nonetheless, he admired the way Erek steeled himself to speak in a measured tone as was expected of a Neophyte, his previous banter and ebullience a distant memory.
'This is my fault,' Erek droned. 'I am to tear up all the backdrops and destroy all the properties myself. Please give me your costumes.'
The boys complied, although Madar's reluctance to give up his beloved sweep's rags was evident.
Erek squeezed his eyes shut, and his voice became harsh. 'No more, do you hear? A Neophyte should not waste his time in idle frivolity. Thank you for your interest but, please, go!' This last was punctuated with a small sob, and Grimm found embarrassment competing for his attention alongside confusion and disappointment.
The Neophyte turned his back on the boys and picked up a hatchet lying on the floor of the Hall. He walked to the centre of the room with a determined stride and began to destroy the beautiful props and backdrops, all of which had been constructed with love and dedication, with a fervour approaching fury.
Grimm, fighting his own tears, turned and ran from the hall, not waiting to see if his friends were behind him.
Chapter 16: 'A Regrettable Incident'
Kargan strode into Grimm's classroom with his usual boisterous manner, flinging his staff into the corner of the room with a loud clatter. 'Staff, stand in the corner,' he muttered, and the brass-shod stick stood at obedient attention, heedless of gravity's insistent demands. The boys were impressed, since they had seen little real magic during their time in the Scholasticate.
The Magemaster turned to face them with an expression of smug satisfaction, either real or feigned; Grimm could not guess which. He slumped into a casual, almost bored, pose; one hand flat on the battered desk at the front of the class, the other resting on his hip, one leg crossed jauntily over the other.
'Gentlemen,' he breathed. 'Now, you belong to me.' The words hung in the air, ominous and threatening, before Kargan's mouth twisted into its familiar, manic grin.
'I have the pleasure to be able to tell you,' he said, 'that I am now the Magemaster of your form. For my sins,
