ale and will come back in an hour or so. Let me look at you-why, you're taller than I am now!'
Grimm, embarrassed, allowed himself to be held at arms' length and inspected by his grandmother whilst she assessed him. After a little chit-chat about his former hometown, which Grimm absorbed with rapt attention, Drima looked long and hard at her grandson.
'You haven't once enquired about your grandfather, Grimm,' she said, and Grimm started. 'You know he's not really ill, don't you?'
Grimm, unsure how to respond, gave only an uncomfortable shrug.
'Men!' Drima sighed. 'They think their wives are blind or stupid, and they think they can hide their feelings so well.'
Grimm said nothing.
'I am perfectly aware that Loras yearned to come here,' she said, 'but I always knew he would have to come up with some excuse or other. He thinks I know nothing of his life before I met him, but he's a fool, for all his intelligence, like all men; a fool I love with all my heart.
'Once, I saw Loras fondling the ring he tried to keep hidden, and I knew its significance; what it means to him. He talks in his sleep, too, may the Names bless him. For most of our life together, I've kept up the patient pretence of knowing nothing. I've always known it would break his heart if he ever thought I knew of his disgrace: the mighty Guild Mage who fell from grace; the powerful Questor; the Oathbreaker.
'I know very little about the details, and I don't want to know.
'All I do know is that the Loras Afelnor I married, and whom I have loved for so many years, would never break a trust or a solemn vow unless he felt he had no choice.'
Drima drew the stunned, wordless Grimm close and hugged him again.
'Whatever he may have done, I know he would only ever have acted for the best reasons,' she said, holding Grimm in a firm, fierce embrace. 'I want you to know that, too. If only you knew just how proud he is that you are a Student in his own Guild House! Sometimes, he almost seems to burst with pride when we tell people about you.
'We are both so proud of you, Grimm, and I know it is hard for you to be kept away from people who love you, but our hearts are with you always.
'The guilt Loras bears is not some trifling twinge that a habitual evil-doer might suffer, but the consuming, passionate pain of a good and honourable man who has been forced into something of which he is ashamed; something he cannot comprehend. Please work hard, and make the name of Afelnor shine again in the Guild. That would make both of us so happy.'
Grimm's eyes filled with tears. He thought of his bear of a grandfather, a man who worked as hard as others half his age, but who was never to busy to listen to a child's questions or to soothe a hurt.
Often, Loras would refuse payment from poor people, or he would charge a price well below the going rate. It was Loras who would send anonymous parcels of food to people who had fallen on hard times; it was always he who was at the forefront of a search for a missing child. Such a man could not have an evil bone in his whole body, no matter the opprobrium placed on his name.
'Gramma,' Grimm said, fighting strong emotions, 'I love you both. I know that Granfer is a good man, and I will work hard to become a good mage. It is hard for me here sometimes, but it will be worth it to make you proud of me.'
'We're always proud of you, Grimm,' Drima said, her voice hesitant and her eyes misty. 'Just do your best; that will always be more than enough for us. You're a good boy, and we love you so much. All I ask is that you work hard, and please don't tell your Granfer that I know some of his secret. It would hurt him so much, and I know you would never want him to be hurt.'
'Don't worry, Gramma,' Grimm assured her, 'I promise I won't say anything. I love Granfer as much as I love you. I wouldn't say anything to hurt him for all the world.'
'In that case, Grimm, I don't think we need to say any more on the subject, do we? Please; do tell me about your friends and your teachers.'
'Oh, Gramma,' giggled Grimm, 'you should know by now that they aren't called teachers, they're called Magemasters.
'I have two good friends that I wrote about in my letters. One day last month, we started a new game here. It's called Scaffle-ball, and everyone's playing it now…'
A whole hour passed whilst Grimm and his doting grandmother exchanged news. When Magemaster Crohn came to tell them that the audience was at an end, Grimm was surprised; it seemed as if only a few scant minutes had passed. The boy hugged his grandmother in a tight embrace and whispered, 'I'll remember, Gramma. You can rely on me. I love you all.'
Drima whispered back, with tears in her eyes, 'We love you, too, Grimm. It may take a long time, but we know you will do your best. If you ever become sad, think of us. You can be sure we'll be thinking of you.'
A heartfelt kiss, and the visit was over. Grimm went to his cell and read his grandparents' letters for a while, drawing sustenance from the pages through his tearful eyes until the Refectory bell tolled its insistent chime. Eating seemed a chore, and he went to bed with a barely-satisfied stomach, but with a full heart.
For the remainder of the winter break, he confined most of his reading to serious subjects. He studied the four main classifications of spells: Perceptive, Manipulative, Transformative and Translocative. The standard work recommended by Crohn was Thrumal and Thring's Principles of Thaumaturgy, and he devoured the dull tome with an intensity and interest he had never known before; he would make the Afelnor name shine again. When the new year began, he would work as he never had before.
Chapter 19: Defiance
Another year passed in almost frenzied activity, and another. Three more boys left and more study subjects were added, such as Basic Herbalism and Patterning. Grimm found himself with little time to think or meditate, and he only managed to keep pace with considerable effort.
The Students' days were now so full of different studies that there was little time for petty animosities, and, since most of the boys were now skilled at one discipline or another, dissatisfaction and envy were dimmed. However, the reverse of this coin was that there was now little time even for friendships. Grimm's study and play sessions with Madar and Argand suffered accordingly, as they argued about which subject to pursue.
These arguments were normally nipped in the bud by the even-handed but ever more muscular Argand before they became too heated.
Grimm began to wonder, however, why the magical studies taught by Crohn and Kargan, which once had been foremost amongst the class's subjects, were now swamped by the more mundane disciplines of Courtly Decorum, Poetry and Languages.
The Students still practiced ever more complex 'spells' under Kargan, and Crohn still gave his monologues on the classifications and variations of magic, but they seemed to spend far longer with Faffel than with the other two Magemasters. Frustration grew as time went on, until one day when Madar nudged Grimm in class before Crohn's arrival.
'Grimm, we're all fed up with this courtly stuff,' the redhead declared. 'Crohn seems to like you a bit better than some of us, so why don't you ask him when we'll start learning some real magic? You're good with words; I bet you could put it better than we could.'
Several other boys concurred, and Grimm felt flattered that they would accept him as their spokesman. Once, he would never have dreamed of speaking up to the Senior Magemaster, but he had grown in confidence since his fight with Shumal Tolarin.
