of honour, of course. I'm afraid you'll have to say a few words.'
'Don't worry about me, Dalquist. Even Faffel gave me satisfactory marks in Courtly Presentation and Public Speaking; eventually. At least this time I won't have a bunch of Scholars sticking out tongues and pulling faces when the Magemaster isn't looking.'
'As I remember my Acclamation, there wasn't much Courtly Presentation about it,' Dalquist drawled. 'It can get rather hectic with twenty drunken Mages trying to outdo each other in magic. Questors are meant to be the worst, as you can guess. Readers are worried that someone could memorise their chants, so they tend to hide their best magic. Questors don't have to worry about that: your spell-language is useless to anyone else. The only Questors here today are you, me, Thorn and old Olaf Demonscourge. He's a laugh when he's had a drink or two; eighty years as a Questor has taught him a lot of subtlety and a lot of magic. He may be a little hard on you, what with your being a virgin Mage of the First Rank, without even one ring on your staff.'
Kargan stepped up. 'Excuse me, Questor Dalquist. Afelnor, you low toad! I suppose you won't be bothering much with singing, now that you're a high and mighty Questor? No time for Runes anymore, I'll wager.'
'I still do use runic magic from time to time, Magemaster Kargan,' Grimm protested. 'Sometimes, it is much easier to use a memorised spell than think of a new one. And I still like to sing for the pleasure of it.'
'Glad to hear it… Grimm, isn't it? Even your execrable warble is better than the tuneless twittering I have to put up with in the dross they send in these days. In the new batch they've sent me, they're all absolutely ghastly. However, you are all equally unworthy in my sight; current company moderately excepted, of course.'
'Why thank you, Brother Mage, you're too kind,' Grimm said. 'I will try to prove myself reasonably deserving of your moderate acceptance of my slight worth.'
'You and I will have to do a duet at the banquet, Questor Grimm,' Kargan said, his face brightening. ''The Coronation of Meliar' would be rather fitting, I feel. You take the tenor, and I'll take the baritone.'
'Will we get away with that in company like this, Magemaster Kargan?' Grimm asked in disbelief. The general ban on singing in the Scholasticate still rang in his mind.
'No holds barred at these things, Questor Grimm. They'll all start singing sooner or later, and most of them can't hold a note better than you can hold a breeze in a shrimping-net. We'll just have to show them how it's really done; by now, they almost expect it of me. You'll have to do a party turn of some sort, of course. Come on, it won't be so difficult when you've had a few glasses of wine.'
'But I've never taken strong drink before,' Grimm said, worried. 'What if I disgrace myself?'
'Then you won't be the first. Gobol there keels over at the merest whiff of alcohol. In any case, if you feel your head start to spin, cast some un-Runish Questor perversion of a cantrip of Stability on yourself, followed by a charm of Clarity.'
'Why not a single chant of Equilibrium, or at least as near as I can get to it?' Grimm asked.
'That's not the easiest chant when you're sober, let alone when you've had a few,' said Kargan, snorting. 'One misplaced syllable and you'll be throwing up for days. Safer my way, believe me. Actually, even better, cast the spells on your staff. Then you can just clutch it tight when you feel like you're slipping away. I spent a month casting them into my staff so that they'd always be there when I needed them. I'll tell you what; I'll do it for you. It should last you for tonight. With your permission?'
Grimm felt horrified at this use of this mighty wizard's weapon and symbol of power to stave off drunkenness, but he acquiesced as Kargan threw back his long sleeves and began to chant. The chant took several minutes, and Grimm realized with a cold shock that he, as a Mage Questor, could probably have performed the spell in a matter of a few heartbeats. 'There, that should last you a few hours,' Kargan said. 'I'll see you later.'
Up stepped old Olaf Demonscourge. 'So, you are the new Questor. Congratulations, young Afelnor.' The old man held Grimm at arms' length, inspecting him as if he were suspect livestock. 'It is always good to have new blood, so that our line continues, even if you are a bit of a skinny devil. I will see you at the banquet later; make sure you feed yourself up, get some flesh onto those bones of yours. Oh, by the way, if you become intoxicated, have a word with me. I have a few spells that may help in that regard.'
'Thank you, Questor Olaf, I appreciate your kind offer,' Grimm said, deeming it politic not to spurn the old man's offer.
Grimm's next visitor, hot on the heels of Olaf, was Magemaster Crohn. 'Congratulations, Brother Mage. You have made the aches and pains I have had since your breakout all worthwhile, and I am sure that you will acquit yourself well. May I inquire after the Demonscourge's advice to you?'
'Oh, he was just offering to help me if I get drunk,' Grimm replied, ruefully.
'If you can remember your rune magic, you can do that for yourself, Questor Grimm. Just cast a spell of-'
'I know this, Magemaster Crohn. Magemaster Kargan was telling me about it. My staff will look after me. Is this really what being a mage is all about? Getting drunk and then passing it off so that we can drink even more?'
'Not all Acclamations are quite this frenetic, Questor Grimm. It is rare that we have cause to greet the arrival of a new Questor. The last such celebration was for your friend Dalquist, and that was nearly ten years ago. It makes a change to doff the stern, magely visage occasionally. As you can see, some of us do it with abandon.
'All men are boys at heart, Questor Grimm. Many of those here have little longer to live, not excluding myself, so please forgive us these petty indulgences. You are allowed to have fun sometimes, you know. I told you that your Ordeal was over, and so it is. This will go some way to assuaging those lingering scars, so I expect you to express yourself freely for once. The banqueting gallery is well protected by magic, so we do not expect any major damage… just take care that whatever you say to another does not come back to haunt you when sanity returns to you tomorrow morning. A little jesting with even the most senior mage is acceptable, but outright insults or challenges will not be forgotten. Remember; in with the wine, out with the wit.'
'Don't worry, Magemaster Crohn, I will be prudent.' In fact, Grimm did not intend to drink more than the minimum amount required to satisfy protocol.
The hubbub of conversation from the gathered mages softened as Thorn raised a hand and called for silence.
'Brother Mages, if I may have your attention, we shall now prepare to the gallery hall to celebrate our new brother's Acclamation.'
As Grimm ascended the staircase to the upper floor, the acerbic Magemaster Faffel clutched Grimm's shoulder. 'Be careful what you drink, Afelnor. You are not used to it, and it may ill affect you. Your deportment is not ideal at the best of times.'
Grimm bit back an acid comment. Since his triumph at the Breaking Stone, the only talk had seemed to be concerned with the excess consumption of alcohol! He managed a civil reply.
The table was large and circular, and it easily seated the assembled group. Seating was largely egalitarian and by personal choice, except that Thorn was seated on an ornate throne. The Prelate instructed Grimm to sit on his right and Crohn, the tutor of the new Questor, on his left. Dalquist sat to the left of Grimm, and Kargan to the left of Dalquist.
When all were seated, servants placed goblets in front of each mage. Thorn stood and banged his staff on the floor.
'A toast to the new mage: Grimm Afelnor!'
'Grimm Afelnor,' chorused the other mages, and all drank deeply. Grimm initially sipped at his wine with caution, but he found the taste pleasant. He drank a little more: a warmness grew within him, but he quickly assayed his senses and found them still his own.
So much for the terrible demon lurking within drink! Grimm thought, and he drained his goblet with some pleasure. It was instantly refilled.
Dalquist nudged Grimm. 'You must make a speech, Grimm. Keep it short.'
With only a trace of nervousness, Grimm stood and addressed the conclave. 'Brother Mages, I thank you all for attending my Acclamation.' His mouth was dry, so he took another healthy swig of wine.
'I am heartily thankful for the opportunities I have been given, and the c-confidence placed in me by our G- guild. I look forward to a long and profitable service in the ways of our… our Craft and our Guild. I would like to
