'Of course I'd like to, Doorkeeper,' he said. 'When are you thinking of leaving?'
'Would an hour or so from now suit you?' asked the ancient mage.
Grimm gulped. Things seemed to happen so quickly these days; he had not left the Scholasticate for nine years, and he was barely used to being allowed free access to the West Wing and the Great Hall. Now, Doorkeeper was talking about leaving the House. Grimm thought about it, and nearly fainted from an agoraphobic pang that seized his brain in sharp, icy talons. A part of him wanted to scream in refusal, to grasp onto his familiar world and never to let go. Another region of his mind had control of his mouth, however.
'I'd love to, Doorkeeper,' he heard himself say. 'I shall have to ask Magemaster Crohn for permission, of course. Do you know his whereabouts?'
'I observed him making his rounds of the Student accommodation block about five minutes ago. I believe that he should still be there, Questor Grimm.' The old mage's tone was formal and deferent.
Grimm smiled. 'Doorkeeper, you're like family to me. I've known you for over half my life and I think I might have lost my mind a long time ago, without you to bring a little order and stability to my world. I haven't changed overnight just because I carry this stick. Please, Doorkeeper; just call me 'Grimm', and drop the Mage Speech? It makes me uncomfortable.'
'I'm sorry, Qu… Grimm,' the major-domo said, beaming. 'I do have to struggle to see you as that frightened, wet thing I first met all those years ago. You have changed a lot, whether you know it or not. You look… confident, powerful, somehow.'
'I don't feel like that, Doorkeeper,' Grimm declared. 'I'm quaking inside at the thought of even stepping outside the House, and I need the old Doorkeeper I know and love to help me with my fears, just like he used to when I was a frightened Student. I know you think sometimes that you're in some way inferior to some of the other mages, but you have a vital role here. You help poor, insignificant Students cope with a strange new world so they can adjust and grow; a vital responsibility that allows the House to continue. Be that mage for me again, please. You helped me to adjust to this world so well that it scares me to think of anything else. I'm terrified.'
Doorkeeper ran a hand through his luxuriant, white hair and grinned. 'Maybe I can still see a trace of that small, drenched little waif I met in the Great Hall all those years ago; even if you are a real Mage Questor.'
'I'm still me, Doorkeeper.' Grimm felt a hollow void where his stomach had once been. 'There's a big world out there I haven't seen for most of my life, and I'm… I'm scared.'
'Ah, you're not the first youngster to face that problem, you know,' Doorkeeper replied. 'It's funny how most of the Students here would do anything to escape but, once they're free to come and go as they please, they just want to hang on to it. Especially the charity boys like you; at least the rest get out for a short while every year. I can't make you feel any better right now, but I will tell you that when you come back you'll be utterly changed. I'm very happy for you, and I won't feel that you're really one of my flock until I greet you properly as a returning mage.'
'I think that's what I'm looking forward to most, Doorkeeper,' said Grimm. 'At least it'll mean I've really done something for the House, instead of taking from it. I wonder if you could cast a spell of Inner Calm on me. One of the limitations of Questor magic is that I can't act on my own mind, because that's where the magic comes from.'
'Oh, no, no, no, young Grimm!' Doorkeeper cried. 'You've got a really good brain; you don't want to go messing around with it, goodness me, no! If there's one thing I've always missed, it's a first-class mind. If I had a brain like yours, I'd really want to take care of it. A daft old thing like me, I'd probably be no worse off for a little tinkering in the brain-box, but not you. Leave that head alone, I say!'
'You only had to say, 'I don't think that's a good idea,'' Grimm replied with a broad smile, holding his hands out in a placating manner; Doorkeeper's accustomed prattle had soothed his inner anxiety more than a little.
'Oh well, you know me, jabber, jabber, jabber!' Doorkeeper's smile was as broad as ever; somehow, the major-domo found a little comfort in his eccentricity, even if he tried to deny it. 'But if you do get bothered by the big open spaces, just focus on the next tree or fence in front of you and see it as a wall. Then go onto the next one and look for the next marker.
'My brother, Ennis, used to do the same thing when he was running for long distances as a foot messenger for Earl Toomey. He'd say 'I won't give up running until I've reached that tree.' Then he'd focus on the tree after that and do the same again. So he didn't run fifteen miles in one go, but just lots of thirty-yard stretches. It works if you get bothered about how far away you're getting from what you know. Just remember each tree and then, when you're coming back, you'll get a real sense of getting closer by the minute. Before you know it, you'll be back home to a warm welcome.'
'Thank you, Doorkeeper.' Grimm felt as if his heart were almost bursting from gratitude and fellow-feeling. 'I don't know what I'd do without you! That's good advice, and I'll follow it whenever things get too bad. If you'll excuse me, I'll see if I can find Magemaster Crohn.'
Crohn, whose duties seemed endless, was checking the soap and towel allocations in the paying Student block when Grimm found him making check marks on a sheet of paper.
'Good morning, Questor Grimm,' Crohn said, looking up from his work. 'May I help you?'
'Good morning, Magemaster Crohn. Mage Doorkeeper has asked me to accompany him on a journey outside the House. I know I am still, technically, your responsibility, and so I thought it only proper to seek your approval.'
'You are no longer confined to the Scholasticate, and you do not, therefore, need such approval,' the Senior Magemaster replied, his face blank. 'I am sure I explained that to you.'
'You did, Magemaster Crohn, but I thought it a prudent exercise, nonetheless, since my intention is to visit my grandparents. I have received but a single letter from them during my time here. I would guess that my grandfather Loras would come under the strictures concerning 'Association with persons inimical to the aims and precepts of the House.' That is rule of the House, not merely of the Scholasticate.' Grimm's tone was cool and formal, but his troublesome, agoraphobic inner demon wished desperately that the Magemaster might refuse his request. At the same time, Grimm was berating himself for harbouring such a craven attitude. He did yearn to see his family; it was only the prospect of the journey that troubled him so.
Crohn pressed his forehead hard enough to show livid finger marks, outlined in red, when he removed his hand. He took a deep breath and said, 'It is your family, Afelnor. Of course you must go, and with my blessing. That rule was not formulated with this particular circumstance in mind, and it is my privilege as Senior Magemaster to override such a rule. I therefore rescind the rule with regard to your grandparents. Go, and forget the House for a little while. I regret that, as a Questor who has not yet Quested, you will have to return to the House by nightfall. Lord Prelate Thorn would be displeased if you chose never to return, for you still owe a great debt to the House for your education here. Worry not; I will ensure that Lord Thorn knows of my decision.'
Grimm gave a deep, fluent and courteous bow; Magemaster Faffel's lessons in Courtly Graces had not been a complete waste. 'Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Senior Magemaster Crohn. I greatly appreciate your forbearance and your understanding.'
Crohn nodded. 'Now, if you would be so kind as to leave me to these tedious logistics? Between the two of us, this is not my favourite activity, for I have little talent for numbers.'
Grimm almost started at the revelation that the formidable Magemaster had admitted to a weakness, but he managed to maintain a neutral expression, as Crohn returned to his check sheet.
'You did what, Crohn?' the Prelate exploded. 'Loras Afelnor is a traitor to the Guild; you know that!'
'He is also Afelnor's grandfather, Lord Prelate,' Crohn said, a hint of censure in his firm, unwavering voice. 'Having dared to send the boy to this House for education, it seems improbable in the extreme that Loras would try to plant seditious thoughts in the new Questor's head. I have told Afelnor he must return here before nightfall. I trust that you realise it would be highly prejudicial to my authority, were you to rescind my permission. Under such circumstances, I would have little choice but to resign my post.'
Crohn held Thorn's gaze, unblinking; he seemed unshakably sincere in his words. Thorn felt deep misgivings,
