reason alone.'
Crohn's eyes seemed to burn into Grimm's soul for a few moments, and then he nodded. 'That is as it should be. I cannot sway you from your heart's desire, nor would I wish to. I think you are deluded in this regard, but that is a personal opinion. I know I would do anything to ransom my own family name, had it ever been so tarnished. As long as you do not suborn House personnel to the furtherance of this… this private Quest of yours, I have no objection. Just be careful on whose toes you tread whilst doing so, Grimm Afelnor. If I may be of any assistance to you in your search for truth, without transgressing House protocol, of course, do not hesitate to ask.'
'I will, Magemaster Crohn,' Grimm responded, smiling broadly. 'Thank you for your forbearance, your kind offer and your understanding. Will you promise me that this matter remains confidential between us?'
Crohn nodded. 'I so swear, Questor. I hope one day you will find true peace and inner harmony, one way or the other. What you have said is already forgotten. Even the direct demand of Lord Thorn would not draw it from me.'
As Grimm opened his mouth to thank the Senior Magemaster again, he was interrupted by a cry from Magemaster Kargan: 'Here comes our guest of honour!'
Appearing nervous and sheepish, Numal appeared at the top of the stairs, bedecked in costly robes of green velvet. As he walked into the gallery, Grimm saw that he was accompanied by a dour man attired in a similar manner. There was little humour in the second man's face, and his pallor and bald head made him appear as almost a twin of the new mage. Only the seven gold rings on the man's staff clearly marked him as a separate individual.
Crohn clapped his hands, and the assembled magic-users came to attention.
'Gentlemen, in recognition of forty-three years of diligent study, let us all raise a glass to our new Mage Necromancer, Numal Falwort, and his estimable and indefatigable Adept Tutor, Necromancer Sheban!'
Magemaster Kargan, as thoughtful as ever for the important things in life, handed full glasses to Grimm and Crohn.
The pitiful assembly chorused, 'To Numal and Sheban!'
The revelries lasted into the small hours. All present drank more than their fill, but Grimm found the alcohol had little effect on him. He drank, almost as if possessed, but he felt no need to call on his staff, Redeemer, to clear his head. In the morning, he would leave to root out a dark, Geomantic evil at the heart of High Lodge itself, and he could not help but hope it might lead him a little further down the road to Loras' exoneration
Numal became morose and melancholy as he tossed back glass after glass of alcohol, and at one point he cried out, 'When I was young, I wanted nothing more from my life than to make people laugh, to be happy. That person is dead, dead! You killed me!'
Crohn stepped quickly into the breach, presenting the new mage with another glass of wine. 'Necromancer Numal, you are in the company of brothers here. Be of good cheer! Gentlemen: another toast to the new mage!'
'To the new mage!'
Numal made no further outbursts, but Grimm thought, Poor bastard. That's what the Guild can do to a man. You can see it in Crohn, Thorn, Faffel, and even Kargan. What they did to me with insults and abuse, they did by grinding these men down with years of rules and regulations, stops, checks and bloody protocol. I'm never going to let that happen to me!
Grimm raised his glass again. 'Congratulations to you, Numal. May the Names bless and keep you.'
The new Necromancer appeared recovered after his earlier, emotional eruption, and his eyes almost focused on Grimm's.
'To the… to the Houshe!' he slurred, drinking.
'The House!' echoed Grimm and the other mages, but the Questor's mind was on other things. Tomorrow, he might need to face a monster. Despite the pity he felt for the lonely man, pressed into a calling he had never sought, Grimm made his excuses and left. He had a long day, or days, ahead of him.
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Chapter 6: A Travelling Companion
Grimm awoke early, with only wan, ruddy light creeping through his chamber window. After his customary, careful washing and grooming, he packed a large travelling-bag with the various accoutrements he would require for a stay of a week or so at High Lodge and sauntered down to the Refectory for breakfast. He had been given three days' grace for the journey but, as the son of a blacksmith, he believed in striking while the iron was hot in more than one respect.
Although he knew there would be no staff on duty at this early hour, tables set with various food items and fruit juices were always available at this time, since several dedicated mages preferred to breakfast before the hubbub of a hundred hungry Students shattered the dawn's blessed peace.
On reaching the Refectory, Grimm felt no surprise to see several mages already taking their morning repasts. Five sat alone in silence, their attentions absorbed by scrolls or books, while four others sat in a huddled group, deep in earnest but quiet conversation.
The young Questor, although his appetite this morning was keen, decided to take a frugal meal; an over-full stomach was not conducive to happy riding. A crusty roll, a small pickled fish and a glass of orange juice would have to suffice. As he moved to a table, he noticed a solitary figure hunched over a full plate. Although the mage's head was covered by a hood, Grimm noted his naked staff, bereft of any rings denoting status, marking him as a very recent addition to the senior ranks of the House. This silent figure could only be the new Necromancer, Numal.
'Greetings, Brother Mage.'
Numal's head jerked up, and Grimm looked into a face of misery. The Necromancer's sallow complexion seemed even paler than usual, and the Questor could not help but notice Numal's bloodshot eyes.
'Greetings, Grimm,' was the whispered reply. 'Do you think you could talk a little more quietly?'
Grimm suppressed a smile; Numal's malady was an easy one to cure. In a softer tone, he said, 'Take hold of my Mage Staff, Numal. It has some very useful spells cast upon it. Don't worry, it can't hurt you if you touch it with my permission.'
The fledgling Necromancer reached out a trembling hand and clutched Redeemer. He shuddered as if palsied for a few moments, before falling back into his chair. Grimm was pleased to see that, although Numal's eyes were still red, they seemed more focused and clear.
'Thank you, Grimm,' Numal said. 'I needed that. How did you do it?'
'It's just an application of the Minor Magics, Numal: a spell of Stability to steady your stomach and stop the world spinning around, and a spell of Clarity to clear your head. If you cast them on your staff, using the Third Instance, they'll stay there forever.'
'What do I use for activation energy?' the Necromancer asked.
'They're simple enough spells,' Grimm said. 'Body heat's more than adequate as a source of energy.'
The new mage eyed his neglected breakfast with renewed interest and began to attack it with vigour, while the younger man polished off his own.
'I made a complete fool of myself last night, didn't I, Grimm?' Numal said, looking up from his breakfast. His face was ruddy, embarrassed.
Grimm's shrugged. 'Don't worry about it, my friend. 'When the wine's in, the wit's out', as they say. I fell face-down into my food at my Acclamation feast. As I look back on it now, getting so drunk was unbelievably foolish. If you miscast a runic spell, it doesn't work and your hangover just gets worse. You can't miscast Questor magic; you invent it on the spot, but you can still make mistakes. As a Questor, I could have wrecked the place if I'd cut loose with the wrong spell while drunk. I understand there are quite a few regrettable accidents at Acclamation banquets; it's an opportunity to let your hair down after years of self-denial.'
