Numal twisted his hands together, and his voice firmed. 'Grimm, I can't help but notice how ill at ease you are in my company since yesterday. I can only imagine you were felt offended when I implied you might be-you know- fond of men. If that's the reason, I'm truly sorry.'
Grimm brought the two speckled carthorses to a halt, and turned to face the older man. At the rate he was going, he would have no friends at all if he did not gain control of his unaccustomed spell of ill-humour.
'Listen, Numal, it's I who should be sorry. I was a little taken aback at what you asked me, but that's nothing to do with my being in a bad mood, I assure you. The last couple of days, my emotions seem to have been all over the place, and I don't know why. Just as a matter of interest, though, why did you think I might be inclined that way? I assure you I'm not. Don't worry, although the Guild spits fire at any hint of carnal awakenings in its mages, I won't take offence, I promise. I just want to clear the air, if I can.'
Numal cleared his throat. 'Well, I think I started to wonder when I saw you talking with Magemaster Crohn at my Acclamation feast. Your eyes seemed almost misty when you talked to him. And then, the next day, you just seemed very friendly towards me. I think it's just that you Questors can be so intense at times.'
Grimm flicked the reins, and the cart began to rumble onwards once more. Had he really been misty-eyed when talking to Crohn? He knew he had felt almost overjoyed after leaving Lord Thorn's chamber, and he had felt happy to meet his former tutor again. Yes, his reaction had been intense, although he had no idea why.
Then he had leapt into his new, unofficial Quest with almost frenetic zeal, despite knowing that such a secret undertaking would garner him neither acclaim nor official recognition. Grimm just felt so honoured that Lord Thorn trusted him to carry out the deed alone. When he encountered Crohn in the dining gallery, he had been filled with the warmth of deep gratitude at the very sight of the man who had made him what he was: a Mage Questor.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Numal's quizzical gaze as he mulled over his recent behaviour. Nonetheless, he was in no mood to answer until he was ready. He had chewed Numal out, considering that the man had belittled and demeaned his calling. Then he had turned his back on his best friend, after Dalquist's suggestion that Lord Thorn might be responsible for an uncaring and callous disregard for his Neophytes. Perhaps he was…
No! The thought-word slammed through his head like a crossbow bolt, and Grimm stifled the thought at birth. He was just becoming older and wiser, and finding a new and just respect for his superiors.
If only my Names-cursed head didn't ache so much!
'Let's just forget the whole thing, shall we, Numal?' Grimm said. 'It was just a silly misunderstanding, after all. I've had a bad headache for a while now, and I just can't seem to shift it. That's all there is.'
Grimm forced a smile onto his face, although it felt as if it hung there like a lead weight.
A relieved sigh from Numal told him that the matter was all but forgotten, and the pain in his skull seemed to lift a little. Nothing mattered but his Quest. Somehow, Grimm knew, his incessant, cursed introspection was causing the pain, and it appeared that all he needed to do to alleviate the dull, dismal ache was to keep his mind occupied.
At last, he noticed the beauty of the morning: the lovely play of light and shade across the forest, the dappled patterns of green and brown across the land, the deep blue of the celestial vault, and the invigorating warmth of the golden, rising sun.
'Numal, I think your suggestion of a little sing-song would be just the thing to celebrate this gorgeous day. Do you know The Fair Maiden of Sambata?'
'I think I remember that ditty,' the older mage replied. 'You take the main line, and I'll take the counterpoint.'
The rest of the morning seemed to fly by as the two mages sang and joked together.
As the sun passed its zenith, High Lodge hove into view and, for once, Numal was silent as the fantastic, golden edifice revealed itself.
'Impressive, isn't it?' Grimm felt like an old hand now. It might be only his second visit to the Lodge, but he spoke as a man of the world sharing familiar wonders with a callow ingenue.
Numal gaped as the bizarre, fabulous structure began to reveal itself: the bulbous cupola with its lace-like metal spider's web, the sky-probing turrets; the lambent sheen of the stonework.
'Impressive?' Numal yelped. 'It's incomparable!'
As the cart bore down towards the wide, empty plain on which High Lodge sat like some misshapen, golden mushroom, the radial tracery of roads leading to the Lodge became apparent, delicate black lines on pale-green baize. Now, the sheer scale of the immense structure began to assert itself, and Numal whistled in appreciation.
'It's utterly magnificent! I had no idea…'
Numal's voice was like that of a small child visiting a vast bazaar, filled with enticements and wonders beyond his imagining, and Grimm smiled.
'I defy anybody to see this and remain unmoved, Numal. I was just as stunned as you on my first visit, I promise you.'
As the cart approached the main gate, reserved for visiting mages, Grimm leaned towards his companion. 'It'll be the stiffest Mage Speech you've ever used from now on, I'm afraid. They're pretty starchy here, even compared to Arnor, but you'll soon get used to it.'
All Numal could manage was a nod, his lower jaw slack and unresponsive.
Grimm brought the cart to a halt in front of the two halberd-wielding guards who oversaw the gate, their weapons barring access. 'What business have you here?' a third man cried, stepping forward. He wore leather armour embellished by a burnished, silver escutcheon on his left breast, which, Grimm guessed, was some badge of rank, but this signified nothing. In this establishment, mages ruled supreme.
'Questor Grimm and Necromancer Numal from Arnor House seek admission,' Grimm called, showing the blue-gold ring adorning his left ring finger. He nudged Numal with his elbow, and the Necromancer followed suit.
'Thank you, Sirs, that's quite in order,' the officer said, and Grimm felt pleased that the soldier's manner held no hint of servility. 'If you'd be so good as to leave your cart here, I'll have someone take care of it, and I'll make sure your bags are taken to your rooms.'
As the two mages stepped from the conveyance, the officer clapped his hands, and the two guards swung their halberds into a vertical position.
The gate was, of course, shut, but Grimm waved his left hand at the portal and it opened, just like the main door of Arnor House.
The main concourse of the Lodge was as bustling and noisy as Grimm remembered it from his previous visit, and he saw the tall, imposing form of the Senior Doorkeeper standing just inside the doorway. The Doorkeeper's black staff, resplendent with seven gleaming gold rings, hovered obediently at his side.
'Greetings, Brother Mages,' the urbane mage intoned in a rich, deep voice.
'Greetings, Senior Doorkeeper,' the Questor replied.
'Ah, Questor Grimm, it is good to see you here once more,' the urbane, dark-skinned mage rumbled, and Grimm marvelled anew at the man's prodigious powers of memory, even if the ritual greeting held little warmth.
'Senior Doorkeeper, may I present Necromancer Numal, only recently Acclaimed? Numal, this is the Senior Doorkeeper of High Lodge…
'Numal!' Grimm jabbed an impartial elbow into the Necromancer's side.
'Oh, I'm sorry, Senior Doorkeeper.' Numal turned his wide eyes from the milling crowd of mages and Secular petitioners filling the enormous lobby.
'Remember, Mage Speech only,' Grimm whispered, noting Numal's inadvertent contraction and the Senior Doorkeeper's disapproving gaze at this breach of Lodge protocol.
Numal drew himself to his full height and cleared his throat. 'My apologies, Brother Mage,' he said, with the full punctilio expected of a thaumaturge. 'I found myself distracted by the magnificence of this splendid establishment.'
'Understandable,' the elegant major-domo said, nodding. 'Welcome, Necromancer Numal, to High Lodge. Your
