the bottom of my heart.'
That statement was easy, but Grimm knew the next would need all his powers of diplomacy.
'Lord Dominie, I thank the Names that I have been fortunate enough to become a member of an establishment as egalitarian and just as the Guild. However, I am still a very young Questor, and my heart still yearns to find glory in the fulfilment of arduous and challenging Quests, to the honour of the House that raised me.'
'Do you regard saving your Dominie from disgrace as insufficiently glorious for your ambition?' Horin's expression turned as dark as a thunder-cloud.
Grimm drew a deep breath. 'On the contrary, Lord Horin; I regard it as the pinnacle of my career,' he found himself saying, 'and I am grateful that I may have aided you in your deliverance from malicious influence. Nonetheless, I wish to prove myself further, by confounding additional threats to the Guild as an active Questor, rather than by stultifying in an office. I accept, with heartfelt gratitude, your offer of promotion, so soon after my last elevation, but I believe I can serve you better by remaining a simple House Questor.'
Horin stood and stared, but, to Grimm's immense relief, he laughed. 'I like your spirit, Questor. I am sure you will go far. Very well: I will grant you the Seventh Rank and allow you to go back to… what House is it?'
'Arnor House, Lord Dominie.'
'Ah, yes, Arnor House: one of our oldest and most respected establishments. That is fitting.
'Very well, my headstrong young sorcerer, I'll grant you that.'
Grimm felt astonished that the austere Lord Dominie had used a common contraction, in clear violation of Mage Speech, but he said nothing.
'What is your cognomen, young Questor?' Horin said. 'A mage needs a Patent of Puissance before he can obtain the Seventh Rank.'
'I have no cognomen, Lord Dominie,' Grimm admitted. 'I have been on only two, or maybe three, Quests, depending on how you count it.'
'Oh, that won't do!' Horin looked at the floor. 'All right, I was threatened by some old dragon, and you blasted her; you will be called 'the Dragonblaster' from now on. Is that acceptable?'
Grimm bowed. 'More than acceptable, Lord Dominie. Now I will be able to hold my head up in the company of other Questors, a few of whom seem shallow and puerile at times.'
He did not look at Guy, but he felt the Questor's eyes boring into his back.
'Well, that is decided!' Horin said. 'You will be 'Questor Grimm, called the Dragonblaster' from now on. I trust the cognomen will inspire you to fight with even greater ferocity for the Guild.'
I'd find even more inspiration from Drex's kisses, the young Questor thought, although he said nothing. Despite the ransomed Dominie's current generous mood, to ask for the annulment of one of the Guild's most severe dicta would be pushing things a little too far.
Horin leant close to Grimm. 'What about these two mages? What was their part?'
Grimm looked at the pathetic Numal, and he could not find it in himself to leave the Necromancer out of the congratulations, ineffectual though he had proved.
'Lord Horin,' he said, 'although I felt uncertain of my initial visions of Geomantic depredations, Necromancer Numal confirmed that they were prompted by astral projection: that my visions were true. Without him, I would have imagined that it had been only a dream. Without Necromancer Numal, I would never have embarked on this mission at all.
'His insight has therefore proved vital.'
Horan smiled. 'Necromancer Numal, you will become a Second Rank Mage. Does that not please you?'
Numal nodded, but he remained wordless, his eyes wide and his jaw slack.
'What did he do?' Horin asked, indicating Guy. 'Why did he not join with you in vanquishing the witch?'
Grimm suppressed a shrug and spoke with care. 'Questor Guy offered his full aid without hesitation, Lord Dominie. However, in the event, it was not needed, thanks to your strong recovery from the witch's influence.'
'I dislike the idea of a Questor who lacks the courage of his convictions,' Horin glared at the older Questor. 'Why did you fail to enter the room with your companions? I might have been in great danger!'
Guy pushed back his hood and said in a voice as smooth as silk, 'I judged it advisable that the corridor not be left unguarded, Lord Dominie.'
Horin snorted. 'The danger was in this chamber, Questor. You also showed disrespect towards me by approaching with your head covered.'
Grimm knew just why the sarcastic Questor had hidden his features, but he did not say so, as Horin glared at the hapless Guy.
'If you have no objection, Lord Dominie,' an embarrassed Grimm said, 'it has been a long night, and I beg your permission to take my leave.'
Horin waved his hands, and Grimm left, with Numal just behind him.
At the age of seventeen, he had reached the peak of his Speciality, and he had a full Guild cognomen. He was happy, and he did not care in the least what meagre titbits the Dominie might or might not choose to cast Guy's way.
As Grimm passed, Guy whispered, 'Help me out here, youngster! You owe me.'
Grimm ignored him and stepped out of the chamber, happy and fulfilled. He hoped he had seen the last of Lizaveta, and he could not bring himself to care about the unreliable Guy.
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Chapter 16: Nocturnal Interruption
Grimm slept well; his dreams were filled with images of triumphal parades, through which he rode astride a splendid, gleaming, black steed.
He moved through streets thronged with cheering bystanders, who threw handfuls of rose petals at him and cried out, 'Hail, Grimm Dragonblaster!'
Drexelica rode at his side, clad in a sheer gown of white silk, her hair garlanded with flowers and her face enraptured. She held out her slender hand and he took it, returning her warm, loving smile as the beat of a ceremonial drum began to mark their progress through the nameless city.
The drum grew ever louder, beginning to cloud his thoughts. I wish whoever was banging that bloody drum would shut up, he thought, as his head began to ache. 'SHUT UP!'
With that shout, the young mage awoke, realising that the sound of the drum in his dream was, in truth, the sound of someone knocking impatiently at his door. The room was still dark, so Grimm evoked a standard runic spell of Illumination to dispel the gloom. Collecting his thoughts, he raised himself from his bed and called out, 'Come in.'
The door swung open to reveal Guy Great Flame standing in the doorway. In marked contrast to his usual immaculate finery, the Questor's clothes hung in disarray, and his hair dangled in a matted mess. His face was suffused with scarlet, and his eyes bulged. Grimm noted how the mighty mage needed to hang onto the door- frame just to remain upright. In the quaint vernacular of Grimm's home town of Lower Frunstock, Great Flame might have been described as 'grape-eyed', 'hop-headed' or even the less polite 'piss-foundered'.
Whichever phrase one chose to employ, the man was, to say the least, somewhat the worse for wear.
'You!' shouted Guy, weaving from side to side and waving his free hand at Grimm. 'You… you total bashtard!'
Making a particularly violent evolution, he lost his hold on the door-frame and slipped to the floor, loud and inarticulate curses spilling from his lips in a jumbled stream of venom.
Grimm heard the sound of the connecting door, between his room and Numal's, opening and turned around to see the Necromancer, standing, bleary-eyed in a ridiculous, baggy night-shirt.
'Would you please keep the noise down in here, Grimm? I'm trying to sleep! What the…'
