Still not trusting himself to speak, Grimm nodded again to the Magemaster and followed him back into the classroom, his head bowed.
Kargan seemed to grow in stature, and the familiar, manic grimace came over his face as he flung the door open in his normal, energetic way.
"Right!" he yelled. "That's enough of that! We will revisit the charm of Mage Light in its third form. Trune, you loathsome toad, be so good as to demonstrate the chant, if you can bear to drag yourself from your slothful reverie…"
The relentless tutoring went on as if nothing had happened.
During the evening meal, Madar and Argand joined Grimm in the refectory.
"What did old Kargan say to you outside the class, Grimm?" Madar asked, his eyes wide and earnest.
Feeling a little less self-conscious talking to his friends, Grimm spoke in a hoarse croak: "He told me to practice until I can sing again. It's not very encouraging, though, Madar. It feels as if I had a pineapple stuck in my throat. I sound like a bloody donkey."
Madar gave a soothing, understanding nod, and Argand said, "Well; I must be more mature than you, because my voice hasn't broken yet, and I already manage to sound like a donkey."
They all laughed, and Madar added, "You're flattering yourself, Argand. I'd shoot a donkey that made the racket you do."
A feeble sally, but they all laughed anew, and Grimm's laughter was as loud as that of his friends; he recognised that the sounds of his mirth bore a distinct resemblance to the braying of an ass.
Madar said "My father always moans about the loss of the fine voice he says he had as a boy, but he is first baritone in our local choir. He would easily be able sing our chants, and, so will you, once you have mastered your new voice.
"I guess the main thing is that your ear hasn't changed, so you'll be harder on yourself than any Magemaster could be. In no time, I bet you'll be leading the class in singing again. Even though you sound awful now." Grimm lightly punched Madar in the arm, and the redhead pretended to tremble with fear at the assault.
Argand mused for a moment, and said, "I think I can see why they won't let us try to cast anything. I bet they wait 'til your voice's broken; the chance of a miscast is too great otherwise. What if your voice broke in the middle of a Fire spell?" He shook his head. "The consequences don't bear thinking about. You could burn down the whole Scholasticate!" He grinned. "It might not be such a bad idea, after all!"
They all laughed again, and Grimm felt better than he had at the start of the meal.
Later, in his cell, he started to work his voice again, at first quietly, then louder, as some measure of confidence returned. It still sounded awful, but he was getting the feel of it now. He carried on with ever-increasing volume until the older boy in the next cell demanded that Grimm shut up so he could sleep.
The novelty of Grimm's new voice wore off after a few days. Within a week, he had some control at least over his normal speaking voice, although singing was still a major problem.
After a few months more, several other boys' voices began to break, and Grimm was no longer alone in his affliction. Indeed, those whose voices remained high and childish began to be the butt of humour, the more so when Grimm and others began to sport beards of one kind or another.
The boys were allowed to wear beards, on the condition that they were maintained in good order. Grimm's beard grew like a patchy black bush, and he had to spend an inordinately long time tending and grooming it each day. It was a badge of manhood to be worn with pride; many of the other boys could muster only a sparse sprinkling of downy fluff on their cheeks.
Crohn warned of growing physical urges that might afflict the boys, and he taught them further meditation exercises to overcome the problem.
Stern lectures were given on vague subjects such as "pollution of the body and mind"-this 'pollution' was never defined in any specific detail-and "unnatural abuses". Any boy caught giving in to these urges would be dismissed at once, since it was evident that such people did not have the mastery of will necessary to become mages. Most of the Students feigned bafflement at what these practices might be, but the stern and imperturbable Crohn seemed remarkably reticent on the subject. All noted with glee his stammer and his red face when any Student pressed him on the matter, as they often did. For once, they had found a chink in the formidable Magemaster's armour, and they assaulted it with ruthless, boyish cruelty at every opportunity.
Kargan told the boys that those who had already found and mastered their adult voices would be but a step away from being considered for early elevation to the rank of Neophyte, with all the advantages and privileges the title bestowed. The possible rewards of advancement, when compared to the prospect of remaining a humble Student for another two years gave Grimm the determination to persevere with his new, unmelodious voice.
At times, he believed that he had gained full control of his wayward vocal cords, especially when he had carried a tune or a chant to the end without any error. However, on many occasions, when tasked by Kargan to attempt a more difficult chant, Grimm would find that his voice betrayed him at some critical juncture. At these times, Kargan would sigh and give a small shake of the head. At least Grimm was more fortunate than Madar, who all but lost his splendid voice in its entirety; for a while, he was quite inconsolable. All he could offer was a breathy growl in place of his once excellent treble.
Argand was luckiest of all. His voice descended in short order to an impressive, booming bass register, although it was no more tuneful than before. He also grew prodigious amounts of hair on his face, chest and arms to the envy of many other boys and, his beard was stronger, faster-growing and more complete than those of the other boys. A beard was the mark of a man in the Scholasticate, and it was clear Argand was a boy no longer. Whilst Grimm's beard grew quickly enough, it refused to take root around the pale margins of his lower lip, a constant frustration to him.
Shumal and Ruvin, who still swaggered around the Scholasticate like arrogant twins, seemed to be bound together even in the matter of bodily maturity. They retained their soprano voices, smooth skin and puppy fat long after Grimm had mastered both his beard and his new voice. This reduced their menacing presence even more in his eyes. With new respect from the less mature boys, Grimm felt that he was becoming accepted almost as an equal by the rest of the class.
At last, the day came when Kargan pronounced himself satisfied that Grimm had regained full control of his singing; the Student now possessed a voice capable of ranging from a smooth baritone to a confident tenor. Grimm did not feel that it was nearly as good as his former, cut-glass treble had been, but, at least, he had to acknowledge that he could sing in tune again.
By now, many more boys had lost their soprano voices and were struggling themselves, and Grimm felt some inner satisfaction at this. Madar was still having a bad time of it, and Grimm had often to console his friend and encourage him to persevere.
"Come on, Madar, it's not the end of the world. You always said singing was a chore, anyway. It's just a bit more of a chore now."
"I lied," Madar croaked. "Music was the one thing I was really good at. Bugger it! My old man'd be laughing his head off if he knew." He was close to tears, something that Grimm had never seen before in his self-confident friend.
"Oh, just go on doing your creaking-door imitation if you want to, then!" Grim snapped. "It's something we've all got to get through, Madar. Stop moaning and practice; otherwise your old man'll really have a reason to laugh."