"All right, boy, you'll do. Come along now." As Doorkeeper led the way out of the scullery, Grimm struggled to keep up without tripping over the hem of his voluminous robe. At almost every step of the way, the major-domo called out instructions on how the boy must comport himself in the presence of the Prelate.
He was not to speak unless directly addressed; he must address Thorn only as 'Lord Prelate'; he must bow on entering and on leaving the chamber; he was to volunteer no information not specifically requested by the Prelate. The list seemed endless to Grimm, who was breathing heavily by the time the pair had ascended the stairs to Thorn's chamber.
Before the old man's fist had touched the door, a voice boomed from within. "Enter, Doorkeeper."
The major-domo motioned Grimm to approach the Prelate's large and forbidding desk, and the boy managed a passable bow. He gazed at the stone floor, barely daring to breathe. This was a mighty wizard.
"Lord Thorn, this is the boy I told you about, here as you commanded."
"You may leave, Doorkeeper," intoned the Prelate in an off-hand tone, and Grimm heard the door close behind him. As long minutes passed, he waited nervously to be addressed as Doorkeeper had advised him, aware that the senior mage's eyes were seriously appraising him.
"Your name is Grimm Afelnor, is it not?" asked the Prelate.
Grimm nodded, his nerves stopping his tongue. With an effort, the child managed to whisper "Yes, Lord Prelate."
More moments passed. "Do you know why you are here, child?"
In a slightly stronger voice, Grimm replied, "Granfer… my grandfather wants me to become a magician, Lord Prelate."
"The term used within the Guild is 'mage', Grimm. A magician is merely a town performer, a mountebank, a bumbling purveyor of simple charms and illusions with which to bedazzle the uneducated and the credulous."
Grimm felt a little bedazzled himself at several of the strange words the Prelate used, but he held his tongue as Doorkeeper had ordered.
"A mage is a true master of the arcane arts, a man to be feared and respected, a man with true dedication and willpower. Do you think that, one day, you could become such a man, Grimm Afelnor?"
"I don't know, Lord Prelate."
"Look into my eyes, child," said Thorn softly. Grimm reluctantly raised his head, and he saw for the first time the face of the Prelate. Heavy eyebrows hung like hovering birds of prey over a pair of amber eyes that seemed to burn like coals, windows to the mighty will blazing within.
Grimm forced himself to lock his gaze upon Thorn's eyes, suppressing the strong urge to look away. After a few moments, the boy's eyes began to water, but he let the tears run down his cheeks unchecked.
After it seemed as if an age had passed, Thorn nodded.
"That is good. You have willpower, one of the most important attributes of a mage. You have self-controclass="underline" that is another. However, it will take more, much more, to become a mage. If I do decide to accept you as Student, it will be on harsh terms.
"Most Students within this House are here because their families have money and influence. They may leave at any time, with no penalty save a financial consideration. If accepted, you will be taken in as a charity case. If we decide that you have not given of your best at any time, you may be required to remit the cost of your schooling in any capacity that we may decide, as a scullion or other menial for as long as we require. This will not normally be for a period of less than twenty years, due to the great expense that the House will have lavished on you.
"This is no ordinary school, young Afelnor. Some labour for decades to carry the staff and ring that denote a true mage. The majority fall by the wayside, having learnt a few trifling competencies and nothing more. A paying Student may leave at any time, whereas you will be required to stay here as long as we may deem fit, in order to reclaim the effort that we have put into your education. We are talking of many years of struggle, Grimm Afelnor.
"Before I accept you as Student, I ask you to think of the years ahead of you. Will you give your heart and your soul to us, to use as we see fit? You are young, and you can have no concept of the gulf of time ahead of you.
"Nevertheless, we require your word and your bond to give us your all. Will you serve this House and this Guild with all your heart?"
Grimm stifled a sob. From what little he could understand of the Prelate's speech, it seemed that Lord Thorn had told him he might never, ever see his home again. To a seven-year-old child, this talk of years of effort seemed an eternity of loneliness, a vast empty chasm separating him from everything he had known. However, his grandfather, the gentle, loving man who had brought him up for all the time he could remember, had pleaded with tearful eyes for Grimm to submit to the will of the Guild for as long as was necessary.
Although Grimm recognised that Granfer Loras had his best interests at heart, the prospect of an uncertain future weighed on him heavily. He had to admit, even to himself, that to succeed to his grandfather's position might have been difficult, but, in truth, Grimm had found much of the fetching and carrying in the smithy too hard for him. Although he possessed a certain wiry strength, he lacked the more solid musculature and bone structure that might make a competent smith of him in later life.
He preferred the company of books to that of other children, and only Granfer had understood when Grimm had talked of the colours that he could sometimes see around people when they were happy, sad, lying or speaking the truth. He had even helped Grimm to recognise better the colours invoked by various emotions and moods. It was shortly after Grimm had first mentioned the colours that Granfer had begun to speak of Grimm entering the Guild.
Grimm knew what his grandfather wanted for him and, even if the road might be hard, it was enough for the boy to know that it was what Granfer Loras wanted.
Swallowing hard in an attempt to dislodge the lump in his throat, Grimm spoke. "Yes, Lord Prelate, I promise to do my best for the Guild for as long as you want. I will try my hardest to make you and my grandfather proud of me."
Thorn ran his hand through his greasy, thinning hair and bowed his head for a moment, plainly deep in thought. For a hopeful heartbeat or two, Grimm wondered if the Prelate intended to send him back home, but Lord Thorn's next words robbed him of this hope.
"Grimm Afelnor, you are hereby accepted into the Ancient and Honourable Guild of Magic-users, Sorcerers and Thaumaturges as a Student in this House," droned Lord Thorn, as if reciting a litany. "You will receive whatever training and education the Presidium of this House may see fit to bestow upon you.
"In return, you will diligently and enthusiastically comply with all instructions and orders given by your superiors, and with all the rules and ordinances of the House, which will be duly explained to you. No visitors will be allowed during your training, save by my specific permission. That is all. Doorkeeper!"
The major-domo must have been waiting outside the door, since he swiftly entered the room.
"Afelnor is accepted as Student, Doorkeeper. Take him to the Scholasticate and instruct him in the ways of the House. That is all."
Doorkeeper bowed and motioned Grimm to follow suit, whereupon the old mage swept the child out of the room.
After the door had shut and the footsteps had faded, Thorn took a bottle of liquor from a drawer and drank deeply, calming his nerves.
The power in the child's eyes had reminded him too much of Loras Afelnor's intense gaze. Taking up the scrying-crystal, he summoned the Head of the Scholasticate, Urel Shelit, to his room.
"Greetings, Lord Prelate."
"Greetings to you also, Senior Magemaster Urel. I have a new charity Student, Grimm Afelnor by name. He joins us today."