"That is a poor reason to become an especial friend," Crohn said, his expression strange.
"Magemaster Crohn, I can remember Rule 3.14.8 quite well," Grimm said, smiling, thinking he understood Crohn's quizzical look.
Rule 3.14.8 concerned 'unnatural and unwholesome relationships', and several years passed before the meaning of the regulation became clear to him. He knew such relationships were forged within the Scholasticate on occasion, and, although he could not understand the attraction of two men for each other, he knew how scarce true affection was within the House. He could not bring himself to condemn such associations. Even the Magemasters seemed to tolerate these illicit liaisons at times, at least when they occurred between Students of wealthy families and were not too blatant.
"That is not what I was trying to imply, Questor Grimm," Crohn said, his tone neutral. "I merely meant that a stolid, middle-aged Necromancer is an unusual intimate for a young, active Questor to have. A Necromancer has little sleight that a mage of your calling could not master, except the ability to contact the souls of the dead."
Crohn's voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. "I believe you are still hoping to discover some hidden truth behind the death of Prelate Geral, so as to exonerate your grandfather. Am I right?"
Grimm felt warmth flooding into his face: he knew that he could not lie to this man. He was indeed dedicated to prove Loras innocent of treason, but Crohn had it wrong. How much could he trust the ancient mage, who reported directly to the Prelate?
Crohn leaned closer to the Questor, his voice a faint murmur. "I swear on my name as a Guild Mage that anything you tell me, short of outright treason, will remain between the two of us. My sole wish is to save you embarrassment and disgrace. Lord Thorn and the Conclave will hear nothing of what you choose to say, but speak truly."
Grimm closed his eyes and stood for a few moments, deep in thought. How he yearned to tell another Guildbrother of his doubts! He knew he could confide in his best friend, Questor Dalquist, but Dalquist was only ten years older than he, and had never known Loras Afelnor. Crohn, however, had studied alongside Loras and had known him well.
The old Magemaster might have put him through the gruelling Questor Ordeal, but Grimm knew Crohn to be an honourable man; he would not betray anything told him in confidence.
"You are correct in assuming that I have such a mission in mind, Senior Magemaster," he said, choosing his words with care, "but I will tell you that my association with Necromancer Numal has nothing to do with it. I have good reason to believe that Geomancy, witch magic, lies behind my grandfather's bizarre act. However, I have no reason to believe that the soul of the dead Prelate could communicate any useful information in this regard; the man was comatose in his last days. He is no tool or puppet in any plan of mine, I assure you.
"As a former Charity boy, I recognise Numal's loneliness and feel drawn to him for this reason, and for this 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.