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 baggage is being conveyed to your rooms: four-thirty-five and four-thirty-seven in the Accommodation Block. Would you be so kind as to accompany me?"
****
Grimm knew the Lodge was like a rabbit-warren, all but impenetrable in its intricacy, except to its incumbents.
"Senior Doorkeeper," he said in a polite voice. "Our long journey has given me a considerable thirst, and I would relish the chance to slake this before we settle in. Would you be so kind as to furnish us with Location Stones, so that we may find our way without imposing on your valuable time?"
The dark man's eyes widened, as if Grimm's request might constitute some heinous breach of protocol, but he nodded.
"Very well, Questor Grimm. Your request is irregular, but not unreasonable." He fished in a commodious pocket, and drew out a pair of green gems. "I will trust you to return these baubles before you leave High Lodge. They are not to leave here with you. Is that well understood?"
Grimm bowed his head. "Brother Mage, I swear as a representative of Arnor House that your trust will not be misplaced."
He took the gems, passing one to his bewildered and uncomprehending companion. "Thank you, Senior Doorkeeper."
He felt tempted to add "That is all, my man," but stopped himself. He might find the mage's prissy ways irksome, but it would be folly to antagonise him; he was only fulfilling his role to the best of his abilities.
"Oh, I have just one more thing to ask," he said, remembering his mission. "Are the Sisters of Divine Serenity still domiciled here?"
Senior Doorkeeper nodded. "Yes, Questor Grimm. Many Seculars here are in need of spiritual enlightenment, and the Sisters fulfil that need admirably, although they accept no male devotees. May I ask, therefore, what interest a Fifth Rank Mage Questor might have in an exclusively female religious Order?"
"My interest is purely academic, I assure you, Doorkeeper. It is, after all, incumbent upon a Guild Mage to be aware of the tenets of alternative creeds, so that he may avoid unfortunate breaches of protocol in social situations." This might be the simple answer, the rote answer, but the Questor felt surprised and not a little disgusted at how easily the falsehood rose to his tongue.