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Thorn shook his head.  Although you are no longer a Student, Afelnor, I regret
that this is a most critical time in your vocation. Having seen some of the
outside world and its baser temptations, you may feel seduced by it. I regret
that you must remain resident at the House for the nonce."
The Prelate watched the slender youth for a few moments, searching for any
sign of annoyance or petulance, but he saw none, even though he knew Afelnor
must be disappointed.
The boy's self-control is exemplary. I must find another Quest for him soon.
"I will, however, review this situation after your next Quest, Afelnor,
subject to a satisfactory report from the senior mage."
"Thank you, Lord Prelate, Afelnor replied, bowing.  I appreciate your
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generosity."
"A carriage will arrive here in the morning to convey you to High Lodge. I am
advised that you will be staying there for three days. There may be dances and
festivities which you will be expected to attend during this time."
"Thankfully, Lord Prelate, I now have plenty of changes of clothes, and I will
ensure that I heed Magemaster Faffel's kind advice concerning proper
deportment at such affairs. The quirky smile flitted briefly once more across
Grimm's face.
"Thank you, Questor Grimm, and well done. I will expect a report from you on
your visit when you return. Enjoy yourself. That will be all."
At Thorn's usual peremptory dismissal, Grimm stood, bowed with immaculate
courtesy and exited the room.
The Prelate, full of his election to the Presidium, drew his scrying-crystal
to him. Lizaveta would surely be pleased at his news.
* * * *
Grimm made his way down the stairs to the Great Hall to where Dalquist was
waiting, and he blew out his cheeks in an explosive exhalation.
"Dalquist, I never want to go through that again! I felt like I was in front
of some damned inquisition! He shivered in mock terror.
"Did he accept your report, Grimm?"
"I think so, Dalquist. I was nervous as Hell, but I don't think I showed it. I
was sitting straight as a ramrod."
Grimm swiped his hand through his hair in relief.
"That's the only way to deal with Lord Thorn, Dalquist said and chuckled.  I
think the old sod's got  Power and Presence tattooed on his backside. You'll
do. I was worried that recent events might have got the better of you, which
is why I gave you that little test yesterday. If you can face down Thorn, then
the Broken Bottle should be a cakewalk from now on."
"Dalquist, does the Refectory have any alcohol? Grimm asked.  I could do with
a little restorative drink right now."
"I think we could get the staff to come up with something, the older Questor
replied, smiling.  I could do with a stiff medicinal dose as well."
A small head, like a fuzzy, horned marble, arose from Grimm's left pocket.
"What about me? a familiar voice twittered.
Grimm started.  I'd all but forgotten about you, demon. I trust you'll keep
your mouth shut about what you've heard over the last couple of days?"
Thribble licked his tiny lips with a minuscule forked tongue.  If you were to
obtain a minim of peach brandy, human, I might be persuaded to forget my own
name."
"We'll see what we can do, Thribble, Dalquist said, with a broad smile.
* * * *
Grimm felt more than satisfied. His Mage Staff, Redeemer, was no longer naked.
A smart, indelible gold ring now signified his full acceptance into the ranks
of the Guild Questors, and he had eaten a splendid lunch. He liked to take a
short nap after a heavy meal when he was able to do so, but he always needed a
little literary diversion before he could drift off to sleep. Since he had
read all the books in his room, he went in search of new inspiration in the
Scholasticate Library.
As usual, the labyrinthine room was all but deserted. A young Student was
diligently studying a text that Grimm knew only too well:  Mental Control and
Mediation; Finding One's Inner Self.'
An old mage, an Alchemist, to judge by his mottled and stained skin, sat
snoozing at one of the corner tables.
Grimm moved to a rack of books labelled  Guild History', and he climbed atop a
set of wheeled steps in order to reach the top shelf. He reached out to take a
tome called 'High Lodge: Flower of the Guild' when he noticed that the book to
its right was inverted. Long schooling in decorum and neatness had led him to
deplore disorder, and he removed the book in order to replace it in the
correct orientation. As he did so, a small sheet of paper, too large to be a
page marker, fluttered to the floor.
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Intrigued, he climbed down to retrieve the page. The paper was crisp and
slightly yellowed, implying that it might offer a view of olden times in the
House, and he opened it with care. Maybe this was some secret note from one
miscreant Student to another, outlining some prank that they might play on one
of the Magemasters; perhaps it was merely a set of revision notes for some
long-since Acclaimed Neophyte. Either way, it might prove interesting.
L.A.,
I feel constrained to bring to your awareness some most urgent news of which I
have recently become aware. Not all of this House are as trustworthy as they
might appear; vile intrigue is afoot. Speak to nobody of this note. I entreat
you most urgently to meet me outside the West Wing at midnight tomorrow, when
I will acquaint you with some disturbing information of the greatest import to
your well-being.
Your friend,
Kitaur
Grimm was shaken by the note; the letters  L.A. were the very initials of his [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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