Alastair Archibald - A mage in the making

Grimm was puzzled. "But Dalquist isn't an Alchemist, he's a Questor," he said, wrinkling his brow in perplexity.

"That's what I say," the older boy said. "It's all very odd. You stick around here, you hear all sorts of funny things. I'm not even sure old Erek was any kind of Alchemist-I think that's just a story they've cooked up." He shrugged and turned back to his meal.

With no further information on the incident, the heated discussion petered out. "Oh well, at least old Kargan isn't quite so hard on us these days," Madar observed with a bright smile.

"That won't last, Madar, you'll see," was Argand's gloomy response. "They're just toying with us; it's the lull before the storm. This whole thing reeks with suspicion, if you ask me."

"You think everything's suspicious, Argand," Grimm said. "Remember when Kargan had that fever and stayed in bed, and you told us all he'd been carted off to the mad-house?"

"That was different," Argand grumbled. "If he wasn't, he should have been!"

The conversation drifted into wild speculations about all aspects of Scholasticate life, but the boys steered clear of the deaths of Erek and Urel.

Back in his cell that night, Grimm mused over what little he had seen of the incident. He knew Urel would never have hurt Erek, and nor would Erek have dreamed of raising a hand to Urel. His mind kept going back to the screaming and shouting Erek, and the strange, incomprehensible language that issued from his lips just before the explosion; he could not get the sounds out of his head. When sleep finally found him, his dreams were disturbing.

After two years in the Scholasticate, Grimm had proved to be an apt student, quickly mastering the complexities of the seven families of runes, learning how to write, pronounce and inflect them in various circumstances.

Despite his shy nature, he felt his confidence growing stronger by the day. Now, even some of the more snobbish Students treated him with a measure of respect or, at least forbearance.

However, such tolerance was far from universal. On one occasion, the bully, Shumal Tolarin, deliberately tripped him outside the Refectory, sending Grimm sprawling to the floor, winded and with a bloodied nose.

"Ooh, so sorry!" Shumal said with a smirk on his face, as if daring the smaller boy to try something, but Grimm was too busy trying to get his breath back even to speak.

Grimm said nothing about this, even to Madar and Argand. Instead, he bided his time until he came upon Shumal in a dark corridor without his sly acolyte, Ruvin.

While Shumal had his back turned, Grimm leapt on the bully, slammed him into the wall, punched him in the nose and threw him to the floor.

Shumal was larger than Grimm and not the kind of boy to take such an affront lying down. Lurching to his feet, he gave easily as good as he got. By the time they stepped apart, their chests heaving, both boys were marked, Grimm somewhat more so than Shumal.

However, Shumal's splendid silk robes were torn and scuffed, whilst Grimm's rough, patched homespun clothing looked little different after the fight. There was no time for Shumal to change his clothes, and he looked in a sorry state when he entered Crohn's classroom. The Magemaster made a show of ignoring the gloriously-hued bruises and contusions on both boys, but he awarded a severe penance to Shumal for being untidy in class, in direct contravention of rule 2.1. Grimm was not punished.

After this incident, Shumal gave Grimm a wider berth, substituting sullen disdain for overt insults and assaults. Although Grimm had told nobody in the class about the altercation, except for Madar and Argand, the truth was plain for all to see. Many now accorded him a significant measure of respect.

More conscientious than some of the other boys in the Lower Scholasticate, the three friends studied often together, aiding each other and each reinforcing the others' knowledge and confidence. Even the nearly tone-deaf Argand learned to handle rhythmic chants and simple songs, and even Kargan of the over-sensitive ears praised him for this.

As if to compensate for Argand's lack of ear, he proved himself adept at the fluent scribing of even fourth-order runic phrases, seamlessly linking the complicated twists and curlicues of the runes together with flowing strokes of the pen. He was only too happy to aid Grimm, whose penmanship was far from exemplary.

Madar, the most talented and versatile musician of the class by some margin, gained great proficiency in the reading of the aura he had once found so difficult, rivalling even the mastery of his friend, Grimm.

Now, Grimm was nine years old, and the boys began to study other arts. Grimm found painting, dancing and woodworking difficult, but he proved more adept at mathematics, languages, history and geography. With some of the Students, Grimm had garnered a reputation as somewhat of a toady, just because of his facility with magical studies. The relative lack of rebukes from the Magemasters had only served to reinforce this image. His new problems now seemed to mollify his accusers.

Now his fallibilities had been revealed, the other boys perhaps began to see him as a mere human like them. Grimm even welcomed the waspish rebukes he received from the acerbic Magemaster Faffel, who taught Grimm's least favourite subject, Courtly Graces.

When the hapless youth was less than perfect in his dancing, as he often was, Faffel would unleash an acid tongue, the back of his hand, or a casually-cast punitive spell. The Magemaster did not have Kargan's scruples over judging the less able, and he allowed the class free reign to laugh and mock whenever Grimm made an awkward move.

"I was not aware that this particular dance was called 'The Fairy Elephant'!" Faffel spat on one occasion. "Thank you so much for enlightening us all, Afelnor. We are in your debt."

Even the mild-mannered Grimm found himself biting off retorts at times like these. Why couldn't Faffel see that he was trying his best?

The sharp-tongued Magemaster regarded his particular discipline as the most important on the syllabus, as all the other Magemasters seemed to do, but he was more insistent and vitriolic in its defence.

"Afelnor! Yes, you, Afelnor! Attend to me! You may think that being a mage is all about dazzling displays of power, but I would advise you to correct that impression at once! A mage may have the power and skill to shame the most potent practitioners of the art, but it will bring his House little credit if he trips over his feet in the simplest dance, or belches at table, or slouches like a slattern.

"How many times have I told you that 'power and presence complete the mage'? Again, please; this time with at least a modicum of grace, if you have the slightest concept of the word!"

It was ever a puzzle to Grimm that, despite his exquisite sense of timing and his skill with music, he could not seem to persuade his feet to move in time with the music, earning him many rebukes and punishments from Faffel. He found it impossible to dance with an invisible partner, since Faffel's instruction consisted of diagrams and descriptions of how a dancing partner would move.

Madar, on the other hand, was an excellent dancer, and he underwent the penance of teaching Grimm to dance by acting as a female partner, without the least word of complaint, taking Grimm through all the main dances in the Refectory when meals were finished. At first, Grimm felt deep embarrassment to put on these displays in front of the other boys, but Madar persisted to the amusement of all, and Grimm began to improve, becoming a tolerably competent dancer. At times, he began to earn a little grudging, lukewarm praise from the curmudgeonly Magemaster Faffel.