Alastair Archibald - A mage in the making

Grimm sometimes had to fight tears when he saw the emotional embraces, and some other poor boys were sobbing openly, deprived like him of the least iota of familial warmth and love.

Also, unlike the paying boys, Grimm would not be entitled to home leave at the end of each year; Magemaster Crohn had explained that the likelihood of charity Students returning to the House to justify the Guild's investment after the depredations of the harsh regime was slim. Nonetheless, charity boys would be allowed to send and receive letters from home at the end of their third year; this gave Grimm hope, and buoyed him up.

Madar seemed almost ebullient on visiting days, often elbowing Grimm and Argand to point out some physical or behavioural quirk in the visiting parents.

"Doesn't it bother you, Madar? Don't you miss your parents at all?" Grimm asked.

"I can hardly remember them," Madar replied with a cheerful grin. This seemed no brave pretence; Grimm's friend was telling the truth.

"My idea of fun is not sitting opposite my father while he tells me about his latest doxy and how well his business is going, while I know he's just counting the moments 'til he can go back home to his hoard and his mistress. My mother died when I was small. So no, I don't miss them in the slightest. What about you?"

"I didn't know either of my parents," Grimm said. "They both died of a fever when I was about two. I lived with Granfer and Gramma after that, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I do miss them sometimes. What about you, Argand?"

"I do miss my Da and Ma at times," Argand confessed, "but a few years away from my big sister Serah won't do me any harm. Come on, let's go and play marbles in the yard."

On his tenth birthday, Madar and Argand staged a small pageant in honour of their friend, and Grimm knew that he was truly home. He felt guilty that his memory of his grandparents' faces was fading, but he knew that in the year to come he would be able to receive letters from home, and to write back. Life was good.

Dear Granfer and Gramma,

Thank you very much for the lovely cake you sent me on my tenth birthday. It was very nice and I shared it with my friends Madar and Argand. They also enjoyed it. It is so good to be able to write you after all this time and I look forward to a letter from you.

I am doing well at runes and pretend spells and our mage master Kargan says I am good at singing. Magemaster Crohn is often fierce, but I do not think he really means it. I see him smile sometimes when he thinks nobody is looking.

Would you believe it, I am quite a good dancer now; even Magemaster Faffel has stopped hitting me with his stick. He is quite hard sometimes, so I am pleased. Madar is a good dancer; he helped me a lot.

I can play the lute a little bit now and I sang on stage as a minstrel a few weeks ago. Next year you can come to see me at the end of the term. I have lots and lots to tell you, but no space here.

Lots of love, Grimm

As Grimm was on his way back to his cell one night, he was intercepted by Doorkeeper and given the letter he had been waiting for. A communication from home, at last! He hustled to his cell and tore open the letter with clumsy, eager haste.

To his surprise, there were two different letters within the envelope, one signed by both his grandparents and one signed only by Granfer Loras. He read the latter epistle first.

My beloved grandson,

I hope this letter finds you as it leaves me. By now, you will know the truth about my former life, and I am deeply sorry that I did not tell you of this before, but you will appreciate that this is not a matter on which I can easily dwell.

Not even your grandmother knows of my past, and neither could I find it in me to tell your late father, my own son. I believe it is deep shame that drives me to hide the truth in this matter from those who know nothing of it.

However, now that I know that you know all too well what and who I was, I find it easy to write you these few lines. It is so good to be able once more to speak of my past and to write frankly to my beloved grandson.

I am ashamed of what I once did, Grimm, and I hope that you can find it within yourself to face and to master the legacy of shame that I have left you. However, please believe that I did not send you to the Guild because I wanted you to absolve me by being a better mage than I was.

I believe with all my heart that a bright lad like you, with such power, would be wasted as an apprentice smith in a dull backwater like Lower Frunstock, and I know that only within the Guild will you find any kind of fulfilment.

I regret I will be unable to visit you at the end of the year, for obvious reasons, but your grandmother is counting the days, and my heart will travel with her.

I love you, and I am deeply proud of you.

Loras Afelnor, once Mage Questor of the Seventh Rank, called the Firelord.

A lump filled Grimm's throat as he read the letter. Seeing his grandfather's full Guild style and cognomen, written in his own hand, brought home to him what the histories and remembrances relayed to him by the likes of Doorkeeper had not; Loras really had been among the most puissant of wizards, a wielder of the most destructive powers.

He had not always been the imperturbable, good-natured smith that was all Grimm could call to mind. Once, he had been a manipulator of arcane powers and a mage of the highest order. For too long now, Grimm had felt the weight of the shame transferred to him by that one, inexplicable, misguided act of Loras'. From this moment, he swore, he would persevere, taking inspiration from the man his grandfather had been before his downfall; a man widely liked and respected within the House and, until that day, one of its most potent magic-users.

Grimm knew the first letter had been for his eyes alone, and he tucked it inside his tunic. The second, much longer, letter was from both his grandparents and written in his grandmother's hand.

Dearest Grimm,

I would guess that, at this stage, you are finding it hard to imagine the apparent eternity of years that lie before you as in the Scholasticate, and I wish that your grandfather and I could come to see you, to express our love and pride for you in person.

Rest assured that we will both move heaven and earth to be with you at the end of the year, as soon as we are able.

Please keep a warm place in your heart for us, as we always shall for you, and never think for one moment that we ever wished to be parted from you.

Borrin and Mardel are asking after you and they begged you to visit when you are a mage dressed in fine robes. Poor boys; they miss you, too, and they have no idea of how long it takes to train a mage.

You will be pleased to know that Orel has finally married Aria. As a wedding present, your granfer made Orel a full partner in the smithy. Loras is not as young as he was and needs a hand with the heavy work, which Orel is happy to lend. Orel and Aria also send their love and hope that you are well…

The letter went on for several neatly-written pages more, and Grimm devoured the news of the home he had not seen for so long. He knew Loras could not have told Drima that he could never visit the House; at the end of the year, Grimm presumed, Granfer would have to make some excuse not to come. Grimm understood the reasons for the deception; Loras was banished forever from Guild premises, and to confess this would be to reveal his shameful past. Although he yearned to see Loras again, he understood why this was impossible.

He begged a piece of paper from Doorkeeper and began to pen a reply, in the full knowledge that all outgoing messages were subject to scrutiny before they were sent.