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do love books so."
"In that case, Grimm, I'm more than happy to do so. I'm afraid I must leave
you now, as I have a few duties to perform. I promise I'll try to see how you
are getting on from time to time, whenever I'm here. We charity boys should
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support each other."
"Thank you for spending some time with me, Dalquist. Grimm struggled to find
the right words.  Thank you ever so much for showing me this lovely library. I
was feeling very unhappy when you came to see me, but now I'm feeling much
better. Thank you."
Dalquist nodded.  Think nothing of it. Believe me; I know only too well how
difficult enjoyment can be to find at times for charity Students. Enjoy your
books."
"I will, Dalquist, Grimm whispered, as the mage left the room, closing the
door behind him.
When the mage had left, Grimm turned his voracious gaze to the nearest
bookshelf. Thaumaturgy and Its Application to Meteorological Phenomena sounded
intriguing, but it seemed to consist of nothing but cryptic diagrams, so he
put it back on the shelf.
Meditation; the Art of Inner Calm sounded boring, as did A First Primer of
Cadences and Chants. He picked up The Necromantic Vocation and leafed through
it, but he soon returned it to the rack with some distaste; it seemed the book
was concerned mostly with dead bodies.
The books seemed to be in no particular order that he could fathom, so he
began to dart around at random.
Finally, he hit upon Herbs and Plants; Their Attributes and Uses and took it
to a battered but comfortable leather chair near the door. Opening the book,
Grimm saw a beautiful, hand-painted picture of a herb he knew well. Dock, he
thought, it's good for nettle stings. Reading on, he saw that its  primary
attributes were  cool",  shady and  watery". Then, as he read on, he saw
that the  secondary attributes were  Febrifuge",  Balm and  Emetic".
Looking further down the page, there were further details of the kinds of
magic to which the dock was  sympathetic", those to which it was
 antagonistic" which, Grimm gathered, meant unkind, although he couldn't see
how a herb could be either kind or nasty and the  tertiary attributes", which
were described by strange, angular symbols.
At the bottom of the page was the cryptic comment Suitable in all cases in the
primary and secondary phases where indicated, tertiary attributes to be
applied only by Healers of the Third Rank and above, on pain of undesired
resonances in the infrastomal conjoints. This meant nothing to Grimm, but the
words had a certain ring of majesty about them.
As he read on, he saw many plants and herbs that he recognised and others he
did not, but even the humblest weed seemed to have significance far above his
imaginings and his comprehension. Grimm was still engrossed in the book when
the urgent peal of a bell sounded in his head, if not in his ears. With a
start, he turned to see Doorkeeper towering above him.
"It is twelve o'clock. We must go to the Refectory now, young Grimm, or you
will miss your luncheon. We can't have a growing lad missing his meals. Grimm
had not been aware of the passage of time, and he realised that he had spent
nearly two hours absorbed in the strange book.
"I'm sorry, Doorkeeper. The book was very interesting."
Doorkeeper glanced at the title of the volume that Grimm held, and he raised
his eyebrows quizzically.  Isn't that book a little old for you? Surely you
don't understand it all."
Grimm shook his head.  I just like the words. I know a lot of these plants,
but I never knew that there was so much to know about them.
"Groundsel's good for bad dreams, he said, eager to relate what he had
learned,  and blackweed can be used for colic. Bottle-spurge can be used in
the ... in the second phase of ... of thaumaturgic group spells of the third
order, whatever that means."
Doorkeeper could not understand why anybody might read for pleasure. The last
time he had read an entire book was on the day before he was finally Acclaimed
as a Mage, and that was just so he could be sure of what he had to do at the
ceremony. Ever since that time, he had vowed with fierce determination to
avoid literature whenever he could.
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Muttering to himself,  Can't be good for the eyes, he led Grimm down the worn
spiral staircase and into the corridor.
Chapter 7: Long Arm of the House
« ^ »
Dalquist was on his way through the great hall back to his own cell to engage
in some study when an insistent tickle in his forebrain told him that Lord
Prelate Thorn required his presence immediately.
His heart began to beat faster. This could be what he had been waiting for!
Checking his reflection in the black sheen of the magically sharp Breaking
Stone, he smoothed his brown beard and ordered his hair as best he could
without the aid of comb or brush. When the Prelate called, one did not dally!
With a tug at his robes, he strode resolutely towards Thorn's turret, letting
his staff, Shakhmat, bob merrily at his side in a jaunty manner of its own
accord. After a few moments, he remembered proper mage protocol, took tight
hold of the baton and assumed a more sedate manner. He would be on his guard,
too, with his language. Formal Mage Speech would be the order of the day.
The tightly winding staircase was very difficult to negotiate whilst carrying
a six-foot staff, which hampered him to a considerable extent, with Shakhmat
clattering on the turret's stone walls every few steps, announcing his
approach. It occurred to Dalquist that this might not be coincidental. Thorn
must have chosen this tower as his sanctuary for this very reason: its
defensible qualities.
Drawing a deep breath in an attempt to still his pounding heart, the young
Questor knocked three times on the door and waited. A laconic  Come issued
from the inner sanctum and Dalquist entered the chamber. Closing the door [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]