The new Students were dismissed to the Refectory for the mid-day meal, and some of the other boys sat with Grimm to ask him more about these mysterious colours and what they meant. He was more than happy to tell them what he know about the skill, but the boys drifted away after he had told them what they wanted to know. He looked about for Madar, the friendly boy he had met in the hall, but Madar was earnestly, confidently holding court at the far end of the Refectory. A large group of other young Students seemed quite engrossed in whatever it was that Madar was saying.
Knowing he was forbidden to sit in the hallowed area reserved for the rich Students, Grimm worked his way through an insipid meal of broad beans and mutton in silence, ignored by the other Students at his end of the Refectory.
In the afternoon, the boys were faced with the dynamic, enthusiastic figure of Magemaster Kargan, a welcome change from the forbidding Crohn, with a shock of grey hair, a neat goatee of the same colour and blue-tinted spectacles that gave him an indefinable air of mystery. Despite the colour of his hair and beard, Kargan's unlined face and broad, toothy smile looked as if they belonged on a much younger man.
Where Crohn had announced the beginning of his lecture by banging his staff on the stone floor, Kargan began by ostentatiously slamming a pile of books onto the front desk with an impressive thump that made even the most torpid boy jerk into an upright position.
Leaning forward on the balls of his feet, he spoke in a conspiratorial stage whisper.
"You may have heard rumours that I am slightly unhinged," he began. "Those rumours may well be true." The beaming, somewhat manic expression on his face did not contradict this statement.
"Greetings, Students," he cried in a loud but singsong voice. "I am Kargan Lindata." He paused to scribble his name on the slate board, "and for my pains it has fallen to my lot to try to teach you talentless ingrates something of Runes, Spell Reading and Recital."
Kargan drew a deep breath and continued in a quieter tone.
"No doubt," he said, "Magemaster Crohn has told you much of our noble calling but, in my experience, most of the pampered pets that come here merely hope to learn a few impressive tricks. Whether you learn or not is nothing to me; I have seen many a moneyed dilettante pass through these halls and I am not one who lusts for a magely Acclamation; I have held this staff for over twenty years, and I could not care less if you fritter your whole time away until you become bored and leave.
"Nonetheless, I have to try to cram some of my hard earned knowledge into those thick pates of yours until something sticks."
The booming voice dropped again to a low level, a parody of a tragedian's soliloquy.
"I have studied and struggled for fifty-eight long years, only to come to this lot of ingrates," he said, adding a theatrical sigh and slapping a hand to his brow. "Nobody appreciates my vast talents." Some of the boys smiled, Grimm among them, recognising the new Magemaster's dry humour.
"RUNES!" Kargan shrieked in a mighty voice which made the boys sit bolt upright again. "RUNES ARE THE LANGUAGE OF MAGICAL LORE!"
Some of the Students regarded the Magemaster with wide, fearful eyes after this thundering declamation, but Grimm could recognise play-acting when he saw it; he guessed that Kargan was not in truth the fire-breathing maniac he appeared.
The young Student found Kargan's style of education more entertaining, at least, than that of Magemaster Crohn, not least because Kargan did not seem to share Crohn's scruples with regard to the use of 'Mage Speech'.
"Don't listen to what the other Magemasters may tell you about how important this facet of lore is, or how central that principle is. This is the most vital part of magic. This is magic!"
Panting a little, and flicking grey locks from his eyes, Kargan began to rattle out a swift and complex litany that seemed designed solely to confound the Students.
"Magical runes belong to a one-hundred-and-sixty-three letter alphabet divided into six families, with twenty-seven accents and fifty-two inflections. The runes of each family vary in context depending on order, tone, speed of delivery and cadence.
"A spell consists of a series of runes, chanted with perfect diction and tone. A given rune will link smoothly only to certain others, and only in certain ways. Some runes can't be used to begin or end a spell. An accented rune cannot be used before a joining-rune or after a rising inflection except when preceded by a tonal modifier."
Although Grimm loved books and read all he could, he did not understand most of what the Magemaster had said, and he feared that all Kargan's lessons would be given in this rapid-fire, impenetrable style.
Perhaps the other boys were trained in this sort of language, he thought. Maybe I'll never get the hang of it! He risked a surreptitious glance at the rest of the class, but the blank, stunned expressions of the other Students suggested that they were as confused as he.
"Sounds complicated, doesn't it?" Kargan beamed like a madman. "It is. Yet this is one subject you will have to learn and understand before you take the ring. I did not lie: from the understanding of runes comes the whole panoply of performed magic and sorcery."
Kargan paused to let his words sink in, his head swivelling back and forth like an owl's as he scanned his stunned flock.
"Like music," he said, "if you do not have the ear for it, you may be able to scratch out a few simple spells by rote, but you will never become a spellcaster, any more than a tone-deaf urchin can play for the Gallorley Philharmonia."
A wide, seraphic grin appeared on the mage's face. "So let's see if any of you has a half-way decent ear. You're all going to sing for me!" Kargan's expression suggested that he had just offered the Students some marvellous treat, but some of the boys looked aghast.
What has singing to do with magic? Grimm wondered, and he could tell he was not alone in this thought.
Kargan turned to Madar, sitting at the right hand side of the front bench. "Stand up, boy! What is your name?"
In a tiny voice, the boy stammered, "M-Madar Gaheela, Lord M-Mage."
Kargan nodded, and his own voice reduced in intensity to a bearable level as he said, "Ah, yes; Gaheela. Your father would be Ahad Gaheela, the master trader? In that case, I trust you have inherited his love of music, and even a little of his talent. I heard him playing the violin when I was an honoured guest at last year's New Year Recital in Ayre. It was most moving!"
He regarded the boy with apparent respect, but he did not speak. As the silence became uncomfortable, Madar blurted, "I can play the violin, the vihuela, the trumpet and the dulcimer, Lord Mage. Last year I won a credential as First Cantor in the Preslor Abbey choir."
"EX-cellent!" crowed the strange mage. "Then I am sure you won't have any problem singing this little phrase. Sing it exactly as you hear it, and don't try to interpret it. We're looking for perfection here, Gaheela, not artistic impression."
Kargan produced a silver flute from his robes and played a fluent, liquid ten-second phrase with trills and strange intervals. After clearing his throat, Madar repeated it in a clear, strong voice.
Kargan nodded. "You may sit down, Gaheela, that was quite adequate." Almost as an afterthought, he added, "Almost acceptable, in fact."
Grimm saw Madar stiffen, and he could tell his friend felt affronted. Nonetheless, the red-headed boy sat and said nothing.
Kargan played a different phrase to each boy, each of whom repeated the flute's notes with varying degrees of success. For some of the boys, Kargan had to repeat the phrase several times, each time with growing impatience. To those who performed well, Kargan offered a humorous mock-insult or faint praise, but Grimm could see that they were actually tokens of affection. Boys who had no ear for music were merely thanked and asked to return to their seats, and Kargan made no comment on their lack of musical talent. After half an hour, he reached the boy on Grimm's left. Grimm noticed that Madar turned and offered Argand a friendly but mournful grimace.
"And your name is?"
"Argand Forutia, Lord Mage"
"How's your singing, Forutia?"
"Lord Mage, I don't know. I have never sung."
"WHAT?" Kargan's eyes were wide and his jaw slack. "A boy who has never sung?" The Magemaster's expression suggested that he considered this the worst misfortune that could possibly befall a child.
Shaking his head, the mage seemed to gather his composure once more, and he spoke in a more reasonable tone. "Well, then, Forutia, now is your time to start! Please sing this."
He played another phrase on his flute. The boy took a deep breath and began to sing. Or rather, he began to recite in a rhythmic monotone. His timing was fair, but the single note Argand seemed able to produce hovered achingly distant from any note or interval in any standard musical pitch. Kargan stood aghast. Apparently misinterpreting the Magemaster's expression, Argand began again on a different droning delivery with no greater musical merit than the first.
"Thank you, Forutia. Thank you; that will be quite enough, Forutia! ENOUGH! STOP! DESIST! CEASE!" cried Kargan in ever-growing anguish, as Argand continued to struggle with the phrase.
Poor Argand looked distraught. Granfer Loras had told Grimm of people who never understood singing; that, to them, it had always seemed a rather contrived poetry. Grimm had not quite believed him at the time, but he did now.
Closing his eyes and shuddering for a moment, it seemed that Kargan had decided to take pity on the boy; Argand had obviously tried his best, even if the result had been less than melodious. "Thank you, Forutia," he croaked. "Perhaps your talents lie in other directions. You may sit."
Argand descended to his seat, wiping sweat from his brow as one or two sniggers arose from the anonymous depths of the class. Kargan stamped his foot and glared, his face pale except for a pair of bright red spots on his cheeks. This was no mock-fearsome pretence but a face suffused with true anger. "I will have no laughter in my class at another's misfortune!" he boomed, and Grimm could now tell the difference between Kargan's play-acting and his real emotions.
"I imagine that many of the rest of you have ears little better than our friend Forutia's," the Magemaster hissed. "Let it be known that I detest smugness and self-satisfaction, and I WILL NOT TOLERATE IT IN MY CLASS! I will have RESPECTFUL SILENCE in this class unless I ask for comment! Is that clear?"
Kargan stood with his arms akimbo, a picture of fury. "I asked if that was quite clear," he said in a low, threatening rumble.
"Yes, Lord Mage!" The Students' reflexive response rang out as if uttered by a single voice.
The mage grunted and turned to Grimm, who stood, now feeling a little sheepish at having wanted to cover his ears at Argand's unmusical eruption.
"Name?" snapped Kargan, not yet over his fit of temper.
"I am Grimm Afelnor, Lord Mage." Grimm's voice was almost a whisper.
Kargan raised an eyebrow, but not in disapprobation, and his face brightened at once. "So you are the grandson of Loras Afelnor?" he asked.
"That is my Granfer's name, Lord Mage."
Kargan nodded. "Ah, that man had a splendid voice. I shall be glad if you have but one-tenth of his talent. Do you sing?"
"Yes, Lord Mage. Granfer says I have what he calls a perfect ear."
"Ha!" Kargan snorted. "If I had one copper bit for each time I heard that, I'd be a rich man. Still, if Afelnor approves of your voice, it must at least be of an acceptable quality. Kindly sing this." He played another, different phrase on his flute. Grimm echoed it at once, in a sweet treble. Kargan played a longer, more complicated phrase and again Grimm reproduced it without effort. Then, Kargan asked Grimm to repeat the first phrase without the aid of the flute. Half way through the phrase, Argand joined in with the flute, and seemed well pleased to find the two sounds in perfect agreement.
He spent the next few minutes setting vocal tests and traps for Grimm, but the boy negotiated these with ease. He loved music almost as much as he loved literature, and this seemed more like pleasure than work.
Kargan gave a satisfied smile and spoke in a more gentle voice than usual, as if he feared that Grimm's ears might be damaged by his usual stentorian delivery. "A perfect ear, indeed," he said, "with a voice to match. Precious tools, Afelnor, precious tools they are, and all too rare; take care of both. They will be of great aid in your appreciation and application of magic. You may sit."
He turned to the class and adopted another one of his forbidding facial expressions. "Now, if I know boys," he said in a voice that, although only mock-serious, bore an unmistakable undertone of steel. "Some of you will be thinking evil thoughts about young Afelnor, not least because of his charitable status.
"Be grateful for your silken robes, your fine food and your warm cells. Enjoy them; they are your prerogatives of rank, and I for one would never begrudge them. However, Afelnor has something rare and precious that cannot be purchased, cozened or stolen. Allow him the comfort of his talent, and do not think ill of him for it."
He leant forward, clasping his hands in the small of his back, as if to give his words more force. "Should I hear of any spiteful words that might come Afelnor's way because of my praise of his voice, the perpetrator will FEEL THE BACK OF MY BLOODY HAND! I, too, have a good ear; most sensitive, it is. You would be astonished at what I can hear at times!"
His glare swept the room like the beam of a lighthouse, and nobody seemed willing to meet it.
"I am glad that is well understood," Kargan purred. "A little warning: in future, I may expect any of you to sing without notice. So; practice, practice, practice!"
He punctuated the last three words by flexing his knees, so that he looked like a frog about to leap. Kargan was plainly at least a little deranged, and Grimm fought to maintain a stony face at this ludicrous spectacle.
"He's quite mad," Argand muttered.
Grimm nodded. "I know," he whispered, "but I think I like him."
"Then you must be mad, too." Argand tapped his right temple with an extended forefinger.
"Now, the next boy," Kargan roared, returning to his mission. "Your name, boy?"
"Akad Horth, Lord Mage," another Student squeaked, his face beetroot-red, and Grimm could not tell if that was through panic or an overwhelming desire to laugh.
"Well, Horth, let us hear your rendition of this little tune…"
Kargan relentlessly assayed the singing talents of the rest of the class. Some had a poor command of tone, some lacked a sense of cadence and others had weak voices. Some sang very well, and they were given lukewarm compliments, but Kargan seemed careful not to insult or belittle any of the Students.
When all the recitals were finished, Kargan moved to the huge slate at the front of the class and unrolled a scroll with twenty or so strange characters on it, which he attached to the board. Grimm noticed that the scroll duplicated part of the mural around the classroom.
The Magemaster interlaced his fingers and flexed, making his knuckles crackle like gunfire.
"The FIRST RUNE FAMILY!" he boomed. "They are no more or less important than any other rune group, but they are the first that we will study. To begin, you will just learn the names of the runes until they are well-seated in your thick skulls!"
Kargan dabbed his face with a blue handkerchief. He was slightly red in the face and perspiring freely, but he showed no sign of slowing the pace.
"Where was I?" he muttered before continuing. "Ah, yes, the First Rune Family! These twenty-nine basic runes are used for the first spells you will ever master: the Minor Magics. They are also used in most other spells that you will ever encounter. Recite after me: Adzh, Karkh, Tekh, Rukh, Urth…"
By the end of the afternoon, the boys were tired and hoarse with recitation, but Kargan had lost none of his energy and volume. The man seemed indefatigable. When the bell rang, he looked quite disappointed.
Clearing his throat, he said, "Copy these down and learn them well. Tomorrow, I shall expect all of you to recite them by heart and to be able to write them in a fair hand. If you cannot master these runes, I shall be VERY DISPLEASED, and we will carry on until they are known by all!"
Again, Kargan produced his broad, infectious smile, implying that some great fun was in store for the shell-shocked Students.
"It may interest you to know that I have a small pet bird who can recite them all. He is no captive Mage Shapeshifter, I assure you, but a true representative of the avian persuasion! When you have thoroughly absorbed these runes at least as well as my feathered companion, we shall move on to the manner in which these are coupled together to make spell syllables; the basic vocabulary of the craft. Later, we shall consider the written forms of the runes and the methods of joining them into fluid script. Thank you, gentlemen. That will be all."
The boys trooped out of the class, with little conversation, as each looked at his slate. There was much to be done before the morrow. Grimm breathed a deep sigh of relief as he left the room. Kargan was a strange, complex, emotional man, and the boy thought it would take a little while before he became used to the Magemaster's mercurial moods.