The morning was warm and sunny, with a cloudless blue sky, but the young thaumaturge barely noticed. As Grimm rode up the winding mountain pass to the fortress that was Arnor House, his mind remained focused on his forthcoming meeting with Lord Thorn. On his last Quest, the senior mage, Xylox the Mighty, had promised that his report to the Prelate would be 'on balance, favourable'. However, the older Questor had made little secret of his dislike for Grimm, even if he appeared to respect his junior's resourcefulness and power. All depended on whether Lord Thorn's view coincided with that of Xylox, and the young Questor knew the Prelate's temper to be unpredictable at best.

At the very least, it seemed probable that Grimm would be required to stay at the House for a further period, away from his Barony and his beloved Drexelica. At worst, he might be censured, with a black mark to go on his record, which might blight his Guild career and bar further promotion.

As the black stronghold hove into view, Grimm quashed his anxieties and fears; there was little point in worrying about what he could not change. As he approached the entry portal, he dismounted and hobbled his horse at the wooden rail by the path, and he strode to the door with a determined manner. He raised his ring-bearing left hand and the door swung open to reveal the familiar, bowed figure of the aged major-domo known to all in the House by the simple appellation of Doorkeeper.

"Questor Grimm!" the old man crowed, his face crinkling into a smile. "It is wonderful to have you back where you belong, marvellous, yes, marvellous, indeed."

Grimm knew he truly belonged with Drexelica, but he was not about to say so; even the most innocent relationship with a member of the distaff sex was frowned upon within the Guild.