The old man tried to adopt a grave, sorcerous tone. "I am the Mage Doorkeeper. You may call me Doorkeeper. Ordinarily, I would advise you to go back down the mountain and seek food and shelter in the town, but I wouldn't leave a dog out in a night like this, let alone a small child like you. A horrible night it is, dear me, yes, a horrible night."

Doorkeeper felt a pang of frustration, as he realised his babbling tongue had betrayed him again, robbing his speech of the grave solemnity he had been trying to project. At least the child did not seem to have noticed his lapse, and so the old mage continued.

"Come with me, lad, and I'll try to find you some food and a bed for the night. We can talk about how you came here in the morning."

"Sir… Doorkeeper, I'm here to learn how to be a wizard. I have a letter for the Chief Wizard from my Granfer, see." The boy held out a wet, sealed package, clutched in a grubby fist.

Doorkeeper felt a little annoyed that the boy, although polite, did not seem cowed in the least by the mage's mighty presence. However, the major-domo took the damp parcel, with some distaste at the slimy feel of its clammy, waxed surface. He was about to slide it into his pocket when he felt a lump in the parcel and a slight, distinctive tingle up his arm. He realised now how the boy had managed to open the door; inside the bundle must be a genuine House ring. He examined the package with more care, and noted the fluent, educated script on its surface:

'Lord Thorn Virias, Mage Questor of the Seventh Rank, called the Iron-willed, Honoured Prelate and Acclaimed Master, Arnor House of the Ancient and Honourable Guild of Magic-users, Sorcerers and Thaumaturges.'

The old mage knew that no mere Secular would be likely to know the Lord Prelate's full, official title, and he looked with new interest at the child. Despite the boy's wretched appearance, his dark, intense eyes seemed to burn with an inner strength that reminded Doorkeeper of someone he had known long ago.