Doorkeeper excused himself and returned a few minutes later with a plate piled high with food, which the child attacked with gusto. "So how did you travel here, young Grimm, especially on such a foul, horrible night? This place is far from the beaten tracks. Oh yes, very far, a long way indeed, yes."

Grimm swallowed meat pie forcefully; he had been brought up not to talk with a full mouth. "I was sent by my Granfer Loras to be a wizard. Harvel, who works for Granfer, brought me to the bottom of the mountain, but he couldn't get the cart any further up the road. He really wanted to come with me, but the weather then was nice, and the castle was a lot nearer than it really was-I mean, it looked nearer, because it's so big."

"Ah, yes, it is a very large building, and the path is full of lots of tortuous twists," said Doorkeeper, and the serious expression came back across his face.

"Your family name is Afelnor?" Grimm nodded. "And your grandfather's name is Loras? Loras the mage?"

Grimm giggled. "You're teasing me, Doorkeeper! He's not a wizard-he's only a blacksmith. Harvel does most of the work now, because Granfer is getting really old and he creaks when he moves, just like you." Remembering his manners, Grimm swiftly added, "I didn't mean to be rude, Sir Doorkeeper."

Doorkeeper waved a hand dismissively. "I'm sure you meant no insult, Grimm. I am old, as old as the hills, yes, indeed. Are you sure your grandfather has never been anything other than a smith? Can you be sure he was never, ever a mage… even a long time ago?"

Grimm laughed at the thought of his bear-like grandfather in the fine, silken robes of a wizard instead of his habitual dungarees and stained leather forge apron. "He's a very good smith; everybody in the village likes him… except for old Mister Drule, the shepherd, but Granfer says he doesn't even like his own shadow. He's quite a nasty man really; Mister Drule, I mean."