There was a common saying within the Guild, power and presence complete the mage, and the old man knew he had little of either, to his continual chagrin. One of the outward signs of a Guild magic-user's 'presence', apart from his staff and his Guild ring, was 'Mage Speech'. This was a formal, rigid manner of delivery, without contractions and heavy on polysyllabic verbiage, intended to raise an invisible barrier around the speaking mage, so as to maintain an air of aloofness that demanded respect. From an early age, the Magemasters in the Scholasticate hammered into each House Student the need to adopt this mode of speech when on official House business and when dealing with Seculars such as tradesmen, but Doorkeeper never seemed to have found the knack. Despite his best efforts, he always ended up repeating himself, stammering, or lapsing into vernacular speech.

The ancient mage had few formal duties, but he regarded each of his obligations as essential for the smooth running of the House. Among these was the responsibility to be on hand to welcome any mage returning home after leave of absence, and Doorkeeper regarded this responsibility as paramount.

The heavy, black oak door that led to the Great Hall had neither handle nor lock, but it swung open at the merest touch of anyone bearing a Guild ring. Whenever a member of the House approached the portal, a soft chime sounded in Doorkeeper's chamber, enabling him always to be ready to greet a returning member of what he regarded as his true family.

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

Doorkeeper felt his eyelids growing heavy. He gave a deep yawn and stretched luxuriantly, to the almost musical accompaniment of protesting joints.

Nobody's going to be travelling tonight in this weather, thought the major-domo. Best I have an early night, so I can be ready for tomorrow.