Weapon of the Guild [The Chronicles of Grimm Dragonblaster, Book 2] (2 page)

Dalquist leaned forward, his blood quickening.

"Have you ever met Prelate Zhar of Brelor House?” Thorn asked.

Dalquist shook his head, tension tightening his throat.

"Lord Zhar
states
that he wished to give Lord Dominie Horin a special gift to mark his accession to the apex of the Guild. He ordered the construction of a charm he dubbed the ‘Eye of Myrrn', after the seventh-age seer. This gem was
supposedly
intended to allow Lord Horin oversight of all of the Guild Houses at all times. It permits the user to focus on any location or individual of whom he has knowledge." Dalquist suppressed a smile at the stressed words, ‘states’ and ‘supposedly'; Lord Thorn, it seemed, did not believe his fellow Prelate's stated intentions.

"Brelor House recently played host to a deputation from the city of Crar,” Thorn continued, “headed by one Baron Starmor. Zhar is unclear about what happened, but the Eye was found to be missing after the visit. It now transpires that this Starmor is a powerful magic-user who is not allied to our Guild." Dalquist gaped. “I take it this gem would allow Baron Starmor to spy on the Guild itself, Lord Prelate?"

"Exactly, Questor Dalquist!” Thorn banged his fist on the desk for emphasis. “The consequences of this theft could be incalculable. We need the Eye of Myrrn returned to High Lodge without delay. Lord Horin demands the gem be retrieved or, at least, destroyed without delay. He gave me his personal order to see that his instructions are carried out. I feel sure I do not need to tell you how privileged we are that Lord Horin selected our House for the honour of undertaking this vital Quest." Dalquist nodded. “Indeed, Lord Prelate,” he said, smiling. “I thank you for giving me the honour of leading it."

Thorn shrugged. “I must admit, Questor Dalquist, I would have preferred Xylox the Mighty to take on such a responsibility. However, he is indisposed after his previous Quest and must rest."
Well, that's candid enough
, Dalquist thought, but his joy at being given a chance to show his mettle eclipsed any indignation he might otherwise have felt.

"I should like to take several House Mages with me, Lord Prelate,” he said, “and also some local men-at-arms. If—"

"Impossible, I am afraid,” Thorn interrupted with a shake of his head. “We have no idea what defences Baron Starmor may command. Crar is a walled city with battlements and turrets. A large force would surely be spotted far from Crar. Lord Horin believes a covert operation by the smallest number would be best. You have shown yourself adept at such clandestine operations in the past." Dalquist gaped. “You said Baron Starmor is a powerful magic-user, Lord Prelate,” he expostulated.

“Am I expected to enter his demesnes alone?"

The Prelate snorted. “Starmor may be a sorcerer of some repute among the ignorant, Questor Dalquist, but he is no Guild Mage. Could it be that a Mage Questor of the Seventh Rank is afraid of a mere dilettante?"

Dalquist felt his face redden, but he kept his tone civil. “I am only anxious for the success of the Quest, Lord Prelate,” he said. “In an unknown city with unknown defences I might be taken by surprise. I cannot countenance entering Crar without some magical assistance and without armed support. A thief might also be of use, to spot non-magical traps and to pick locks."

"Very well, Questor Dalquist,” Thorn said after a long pause. “You may select one other mage of this House to accompany you, and one or two Seculars. The responsibility for selecting the Seculars will be up to you and no House funds will be disbursed for their payment. You will need to settle their accounts from your own money or from the monetary proceeds of the Quest. You are not, under any circumstances to discuss the purpose of this expedition with anyone inside or outside the House, except for your chosen companions. You are to swear them to the strictest secrecy, using magic to compel compliance if necessary."

Dalquist suppressed a groan. He had expected that such an important expedition would offer proportionate rewards. He had garnered little wealth from most of his Quests, since the chance to acquire booty had been small, and the Guild had taken most of what little he had managed to obtain. Thorn twisted his mouth a little in what the Questor took to be a smile. “Lord Horin is not without generosity, Questor Dalquist. Although he wants this embarrassing loss kept secret, the Dominie has granted Arnor House a loan of one thousand gold pieces. The official purpose of this loan is to allow the refurbishment of the House Refectory, but a regrettable accounting error has resulted in its misplacement."

The Prelate placed a bulging money-bag on the table with a weighty thump, and Dalquist smiled in relief. As he reached out his right hand to take it, Thorn raised an admonitory finger, and the Questor stopped in mid-grab.

"You are to account for every penny of this money,” intoned the senior mage. “I suppose we can allow perhaps three hundred to go astray for your trouble, but it will all need to be returned
eventually
. However, the Dominie has stipulated that the Guild will place no levy on any booty you gain from the Quest. That includes any magical items you may acquire on your way, with the exception of the Eye of Myrrn. I have agreed to do the same."

Dalquist stared, his hand still stretched out over the table. Magical items were expensive and coveted by all mages. In addition to a monetary tithe, High Lodge demanded the right to retain any unusual or powerful magical weapons, scrolls or charms found by its representatives abroad. A mage's House Prelate often took a further levy when High Lodge had taken their fill, and Lord Thorn was no different.

"I trust you understand that these terms are indeed generous and unlikely to be repeated,” Thorn intoned.

Dalquist stammered his appreciation. Although he might gain little wealth from the Quest, what little he did manage to garner would be his. Although thievery from ordinary citizens and other mages was proscribed by Guild Law and subject to summary execution, a man such as Baron Starmor was regarded as an enemy of the Guild. To steal from such a man was condoned and even encouraged.

"Which mage will you take with you, Questor Dalquist? I should prefer you to leave the ranks of the Magemasters undisturbed."

Dalquist did not stop to think for a moment. “I should like to invite Grimm Afelnor to accompany me,”

he said. “I know how eager he is to prove his worth, and this will be a good first test for him." Thorn nodded. “An excellent idea, Questor Dalquist. If Questor Grimm performs well, he will be entitled to place the first ring on his staff. He will then be a Questor of the First Rank in fact as well as title. Let us get him blooded.

"Now; when can you be ready to leave? Time is of the essence." Dalquist replied, “I will need to spend some time in the Library researching the lie of the land, Lord Prelate. However, I expect to be ready to leave at first light tomorrow. I intend to spend a little time in the town of Drute to select the Seculars I require. I have Quested in that region before, and I have at least one particular man in mind.

"With your permission, Lord Thorn, I will leave now to acquaint Questor Grimm with the details of the Quest. I will then embark on my research."

"God speed, Questor Dalquist, and good hunting."

* * * *

Prelate Thorn stared at the scrying-crystal before him, his hands like pink crabs crawling over its glowing green surface.

Mother, are you there?

The unpleasant, dry crackle of the voice of Thorn's mother, Lizaveta, flickered in his head.
Of course I am here, Thorn. Where else would I be, idiot?

Thorn hated his mother's interference in his life, and he hoped his news would mollify her insensate demands for a while. She was determined that her despised son should become the next Dominie of the Guild, whether he wanted to or not, and a successful Quest of such importance would go a long way towards raising his profile. That pompous old fool, Horin, would not last forever, and, if Thorn could only get close enough, he might even be able to assist him in his passage to eternal glory. If that did not satisfy Lizaveta, he did not know what would. The Prelate had no conception of why his mother took such interest in the affairs of a son whom she professed to despise. However, despite possessing the indomitable will of a Seventh Rank Questor, he felt unable to ignore or disobey her.
Mother, I have good news,
he began, using the green gem to transmit his thoughts to Lizaveta's sensorium as words
. That fat upstart, Prelate Zhar, has made a mistake at last, and his currency
with the Guild is at a low ebb. He manufactured—

I know all about the Eye, you fool! I have magic at my disposal you Guild Mages cannot imagine.
Who do you think advised Starmor how to acquire the gem? I knew you would be able to jump
into the breach at a moment's notice. This is all of my planning. Of course, I ensured you would be
given the authority for the Quest. I have some little influence over your revered Dominie, and he
listens to me.

Thorn felt deflated. He had wanted to impress Lizaveta with his resourcefulness at taking advantage of Zhar's loss. As it was, he had, once again, been manipulated by her for her own purposes.
I am sending Dalquist Rufior and Grimm Afelnor. It will be a good asset to the House to have
another full-blooded Questor at its disposal
. Thorn thought it best to maintain the appearance of insouciance.

It will indeed be a good test for the Afelnor boy. Even I respect Starmor's powers. This will be a
good test; a gamble, yes, for you could well lose a pair of Questors, but the rewards for success
should include consideration for your accession to the Guild Presidium.
I could lose a pair of Questors?
Thorn exploded.
Surely this Starmor cannot be that potent? He has
no Questor magic, I am sure. My spies would have told me.

He is indeed no Questor
, the Prioress hissed
, but his magic is of a type unknown to you. I hope
Afelnor is as strong as his grandfather, or I might lose the opportunity of meeting him. I told you
how I might pay a call upon Grimm Afelnor when he was older. I am sure I shall be interested in
him more than a little if he survives this Quest.

Thorn was not sure if his mother was joking or not.

Grimm Afelnor sat cross-legged on his bed with his eyes shut, trying to meditate. He focused on the mental image of a peaceful grove of trees, through which ran a clear, bubbling stream. Although he found meditation irksome at times, the young mage knew the ability to envisage images and abstruse concepts on demand was a cornerstone of a Questor's ability. Where most mages required pre-prepared scrolls and painfully-memorised chants to cast their narrow range of spells, a Questor was limited only by his ability to visualise what needed to be achieved.

Questors were informally known as ‘Weapons of the Guild', mages capable of wreaking terrible destruction through a simple effort of will. A Questor's magical will expressed itself not through a perfect, rigid, unchanging chant, but through his personal thought-language, a confusion of syllables unintelligible to anyone but himself. In order to be an effective weapon, a Questor must think quickly and with instant clarity. A second's delay might result in an inglorious demise at the end of a simple blade or an arrow. Grimm concentrated on the trees, trying to see every branch, every leaf and every blossom. As he became absorbed in the tranquil scene, he felt his worries begin to melt away. Now he could hear cheerful birdsong and the fluid muttering of the stream.

Let's see if I can summon up some fish...

Somewhere in the distance, Grimm heard a sharp, rapping sound, but he tried to ignore it, concentrating on the creation of a shoal of leaping, iridescent fish. Then, the sound became too loud to ignore, and the fantasy scene dissolved in confusion.

What in the Names’ sake is it now?
he wondered, opening his eyes. Trying to keep his tone civil, he said, “Come in,” although he recognised the note of peevishness in his voice.

The door opened, and Grimm managed a faint smile at the sight of his friend.

"Oh, good morning, Dalquist,” he said with more warmth in his voice than he felt. Grimm knew it was unfair to inflict his inner torment on his fellow Questor. “What is..." His voice faltered to a halt at the sight of the broad grin on the tall man's face, not daring to think what it might portend.

"
We
are needed, Grimm,” Dalquist said, and the young Questor did not fail to note the stress on the pronoun.

"A Quest?” Grimm replied, his voice almost an octave higher than its normal baritone. “Is it a real Quest at last?"

Dalquist nodded, his grin threatening to split his head in two. “It is a Quest,” he said, “and an important one."

Grimm leapt from his bed, feeling his blood surging.

"Do sit down, Dalquist!” he breathed. “Tell me everything!" This time, his enthusiasm was unfeigned, and he hung on his friend's every word as the details of the Quest unfolded.

* * * *

By the time Dalquist had finished, Grimm felt as if he had been reborn. After this, he would be a tyro no longer; he would be a true Questor, entitled to bear at least one gold ring on his staff, Redeemer. The possibilities of death or ignominious failure did not enter his mind for an instant.

"When do we leave, Dalquist?"

"I want to be away at first light tomorrow morning, Grimm. Does that suit you?" Grimm laughed. “Believe me, Dalquist, I'm ready to leave right
now
!" Dalquist shook his head. “I'm afraid I have a few preparations to make first. I advise you to study the route I propose, in case anything should happen to me."

The elder mage placed a package of hand-written notes, maps and scrolls on Grimm's bed. “It's a little sketchy,” he admitted, “but we don't have much time. I seem to remember you have some knowledge of medicinal herbs; a subject I never managed to master. If this Baron Starmor is as powerful a magic-user as Lord Thorn says, we may need some Healing if it should come to a direct confrontation, although that's something I hope to avoid, if at all possible."