If the truth be told, Crohn and Dalquist have done me a service, Thorn thought. I might have died if they hadn't barged in like that.
That Grimm had fought back with such strength, despite being unaware of the spell on him, was impressive. Thorn desired more than ever to gain personal control of Questor Grimm's potent capabilities; however, he acknowledged that he was unlikely to achieve this by a direct conflict of wills.
The Prelate still hoped that Afelnor would uncover irrefutable evidence of Lizaveta's influence within High Lodge, but he could no longer assume that the boy would take action on his own initiative to protect his Guild. That was what he had been hoping, that Questor Grimm would feel such wrath at the threat to his beloved Guild that he might try to destroy Lizaveta without being told to do so. It had all seemed so likely, two days ago, that Thorn would achieve his goal of 'plausible deniability' . If Afelnor had failed or been discovered, he could not deny that he had acted without orders, and Thorn would have released his Compulsion spell by that time.
Now, such a happy conclusion seemed improbable.
The Prelate looked around the shambles of his room with distaste. He would need to order Doorkeeper to get all this mess cleaned up, and a bath, some food and sleep were now urgent needs, in that order.
In the morning, he would consider just how he would ‘reward’ Crohn and Dalquist for their faithlessness.
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Chapter 12: Confessions
Sick with worry, Grimm followed the green trace of his borrowed Location Gem to find his way to his assigned chamber. Instead of entering, he knocked on the next door: that of Necromancer Numal.
"Come in."
Numal's tone seemed cordial enough. Grimm hoped the mage had overcome his earlier ill-humour, and he opened the door. However, he was soon disabused of this idea; Numal, who had been lying atop his bed, reading, sat bolt upright.
"What do you want?"
"Numal, please listen,” Grimm begged. “I know now that I have been labouring under a spell of Compulsion for the last couple of days: a spell to make me more subservient to our lords and masters. I have a pretty good idea of who cast it on me, but he seems to have given up now. My mind is my own again, and I beg you to reconsider your decision to leave. I need you."
Numal rolled his eyes. “You don't learn, do you, Grimm? I told you before: I'm not about to put a blot on my career, before it's even started, by some illicit liaison. Even if I wanted to, which, I can assure you, I don't."
Grimm, despite his intention to be conciliatory to the Necromancer, bridled. “This is the last time I'll tell you, Numal: I don't want any kind of amatory relationship with you or any other man! Just get that idea out of your head, will you?
"I do need you, but only in your professional capacity as a Necromancer. I may have made a dreadful mistake, and I need your help! Of course, you're quite within your rights to refuse, and I wouldn't blame you if you did, but I'd rather you considered my request in a sensible manner before throwing it back in my face."
Numal opened his mouth again, as if to deliver a stinging rebuke, but he shut it again without speaking.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and faced the Questor.
"Speak, then.” The Necromancer's tone was still far from amicable.
Grimm shut the door behind him. “I'm ... I'm on a secret mission for Lord Thorn. I believe that undue forces may be acting upon Lord Dominie Horin. Regardless of the fact that Xy ... rather, that I've been labouring under a Compulsion for the last two days, I still believe this, and Lord Thorn has instructed me to gather what information I can, before my return. After you left the bar, I had the great idea of confronting the person I suspect of orchestrating the whole thing. In retrospect, this was stupid, but I think the drink had far more effect on me than I expected."
Grimm swept a hand through his hair, screwing his face up in angry frustration. “I was so damned stupid!
"
Numal sat with his arms entwined across his chest. He did not appear moved in the least.
"Well, it's an interesting tale, Questor Grimm, and I hope you can resolve your little conflict, one way or the other. But I don't see why I should indulge your fantasies any longer. Hunt your little demons as you will, but leave me out of it. Please shut the door on your way out."
Grimm opened his mouth to launch an irate tirade, but he managed to stop himself; haranguing Numal again would be counter-productive. He had been acting on impulse and reflex for the past two days, and it was time to use the self-control for which Questors were noted. He took several deep breaths and steadied himself.
"Very well, Numal; if you want me to go, I'll go. But I'd like to point one thing out to you: I'm pretty certain I could make you do almost anything I wanted you to. We Questors have magical abilities you couldn't begin to imagine. Nonetheless, I haven't done that."
"That's very generous of you, Questor Grimm. Is that all you have to say?"
Grimm swallowed and closed his eyes again.
Focus, Afelnor!
Grimm had fed Numal titbits of information, in the hope that the Necromancer would go along with him on that basis. However, the moody, quick-tempered mage did not seem to respond well to hints and innuendo. Despite Lord Thorn's injunction to retain secrecy at all costs, Grimm needed the mage on his side, and he needed to stay calm. As the senior, indeed, the only, Questor present, with no immediate means of contact with the House, he had to make a decision. He had to consider the Dominie compromised, so he would have to act on his own initiative.
While Numal looked on, wearing a cool smile, Grimm lowered himself into a chair and considered his options.
He might attempt to assassinate Prioress Lizaveta but, as she had said, the act might lead to his own death. He could try to present his suspicions to Lord Horin but, if the Dominie was really under the witch's spell, this might avail him nothing. Of course, the Prioress might have been playing some unfathomable game with him, although he doubted it; he remembered, only too well, the clarity of the dream that Numal had told him was a valid astral projection ... yes, that was the lever to use with this hot-tempered man!
"Numal, were you lying to me when you told me I had travelled in the astral plane?"
"I was not!” snapped the Necromancer, rising to his feet, his face a crimson mask of outrage. “Are you daring to brand me a liar now?"
Before Numal could say more, Grimm screamed, “I had that dream when I was last here! I saw the crypts below High Lodge, and I saw the body of a girl being butchered and eaten by the very order I now seek to destroy.
"Tell me now that I imagined it: the dream you told me was proof of my astral projection! Your very words convinced me that what I saw was real. If you now wish to call me a liar, I invite you to use your Mage Sight on me. I'm telling the truth: there is a grave threat to our Order. Yes, I am upset, but I think I have every right to be."
Now, it was Numal who seemed on the defensive, his face etched with horror and disgust. “I spoke the truth; I swear it, Questor Grimm! You never told me any details of your dream. Did you really see scenes of cannibalism, right here in High Lodge?"
Grimm nodded. “All I have is the memory of that awful dream, and I don't think that alone will serve as evidence for Lord Thorn. Yet that was what I saw, and my recent, rash actions have done nothing to shake my conviction that what I saw was real."
Numal seemed to slump into a shapeless mass, like a snowman melting in the spring sun. “What do you want, Questor Grimm?” His voice was resigned, although Grimm could tell that Numal was still not quite convinced of his veracity, or even of his sanity. Nonetheless, at least he seemed a little rattled.
"I want you to accompany me to the crypts underneath the Lodge.” Grimm locked his gaze upon Numal's eyes. “Our Location Gems won't be much use down there, but I'm pretty sure I'll be able to find the right place. When we get there, I want you to scan my aura, and tell me if that's where I went on my astral voyage
. Then I'd like you to tell me if there are any signs of the depredations that I saw in my
‘dream'."
Numal shuffled on his bed; he looked ill at ease, if somewhat more compliant than he had been on Grimm's entry to the room.
"All right, Questor Grimm. Suppose I accept your proposition: where does this leave me?"
Grimm smiled. “We take our information to Lord Thorn, and I swear on my Ring that I will say that you acted only on my instruction as the senior mage. All I ask of you is to tell Lord Thorn what you divined from the location."
"All right,” Numal said, and then his face froze. “My, you're a fine friend, aren't you? That's all you ever wanted me here for, isn't it?"
The young mage considered debating this point, but then dropped the idea. He might have been unreasonable after his ensorcelment, but Numal seemed to have forgotten one of the most basic precepts of the Guild: rank hath its privileges.
Perhaps, as a scion of a wealthy family, the old truism had not been drilled as often into Numal as it had into Grimm when he had been a Student.
"It's a tough life, isn't it, Numal? The fact is that I first asked you to come with me as a friend, someone who first showed me that a man could be a loyal House subject, and yet remain a human being. You implied I might be some kind of catamite, and yet you still agreed to come. I have tolerated your accusations, in recognition of my earlier unreasonable actions.
"However, I have now notified you of a direct threat to our Order, and I counsel you to act as a sworn Guild Mage. I would rather have you as a friend than as an enemy, but I'll let you make the decision. If you choose to back out now, I'll let you do so, in the sure knowledge that you lack the courage of your convictions. On the other hand, if you stand by the assertions you made to me in the Refectory the day before yesterday, you are duty bound to do as I ask. You must then accept that I am in charge, and I'll brook no deviation from my orders. It's a simple decision, Numal: are you in or out?"
Grimm pulled himself to his full height, the top of his head a full six inches above Numal's. “If you're out, then run off back home, and prove yourself a coward. Stay with me, and I'll be sure to give you full credit for your stalwart support."
Grimm crossed his arms and glared.
"You make it sound so tempting, Grimm Afelnor,” Numal declared, his mouth twisted. “I suppose if I refuse you, you'll tell Lord Thorn I let you down."
"Not at all, Numal; you have free will to accept or refuse my request. Your only guide will be your conscience. If you refuse, just remember that I'd be more than capable of bending you to my will, if I chose, but I'll stay my hand. I just want you to know that."
Numal hunched his shoulders as if chilled, and he twisted his head from one side to the other. “That's just plain blackmail! You bastard, Grimm Afelnor!"
"Not guilty,” Grimm said, hardly daring to breathe. Without the Necromancer to corroborate his story, he might be unable to prove anything.
At last, Numal spoke again. “What are we up against here?"
Grimm suppressed a sigh of relief. “There is a religious order present at High Lodge: the Sisters of Divine Mercy, whose Prioress is a woman called Lizaveta. She's a witch, and so are at least some of her minions."
"What's wrong with that, Grimm? My cousin, Jennaia, is a witch, and highly valued in her community.
Witchcraft isn't illegal."
" Human sacrifice and cannibalism are,” the Questor snapped back. “As I told you, that's just what I saw during my little night-time jaunt. Lizaveta presided over the whole ghastly ceremony. The Sisters are under the direct protection of Lord Horin, and Lizaveta implied to me earlier that she has some sort of control over him."
Numal sat back on his bed, his expression one of stunned bewilderment, and he whistled. “Questor Grimm, I'm sorry I was so blind to your true motives in asking me to accompany you. If true, this is indeed serious."
"I hope you can forgive me for all my secrecy in this matter, Numal; I was under strict orders from Lord Thorn to keep the mission as clandestine as possible. If it hadn't been for ... my former colleague, and his funny little mind games, things might have gone somewhat smoother than they have."
Numal frowned, and leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees. “Grimm, you said you made a grave mistake. You haven't told this Lizaveta woman what you intend, have you?"
Now, Grimm felt cold fingers of uncertainty caressing his spine. How much could he afford to tell Numal, a man of whom he knew so little? Unless he was willing to open up to the Necromancer, his Quest might be for naught. However, thanks to Grimm's maladroit handling of Lizaveta, the old witch had a lever to use on him: her knowledge of his illicit love, Drexelica. The revelation of that knowledge to Horin, or to Thorn, would break him, and the only way to avoid that was to destroy the Order, or, at least, its influence over the Dominie.
Lizaveta might have been lying to him, of course, but Grimm doubted it.
A firm resolution surged within him: he would allow nothing to come between him and the girl he loved.
He knew he was taking a serious risk, but he knew he must tell Numal the full truth. The greater risk was that the Necromancer might refuse his much-needed aid if he did not see the full picture.
"Numal,” he said, his voice low, “I am about to tell you something I wish to keep strictly between the two of us. You must swear not to reveal a word of what I'm about to tell you to anyone else."
Numal's expression was wary, his eyes hooded. “How can I make such a promise, Grimm, if I don't know what you're going to say?"
The Questor closed his eyes and took a deep breath; this was not going to be easy. He rubbed his beard as if this might inspire him, but it did not.
What to do? Ah, to Perdition with it!
Perhaps if he spoke quickly, the confession might not feel as bad.
"I have a lover, Numal,” he said, “a female lover."
Numal's eyes bulged. “You have a what?"
Grimm nodded. “It's true. I can tell you from ... personal experience that what the Guild tells us about sexual relations between mages and women is a lie, Numal. I'm still as powerful as I ever was."
"Could they break you for it?"
Grimm nodded. “Perhaps. I don't know, but I'll bet the Guild don't want that little secret exposed. They want to keep our minds on our vocations."
Numal spoke in a slow drawl, as if he were measuring each word. “And ... just how much bearing does that have on your 'mistake' ?"
"Quite a lot,” Grimm admitted. “Lizaveta used some Geomantic equivalent of Mage Sight and divined it from my aura, or my mind."
Words tumbled from him like leaves from a windswept autumnal tree. Despite his fears, confiding in someone else made a lot of his stress and anxiety melt away.
"I'm in your hands, Numal,” he said. “The Quest remains as I told you, although I'll admit to a personal stake in its success."
Numal crossed his arms and gazed at the ceiling for several seconds.
"All right, Grimm,” the Necromancer said at last, “I'm willing to pretend you never told me that, and I don't want to know anything more about it. If there are any repercussions from this, I expect you to indemnify me, is that clear?"
"Quite clear, Numal,” the Questor said, relieved beyond measure. “If anybody asks me, you were only motivated by your concern for the security of the Guild. You have my bond on this. Thank you."
"Right,” Numal said, assuming a professional, no-nonsense air. “Do we move tonight?"
Grimm shook his head. “I think it's a little too soon after my little encounter with Lizaveta. We'll go tomorrow night instead."
Numal nodded. “What's the plan?"
"Straight in, straight out, my friend; you sniff out the crypt while I stand guard and, when we've got the information we need, we get out. We say nothing to anybody here, but we both report our findings back to Lord Thorn. I'll need your back-up on that."
"All right, Questor Grimm. Perhap
s this will get me my first ring."
"If I have anything to do with it, Numal, it will. Remember: straight in and straight out."
"It sounds as if it might be fun, Grimm. I'm with you, as long as you don't turn funny on me again."
Grimm laughed, relieving the tension within him. “I think I'm over that now, Numal. With a Sixth Rank Questor at your back, I don't think you'll have anything to worry about."
"Very well, Questor; I'm in. Now, kindly be so good as to make yourself scarce. I want to be sure I'm in top Necromancer form tomorrow night, and I want to be sure you're in full fettle as well. Good night, Grimm."
"Good night, Numal, and thank you."
As he walked to his room, Grimm still felt nervous, but his confidence was growing. He was a full Guild Questor, and on his guard; Lizaveta and her Sisters wouldn't know what had hit them!
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Chapter 13: The Sixth Ring
After his ablutions and his habitual morning exercises, Grimm took a leisurely breakfast in his chamber, savouring each mouthful. The food at Arnor House, or, at least, the food for full mages and paying Students, was of good quality, but the sustenance provided at High Lodge was never less than superb.
With an epicure's dedication, Grimm waded his way through a meal of smoked ham, fresh-baked bread and a succulent kedgeree. The Questor stifled a satisfied belch, despite the fact that there was nobody there to hear him; Magemaster Faffel's lessons in Courtly Graces had made their mark.
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