Truth and Deception cogd-4

by Alastair J. Archibald

  "You believe yourself very fortunate in your rapid accession to the Seventh Rank, I imagine, Questor Grimm."

  It sounded more like a statement of fact than a question, but Grimm felt obliged to make some response.

  "Yes, indeed, Lord Dominie."

  "I knew your grandfather, you know," Horin said, as if changing the subject. "He was a most potent Questor, and a good companion, too, on the three Quests we faced together. His downfall was a great disappointment to me."

  Where's all this leading? Grim wondered, but he said nothing, since no reply seemed to be required or expected.

  "I was a Fifth Rank Weatherworker at Tattleford House when I heard the news that Questor Loras had been dismissed from the Guild, disgraced and dishonoured. I found it hard to credit that Loras would have acted in that manner, and I still do. What are your thoughts on the matter, Questor Grimm?" The Dominie's piercing blue eyes seemed to bore into Grimm's head, into his very soul.

  The Dragonblaster's thoughts whirled.

  Is he testing me? How much can I tell him of my suspicions? Why is Lord Horin raising this subject now? I thought he was barely aware of my name, let alone my antecedents!

  Still, an answer was necessary. Be careful, Afelnor, he counselled himself. This may be some kind of trap; he may be using the Sight on me.

  "I believe my grandfather meant no harm," he said, struggling with a tongue that seemed unwilling to move. "Nonetheless, the Guild laws are clear in their strictures and cannot be ignored."

  Horin leaned forward, his glare intensifying. "Your real thoughts, please, Brother Mage. I am not trying to trap you or play with you. I want to know what you believe. Feel free to speak your mind; as long as you keep your words within the bounds of Guild decorum, you have my word that whatever you say will go no further."

  Grimm shuffled in his seat, feeling as if an angry horde of fire ants were trying to consume him. He must answer, but how much should he reveal of his suspicion? He could tell the Dominie's true intentions at once with ease by using his Sight, but the taboo against using this on such a senior mage was inculcated in every Guild mage from the day of his joining.

  To Perdition with it! Horin seems to mean what he says. I'll just have to trust him.

  "Lord Horin, I believe that Loras Afelnor was ensorcelled." The words burst from his mouth as if they had a life of their own. "I feel sure he was compelled to act as he did by some external influence."

  He cleared his throat, and Horin motioned him to continue, his face impassive.

  "I believe a powerful Geomantic spell caused him to act as he did, Lord Dominie. I think my grandfather was compelled to attack Prelate Geral by means of witch magic," Grimm said, feeling as if the words were being drawn from him like rusted nails from a plank of wood.

  Well, I've said it now, he thought. There's no going back from here, for good or ill.

  "Since the revelations of last night, I have come to suspect the same thing, young Afelnor," Horin drawled, nodding slowly as he spoke, and Grimm felt a flush of relief that his suspicions had not been dismissed outright as nonsense.

  The Dominie sighed and rubbed his right temple, grimacing as if suffering from a severe headache.

  "Are you well, Lord Dominie?" Grimm inquired. "Shall I call a Healer or Herbalist for you?"

  Horin shook his head. "I did not sleep well last night, Questor Grimm. The ease with which that hideous old harridan was able to defeat my will disturbed me. I may be no Questor, but we Weatherworkers are reckoned third only to Questors and Mentalists in the control of our emotions. It is for this reason that I wished to see you this morning. From what I heard last night, it seems as if you and Prioress Lizaveta have crossed paths before."

  The young Questor hesitated. He felt loath to divulge the details of his infatuation with Madeleine, and his futile confrontation with the Prioress two days before.

  "The full, unvarnished truth, if you please, Brother Mage. Much may depend on it."

  Grimm drew a deep breath. "On my first visit to the Lodge, I was greeted by a young nun of Lizaveta's order, a girl of my own age named Madeleine, Lord Dominie. She was complimentary to me, and she seemed interested in my company for its own sake. I was well aware of the Guild customs concerning amatory entanglements-" customs which I have since flouted, he thought, "-but I found myself unable to care. I felt bewitched, and so I was."

  Horin raised a white eyebrow, nodding for Grimm to continue.

  "In a moment of introspection, I realised that the attraction felt like intoxication, and I invoked the spells resident in my staff to free myself from the effect of the spell. It was as if scales had fallen from my eyes, and I told the girl that I had discovered her deceit. I then went to Prioress Lizaveta and told her I had been ensorcelled by one of her Sisterhood. She assured me that Madeleine would be punished, and dismissed from the Order at once. I took her at her word and considered the matter settled."

  The Dominie leaned forward, his expression intent, but not one of outright condemnation. "You did not think to report this act to anybody else, Questor Grimm?"

  "I thought it a simple matter, no more than a flirtatious young girl's prank, Lord Horin."

  "I would hesitate to use the word 'simple' to describe that situation, young Afelnor!" the senior mage snapped. "A young witch controlling the will of a full Mage Questor can hardly be considered 'simple'!"

  Is this some kind of test?

  "I admit to a certain degree of confusion at the time, Lord Dominie," Grimm confessed.

  Horin gave a curt nod and bade him to continue in a noncommittal monotone.

  Grimm felt a nervous twitch in his right leg and fought to bring it under control before he spoke again.

  "That night," he said with an accompanying sigh, "I… I had a very vivid dream, in which I saw Prioress Lizaveta in the crypts of High Lodge with her acolytes. They…"

  His voice tailed off, and he cleared his throat. The memory disturbed him even more than it had on that night, now that he knew his supposed nightmare had been a vision of reality. He felt hot tears starting at the corners of his eyes, and he wiped them away with a savage sweep of his left hand.

  For several moments, he fought to bring his long-denied emotions under control. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, shaking his head, his breath shuddering and spasmodic. He rocked back and forth in the chair, in an attempt to come to terms with the horror he had witnessed on that night.

  Horin leaned forward in his chair and put his hand on Grimm's knee in an almost fatherly gesture, and his rough voice grew kinder: "Take your time, Questor Grimm; this may be important. We can put Mage Speech aside for a while, if it makes it easier for you. I'm not trying to condemn you or rebuke you; I just wish to know what you know."

  With a final, convulsive jerk, Grimm pushed his conflicting emotions to the back of his mind, as he had been taught. Bringing his breathing under control once more, he nodded.

  "Thank you, Lord Horin. I can continue now," he said. "I was about to impart to you that I saw the Prioress and her acolytes butcher Madeleine's bruised, ravaged corpse and drink her blood in some vile ceremony. At the time, I considered it a ghastly nightmare, and no more than that."

  "As I told you, forget Mage Speech," Horin commanded. "It may cloud the truth on occasion-as, in fact, it is intended to do. Tell me all you can, without elaboration. I gather you don't consider it a dream anymore."

  Grimm smoothed his hair back, although it was not obstructing his vision. Displacement activity, a dispassionate voice in his head said, although he paid it little heed.

  "Thank you, Lord Dominie. No, I don't. Necromancer Numal recently heard my story and told me I'd travelled on the astral plane, that what I saw then was a true vision."

  Horin clasped his hands across his chest and settled back in his seat. "And that's what led you to the crypts last night?"

  The young mage nodded. "It was just as I'd seen it in my vision. Questor Guy found a secret compartment in Lizaveta'
s throne, with scraps of cloth and bones in it. I recognised a piece of violet cloth as being from Madeleine's dress, and I realised Lizaveta's must have gained much of her power through human sacrifice. The blood soaked into the ground beneath the Lodge, linking her to the earth and allowing her to spread her power throughout the building. I used a form of Gathering spell to pull the blood out of the rock, and I used a spell of Dissolution on the throne and its contents…"

  At that moment, Grimm heard a knock on the door and shut his mouth. A fair-haired male servant, perhaps no older than he, entered the room with a large wheeled trolley piled high with delicacies.

  "Thank you, Uru; that looks splendid." Horin smiled, as if the two mages had been doing no more than discussing the weather. Uru bowed, a broad smile on his thin face. "Kindly pass the word to the Senior Doorkeeper that I wish no more interruptions until further notice. That will be all."

  The servant bowed and left, making hardly a sound as he closed the door behind him.

  Horin waited a few moments and turned his gaze back to the young Questor. The older man's eyes looked like twin cannon-mouths, both aimed at him.

  "Where were we, Questor Grimm? Ah, yes, you'd just defeated Lizaveta's plans for suborning your Dominie, and perhaps the entire Guild! May I ask why you didn't choose to bring this 'simple little prank' to somebody's attention at once?"

  It is a bloody test! Oh, well, here we go.

  "I went to see Prioress Lizaveta on the previous night, Dominie, to see if I could sound her out," he confessed. "She became… amorous with me, or so it seemed to me. I pushed her away, and she… she told me there was no point in complaining to you because she was in your favour. I took that to mean she had you under some sort of control, and I thought it better if I took the initiative."

  Horin grunted. "I've heard that about you, Afelnor. Capricious, headstrong and insubordinate: those are just some of the words I've heard used to describe you. I could also add the words impetuous, wilful and obstinate to the list. Is that a fair assessment of your character, Questor Grimm?"

  Grimm felt as if he had been punched in the face. The old man had cajoled him, sympathised with him and led him on, only to slap him down. The young mage knew in his heart that those harsh words had been in, all probability, quoted from Xylox's report on his last Quest.

  Perhaps Horin now regretted the largesse he had shown on the previous night and now sought to redress his error. There would be no seventh ring for him, no cognomen and nothing but censure for his foolish actions over the previous two days. He had tried-how he had tried! — to be a good Guild Mage, but he had failed, in the eyes of the Master of the Guild. Even with the unstinting support of Lord Thorn, a negative report from the Dominie would finish him as a Questor and a mage.

  Damn the old man! Damn them all! The hot feelings that he had tried so hard to suppress bubbled to the surface, and he leapt to his feet in a convulsive movement, all but toppling the table that divided the two magic-users.

  "I can see you've already made your mind up, Lord Dominie! If you can't see that I'm a loyal Guild man, then don't play stupid bloody games with me. I've been threatened with decades-long confinement in the Arnor scullery more times than I can count, so please don't waste your time with me anymore. I've had enough, Lord Horin!"

  He might lose Drexelica, Redeemer, his Barony and his Guild Ring, but he no longer cared, as the hot hormones or rage flooded through his body. He was tired, and he had expected congratulations instead of opprobrium.

  An icy, white-hot shock of horror rose through him, as he realised what he had done in his irritation. Surely the Dominie could not accept such a rebuke from one of his minions!

  "I see those words struck a note with you." Horin remained impassive and unreadable. "Good. Now sit down, you young idiot. I don't normally waste my time with reprobates; I have people to do that for me. I just wanted to see your reaction."

  Despite the Dominie's quiet voice, the force of his delivery seemed to drive Grimm back into his chair. Embarrassment washed over him as he sat back down, and the words of his foolish outburst reverberated within his skull. He slumped into the deep leather folds of the chair and bowed his head.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid! was all that came into his head, as he closed his eyes and waited for Horin's sentence upon him.

  "Xylox is a good judge of human character, if a little harsh on occasion," the Master of the Guild intoned. "Will you tell me he's wrong in his assessment of your character, Questor Grimm?"

  The Questor shook his head. His mouth seemed unwilling to obey his commands.

  "Excellent!" the Dominie said. "You may be just the man I need! I know from your actions last night that you are a loyal Guild man, but I wanted to see that you were also not some mindless automaton. Are you willing to help me?"

  Grimm could do no more than nod.

  What's he playing at?

  "This kedgeree is delicious, Questor Grimm. May I help you to some? Come, eat; you need to get some meat on those bones of yours. We'll discuss what I have in mind later. Eat, I say!"

  The rest of the meal passed in a blur. All Grimm knew was that the Dominie had subjected him to a test, and that he had, somehow, passed it. If he ate or not, he did not know, but he did know that his reckless explosion had been, in some manner, acceptable to Horin. He had no appetite for food, but he hungered to know what the old man had in store for him.

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  Chapter 18: Trust

  Grimm sat in silence and watched as the Dominie worked his way through a mountain of food: kedgeree, poached eggs and whole lambs' kidneys, amongst other things. Horin seemed a single-minded man; he said nothing during the meal, his attention focused on the task at hand.

  At last, the Master of the Guild pushed his plate aside and smothered a nascent eructation.

  "Why, Questor Grimm, you don't seem to have eaten a thing! Breakfast is an important meal, especially for growing youths. I insist you try something."

  "Lord Dominie, you mentioned that you might require my help. That is more interesting and important to me than food, at this time."

  Horin chuckled and dabbed his lips with a white silk napkin. "Ah, the impetuosity and impatience of the young!"

  He put the napkin on his plate and sat back in his comfortable armchair. "Very well, young Questor, I'll tell you, but only after you answer a question of mine: is there any aspect of your visit that you're not telling me? I can tell you're still hiding something from me. I need to be able to trust you without hesitation, if I'm to make use of you as I require."

  Grimm felt sure that Horin had already used the Sight on him on several occasions during their meeting; he could not believe that the Dominie would be prepared to entrust a callow, unknown youth with secret information otherwise. He felt the fires of curiosity flicker in his stomach, as he yearned to hear what the older mage wished to propose. Nonetheless, conflict raged inside his head.

  Lord Thorn told me not to reveal this Quest to anybody, including the Presidium.

  But that was because he already knew Lizaveta's Order was under Horin's protection! The Dominie knows all about the Sisters of Divine Mercy now.

  No. Lord Thorn placed his trust in me. It's not for me to question his orders.

  Despite his interest in Horin's proposal, whatever it might be, Grimm felt he could not disobey the Prelate's strict, direct order with impunity.

  He took a deep breath, resolving to be true to his word. "I'm sorry, Lord Horin. I can't tell you."

  "What?" the senior mage expostulated.

  "Lord Dominie, if I may quote Rule 17.8: 'No Senior may come between a Junior and his conscience'. This matter concerns my conscience, Lord Horin."

  Horin leapt from his seat, vibrating with annoyance. "Don't quote Guild rules at me, you insolent young whelp!" he shouted, wagging a finger at Grimm. "I'll mention another, Rule 4.7: 'In all matters of Guild security, the Dominie's word is law, and may supersede other rules and regulations, as the Dom
inie sees fit'! How does that sit with your lawyerly compunctions?"

  Grimm felt a new shock coursing through his spine, but he said nothing.

  Horin sighed and sat back down, brushing a few wayward strands of hair from his eyes. "I could have a pair of Seventh Rank Mentalists in here in a few moments, and I could make you tell me. But I won't do that. I want you to tell me of your own free will."

  His eyes locked on Grimm's. "Trust me, Brother Mage; I wouldn't be asking you if it weren't important. I'm not playing puerile games with you. I need to be able to trust you implicitly."

  Grimm licked his dry lips. Horin had placed a heavy burden upon him. Should he tell of his mission and flout his sworn word to Thorn, or should he make an enemy of the most powerful man in the Guild? He rubbed his temples, which had begun to pulse like some metronome of discomfort.

  Trust; such a small, simple word it was, yet so significant and weighty. After wrestling with his conscience, he decided that Thorn's admonition must have been superseded by his earlier revelations… perhaps.

  "Dominie," he said, still troubled by his shaky reasoning, "I told Lord Thorn of my suspicions after Necromancer Numal convinced me of the truth of my vision when I was last here. Lord Thorn told me he had long suspected Lizaveta's Order of skulduggery within High Lodge. I was to gather information and evidence about Lizaveta's actions, and to report back to him alone, without alerting anybody within the Lodge."

  "Interesting," Horin said in a soft voice. "I should have thought that Lord Thorn would have alerted me first, if he suspected undue interference in Guild affairs."

  "Perhaps he already believed that you'd been… affected, Lord Dominie."

  Horin sat a moment in silent contemplation before speaking again.

  "Questor Grimm: will you agree to submit to the use of a spell of Divination? I admit I have used Mage Sight on you before; that may be a breach of Guild protocol, but my needs are great, and I alone have that right. However, the technique is severely limited, and I want to put you to a more searching inquisition before I divulge any further information."