'Is he charged with anything?'
'Yes,” Horin replied. “Thaumaturgic assault against seven High Lodge officials. Three are in a critical condition, and one is not expected to survive.'
Loras nodded and bowed his head for a moment. “I pray for them all, Lord Dominie. I have faced the boy in Questor combat, and I know well his power. I tried to reason with him, but his only response was ‘I serve only Lord Thorn'.'
'The boy is plainly insane,” Horin agreed, rubbing his chin. “However, that is a poor argument to condemn a member of the Presidium.'
'It is part of a pattern, Lord Dominie,” Loras insisted. “As I understand it from Magemaster Kargan, a Neophyte Questor in Arnor Lodge became insane after three months of training, and he killed the Senior Magemaster.'
'Ah, yes; poor Urel.” Horin sighed. “Alas, in his zeal, he pushed a neurotic Neophyte too far. The Ordeal is severe, but necessarily so, of course, you, as a Questor, must acknowledge that. It seems that Senior Magemaster Urel misjudged his Neophyte's stability.'
Loras shook his head. “After three months of my Ordeal, Lord Dominie, my tutor, Magemaster Karas, criticised my handwriting, the condition of my robes, my tardiness; irksome, yes, but not yet enough to enrage me. Every charity Student often faces worse treatment.
'If angry words were enough to unhinge this boy, surely Magemaster Urel would have noticed long before. I knew Urel as a gentle and understanding soul when he was a Neophyte.'
Horin cleared his throat and shrugged. “Questor Loras, High Lodge has no Scholasticate and no Questors. Although a few Presidium members are Questors, every member of this Conclave comes from a wealthy family.
'Your argument will not sway them one iota. You and they are separated by an immeasurable gulf.'
Loras frowned. “I believe Magemasters Crohn and Kargan, and Questor Dalquist, will swear that Lord Thorn has perverted the Questor Ordeal, so as to produce Questors at a greater rate, regardless of the risk,” he said. “This is so that Arnor House and he, as its representative, can gain greater status within High Lodge.
'Thorn is planning to supplant you, man!'
Horin scowled and picked up his gavel and, for a moment, Loras thought the Dominie would throw it at him. However, the older man drew a deep, shuddering breath and replaced it on the table.
'I am surrounded by people looking for the least sign of weakness in my decisions or actions,” he said. “Few men ascend to the Presidium without such ambitions. Some are hand-picked by me for their devotion to the Guild, but these are few and far between. Much of my time is spent in discovering the intrigues against me, Questor Loras.
'Of course I know Thorn is plotting to overthrow me. The main reason I prefer to act against him now is that he has only now shown his hand.
'I believe what you say, Brother Mage. However, you need to convince the Conclave members, too. Proving that a few pauper Neophytes were maltreated will not do, I promise you.'
Loras groaned, closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, massaging the back of his neck.
I felt so sure I understood Guild politics, he thought, but I forgot the low regard in which charity mages are held; even those of the Seventh Rank. I was foolish to consider Horin as an ally; he seeks to enhance his popularity by destroying a House Prelate-who, after all, is only a damned pauper-and freeing a pair of valuable, wealthy Specialists. How better to show his power and boost his reputation within the Presidium?
I am just a pawn in his game; if it comes to a crisis, I will just be surrendered to ‘justice', as will Questor Dalquist.
Nonetheless, Horin seems to need me to help him. He wants to dethrone Thorn; I must play on that need. It is time to increase the stakes.
He clasped his hands together, opened his eyes and sat up straight in his chair, looking the Dominie straight in the eyes.
'I understand, Lord Dominie; I am just a worthless beggar to the Presidium, and I cannot change that. Why do you not just convict me now, and save time? The Conclave members will surely applaud your decision.'
Horin's eyes narrowed, and his mouth tightened into a thin slit, his lips whitening. For a few moments, Loras felt as if his very life were being weighed in an invisible balance.
Horin sighed. “You try my patience, Questor Loras. I thought, perhaps foolishly, that you had a more potent argument than maltreatment of Neophyte Questors. If this is your sole testimony, it is worthless.'
Loras nodded. “I am in your hands, Lord Dominie.'
Now is the time, he thought, crossing his arms over his chest as the senior mage raised his gavel. If Lord Dominie Horin wants ‘politics', perhaps it is best to give him some.
'Did you enjoy your amorous interlude with the sweet Prioress, Horin?” he asked, smiling.
The gavel wavered in the air.
'What in the Names do you mean, Loras?” Horin demanded, his eyes hooded. “The witch tried to work her wiles on me, and I defeated her. That is all there is to the matter. There was no ‘amorous interlude', as you choose to put it.'
Nonetheless, the gavel did not yet fall.
He is wondering what I have against him, thought Loras, and he worries what the other Conclave members may think of him.
'Let us not play games, Horin,” he said. “I, too, suffered Lizaveta's attentions, when I was much younger and she was still comely. I remember the little touches; the breathless sighs; the fluttering lashes… I needed all my Questor power to resist her. I am sure you know all about that.
'Nonetheless, I would feel forced to relate my own lurid struggles with Lizaveta, were I pressed for evidence. Of course, we Questors, peasants as we are, are renowned for our indomitable internal strength and destructiveness, if for little else. Perhaps you would like to amuse the Conclave by telling them how you defeated Lizaveta. I feel sure your persuasive words as Dominie will sway them far more than my lurid, detailed revelations as a mere Seventh Level Questor would ever do.
'After all, I am only a worthless pauper, am I not?'
Horin placed the gavel back on its little bowl, his eyes hooded Now I have the Dominie's interest at last, Loras thought, and he began to marshal his thoughts.
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Chapter 33: An Indifferent Vintage
'Is this blackmail, Questor Loras?'
Loras shrugged. “If you wish to use such an emotive phrase, Lord Dominie, who am I to argue? Were my fellow defendants and I exonerated, of course…'
Horin lay back in his leather-bound chair, regarding the former Questor with a new wariness. He raised his wineglass to his lips but put it back down, untested.
'Even a little mud sticks, Lord Dominie,” Loras continued, still fixing Horin's gaze and shrugging again. “Even if I am condemned, I have the right to a brief last statement… and I will insist on it, Brother Mage.'
He hesitated for just the right amount of time.
'On the other hand, my dear Lord Horin, you could always call on a few favours and Points of Personal Privilege to assure Lord Thorn's condemnation; nonetheless, I will not be a part of it. As a mere beggar-boy, my word is worthless in the sight of your good friends, is it not?
'However, people are wont to talk, are they not?'
Horin's face turned the colour of parchment, and his eyes bulged.
After a brief pause to allow his words to sink in, Loras continued. “However, perhaps we can come to an agreement more amenable to both of us, Lord Dominie.'
Horin cocked his head on one side, his top lip wrinkled in an expression of distaste. “How… how much do you want, Questor?” he said, curling his top lip.
Loras laughed. “Why do people see money as the answer to all problems?” he asked rhetorically, with a wry
