Mentalist, Bronin Wearth, called the Mindmaster, after thirty years of staunch service. He has always been a dedicated, trustworthy servant of the Guild, and his resignation is most out of character for this dependable and loyal mage.
I see from the records of other Houses that at least five other such occurrences, all equally puzzling, have taken place in the last two months. The only common factor seems to be that all of these mages have resigned after visiting the newly dedicated House at the foot of the Shest Mountains, and that nothing more has been heard of them since. All of the mages who have resigned were either Mentalists or Illusionists; in other words, manipulators of the mind. I am concerned that the mages may be setting up some clandestine activity in opposition to us; there must be some reason for this silence.
Many Prelates are convinced that nothing sinister pertains to these events, but I am persuaded otherwise. I wish to invoke a formal Quest to investigate these disappearances, and I need the assistance of a Prelate whom I can trust implicitly to implement it; of course, given the apparent risks involved in this undertaking, it will not be held against you should you refuse.
Thorn had no intention of refusing such an opportunity, but he made as much of the moment as he could, in order to maximise Dominie Horin's gratitude at his eventual acceptance.
Lord Dominie, I feel indeed gratified by your confidence in Arnor House. However, I am sure that you realise only too well that our resources at this time are limited. We have three Questors available for the service of our Guild, dedicated men who are all eager to serve, but the Quest you have outlined does place great demands upon the House.
Thorn waited a few moments before continuing, giving the impression that he was in deep cogitation.
Very well, Lord Domini, he continued, the needs of the Guild must come before those of an individual House; you may rely on me. I will despatch a pair of Questors to the region of Shest at once. We will get to the bottom of this worrying mystery as soon as possible.
Thank you, Lord Thorn, Horin responded. I have, of course, the greatest faith in you. I will leave the resolution of the issue entirely to you. I would like to clarify one thing: should these mages be engaged in some clandestine enterprise contrary to the aims of the Guild, I authorise your Questors to take whatever action is necessary to settle the matter, up to and including vital termination of any renegade magic-users.
Thorn started. You will give us carte blanche to execute Guild brethren, Lord Dominie? He felt shocked; such explicit permission was rare, and the idea of the ruthless execution of a group of Guild Mages was distasteful even to the hard-nosed Prelate.
Only if they are shown to be acting against our interests, you understand, Prelate Thorn. If they have been somehow abducted or duped, then they must be rescued.
I understand, Lord Dominie. You may rely on Arnor House to provide a speedy and efficient resolution of your concerns, one way or the other.
Xylox Ceras, Mage Questor of the Seventh Rank, called 'The Mighty' was no libertarian. Despite the considerable wealth he had accrued over twenty years of Quests, he habitually wore simple woollen robes in grey, black or brown; his tastes were starkly ascetic. In truth, Xylox was a miser, but he regarded himself as an upholder of prudent frugality.
He felt, therefore, more than a little displeased when he laid eyes upon his fellow Questor, Grimm Afelnor. The young man wore extravagant, brightly coloured silk robes, and Xylox thought he could smell pomade and perfumed soap on the Questor's hair and skin.
Xylox the Mighty believed that a mage, particularly a Questor, should always project an air of austere gravity, and he had worked hard to achieve this throughout his life as a Guild Mage. As the senior active Questor of Arnor House-since old Olaf Demonscourge was almost in his dotage-Xylox sought to surround himself with a stern aura of mystery.
'Questor Xylox, I am Questor Grimm Afelnor,' the young fop said, rising from his seat and extending his hand. 'I feel honoured to make your acquaintance at last. I have read much of your exploits in the Deeds of the Questors.'
Xylox frowned: this Grimm must be at least four inches taller than he, and slender with it; this was another black mark against Questor Grimm, as far as he was concerned.
However, Xylox was a Guild man, first and last: he automatically took the proffered hand and shook it.
'Greetings, Questor Grimm,' he said in a cool voice. 'You are aware that we are to Quest together; I understand that Lord Thorn deigned to brief you in person.' Xylox's tone was polite, but cold and distant; the older mage believed Lord Thorn should have trusted him to brief this young popinjay.
The young man nodded. 'I am looking forward to it, Questor Xylox. I am still relatively inexperienced, and I yearn for a chance to prove myself as a Questor.'
At least this Afelnor sounds keen enough, the Mighty thought. He cast an eye at Grimm's staff, noting with some disbelief the five rings of gold adorning its head. Perhaps the boy was older than he looked.
'Have you no cognomen, Questor Grimm?' he asked, frowning. 'I was granted the sobriquet 'The Mighty' after my eleventh Quest, at the age of twenty-seven. Until that time, I was a Questor of the Third Rank, only reaching the Fifth Rank after my cognomen was ratified by High Lodge.'
This Grimm's face seemed to twist in embarrassment. 'In truth, Questor Xylox, I have only been on three Quests since my Acclamation. Two of them took place after I had acceded to the Fifth Rank.'
A delicate shade of purple suffused Xylox's ruddy features. 'You reached the Fifth Rank after a single Quest?' he almost shrieked. 'What did you do? Did you save Lord Dominie Horin's life, or prevent High Lodge from falling? Or do you have relatives at High Lodge?'
'I had the… good fortune to be called before the Dominie when he was distracted and overworked,' Questor Grimm confessed. 'He did not check my staff; in fact, he barely looked at me at all. He just pronounced me a Fifth Rank Mage, and Questor Dalquist and I were hustled out of the room.'
Xylox shook with anger. 'Why did you not tell the Dominie there had been an error? Bah, those rings on your staff are just a sham! I think this an utter disgrace. You will find to your cost that Xylox the Mighty does not tolerate dishonesty.'
The foppish young man stepped close to Xylox and looked him full in the face, his lids narrowed, his dark eyes blazing. Xylox felt a little uncomfortable that he had to look up to meet his gaze.
'Questor Xylox, if you are determined to dislike me then there is very little that I can do about it,' the jumped- up urchin drawled. 'However, will you look me in the eye and tell me that every one of your glorious victories told in the 'Deeds' was merited and without even a little embroidery? Are you trying to belittle me, to put me in what you see as my proper place? If so, I am not impressed.
'Like all Questors, you must have come here a pauper, just as I did. You went through the agonies of the Questor's Ordeal, just as I did. And you have a hole in your arse, just as I do.'
Xylox snorted in outrage. 'Why, you disrespectful little upstart!' he hissed. 'Is this how you have been taught to address your elders and betters? If so, standards in the Scholasticate must have slipped considerably since my day!'
'That you are older than me, I can see,' Questor Grimm said. 'That you are my better, I would need to see demonstrated before I could pronounce judgement. I am fully prepared to give you all the respect your high stature deserves, but I refuse to stand here to be belittled just because somebody has an inflated opinion of himself.'
The older man found himself dumbstruck at the young Questor's effrontery, and he felt for a moment as if his eyes would explode from his head like miniature cannonballs, but he calmed down at last, recognising a certain humour in the situation.
He, Xylox the Mighty, prided himself above all on plain speaking, with no frills. Here he was, being confronted by somebody employing his own kind of language against him.
This young Questor might be a preening popinjay, but at least he had the strength and self-confidence to stand up to Xylox. The senior mage could not ever see himself becoming Questor Grimm's friend, but he could see how the young man might be a useful companion, provided that he remembered just who the senior mage was.
