Second Rank.'
Guy snorted in contempt, turning his back on Numal. 'You can't do a whole lot, can you, old-timer?'
Grimm sighed. 'Numal, we're in a crypt: there are coffins all round the room. If you don't understand what these souls are saying, how do you know for certain you're not hearing their occupants?'
'Please, Grimm, do give me some credit,' the Necromancer snapped, seeming more confident now. 'What I did was to locate and follow the silver cords of those who had either died here, or who had been here shortly after their deaths. I told you about silver cords back at Arnor. The astral plane is a four-dimensional construct stretching through space-time, leaving a trace in every three-dimensional location that the body's been in after death. After a few weeks, the cord snaps back to the soul, and what we call the 'prompt mortal sign' disappears. I wouldn't have been able to find any trace of the owners of these old coffins. The signs I found had to be recent, even if I couldn't understand what the souls were saying. At least five people have died violently here recently, or their bodies were here shortly after they died.'
'It's not much to go on, is it?' Guy said. 'It's hardly a damning, earth-shattering discovery.'
Grimm shook his head. 'Questor Guy's right, Numal. It is a bit thin. Is there anything else you can do?'
The Necromancer scratched his nose. 'Like what?'
'Well, I don't know,' confessed Grimm. 'Can you tell if any of them actually died here, for example?'
'Not with any certainty.'
'You two are about as much use as a sundial in a coal mine,' Guy said. 'I think I'll go back to what I was doing before you barged in. There must be something valuable in here, something Lizaveta wants to keep secret.'
He moved over to the altar and began to examine it in minute detail, presumably hunting for hidden catches or hinges.
'I'm sorry, Grimm,' the hapless Necromancer whispered, but Grimm was no longer listening. Something about what Guy said had begun to buzz in his mind like a restless fly.
'Why here?' he muttered.
'What do you mean, 'why here?'' Guy snorted as he searched. 'She's not likely to start sacrificing people in the middle of the Great Hall, is she?'
Grimm frowned, trying to force understanding from his brain. 'I mean, why right here? It's in the exact geometric centre of the Lodge, as far as I can tell. Any other crypt would do just as well. And why sacrifice people at all?'
The kneeling Guy faced Grimm and rolled his eyes. 'Isn't it obvious, smithy boy? This is the Lodge's innermost crypt, so nobody's likely to find it by accident. As for sacrifices, some of these religious types have weird beliefs.
'You do ask some asinine questions. It's a wonder to me you were ever accepted as a Student, let alone Acclaimed. Please don't hesitate to shove off whenever the fancy takes you.'
With a despairing toss of his head, the older Questor returned to his search.
There was… something I read in one of the Lodge books: something about a 'base of power'. Witches need something to anchor them to a place, so they can draw power from the earth. Localising the field of influence can concentrate it, if there's some deep tie to the area, like a tree, or a monument.
'The location's important, Guy,' Grimm said, his voice burning with intensity. 'It's more than just a nice, secret cubby-hole. This is how she's able to exert her maximum control, and she'd need it if she was trying to influence a powerful mage like Horin. There's more than religious mumbo-jumbo at work here. Geomancy is an art, just like sorcery, and it has its own rules and requirements.'
Guy did not respond, having turned his attention to Lizaveta's throne. 'Aha! Just as I thought!' he crowed, reaching under the lip of the cushioned seat.
Grimm heard a distinct click, as a grinning Guy swung the seat upwards.
'This must be where she keeps her treasure!'
'It looks more like old rags to me, Questor Guy,' Numal said.
Guy stared down at the cavity he had opened, and Grimm saw the Necromancer had been correct in his observation. The older Questor frowned, scrabbling through the scraps of cloth as if hoping to find untold wealth beneath. At last, he stood up, his forehead lined with puzzlement.
'That's all it is: just old rags and bones,' Guy grumbled, letting the fragments fall. 'What in Perdition does the old cow want them for?'
Grimm smiled: he was beginning to think he had the answer.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 15: Triumph
'Why in the world would she want to hide away a heap of worthless junk like this?' Guy railed, tossing a handful of the rags onto the damp flagstones.
'Excuse me, Questor Guy,' Grimm said, pushing past the foppish mage.
'Oh, feel free to hunt for pearls in this pile of garbage for as long as you like,' Guy muttered. 'I'm off.' He sounded to Grimm like a petulant child denied a second slice of his favourite pie.
'Hold on, Guy. Just a few more minutes, please.' He began to search through the pile of rags, inspecting each scrap of cloth in turn.
That's what I was looking for! he thought, eying a fragment of rich, purple velvet. As he picked it up, he felt a sharp thrill run through him, and the name, 'Madeleine', came into his head, unbidden.
With a shock of realisation, he stood upright, holding the violet rag high. 'It's hers. I'm sure of it,' he gasped. 'Madeleine: the girl I saw murdered in my dream. This is just what we need!'
He turned to the Necromancer. 'Can you contact the dead through their possessions, Numal?'
'Not yet,' Numal confessed.
Guy snorted, 'No surprises there.'
'But any Necromancer of the Third Rank, or above, could do it. There's a standard spell for it, although I don't know it yet.'
'This explains everything!' Grimm declared, suffused with satisfaction.
'Oh, good,' Guy said. 'If you'll excuse me, I'll let you carry on with your needlework. Doubtless, you intend to make a patchwork quilt in honour of my sainted grandmother. Enjoy yourselves, and good riddance to you.' He turned on his heel and began to walk away, his staff bobbing behind him.
'This is her power base!' Grimm cried. 'If we destroy that, she's all but powerless within High Lodge. This 'garbage' is what allows her to operate here!'
Guy stopped and stood, although he did not turn around.
'Explain.' For once, his voice seemed free of sarcasm and belittlement.
'Yes, please do, Grimm,' Numal said, his brow as furrowed as a farmer's field.
'This place, this crypt, was chosen for its central location alone, because it allows Lizaveta to spread nodes of power throughout High Lodge,' Grimm said. 'That means she can use her Geomantic magic anywhere inside the building, without being in direct contact with the earth. I should have thought of it before; most witches prefer to conduct their spells in the open, preferring not to enter buildings without an earthen floor. A web of Geomantic power extends from here to every part of High Lodge, drawn from the earth.'
'Looks more like flagstones to me,' Guy said. He did not turn round, but Grimm heard growing interest in his voice.
'Precisely,' the young Questor said. 'I read of a basic Geomantic principle, although it meant nothing to me at the time: 'contact is eternal'. The sacrifices wore these rags at the time of their deaths. They were butchered here, according to a prescribed ritual: their blood flowed between the flagstones into the earth. During the ritual, Lizaveta took a sample of their hair, one of their bones, or a scrap of their clothes, and bound it to her. This gives her and her closest acolytes intimate contact with the earth, and it enhances their power accordingly, growing with each sacrifice.'
Retaining the fragment of Madeleine's velvet dress, he pointed at the throne and concentrated, summoning and ordering his power.
