puppet.
'A poor, innocent little nun befriended me on my first visit to High Lodge,' he continued, pushing through the mingled emotions of shame and self-accusation that threatened to unman him
'I thought I was in love, but she was, in truth, putting me under a witch spell. I became besotted, and I nearly turned against Questor Dalquist, whom I'm sure you remember.
'She failed, I'm pleased to say, but I was lucky. As I now know, the Order's superior killed her for failing to enslave me and had her body butchered in the crypts under High Lodge. The elders of the coterie drank her blood, gentlemen, and it looked like they enjoyed it.'
'A gruesome little tale,' Crest admitted. 'But have you ever thought she might have been executed for what she did to you? Some of these Orders have pretty strict rules.'
'That's not what happened at all, Crest!' Grimm spoke rather louder than he had intended. He felt his temperature rising, and he called Redeemer to him, accessing the charm of Inner Calm he had placed on the staff. The spell took the edge off his righteous anger, but a trace remained, bubbling beneath the surface of his psyche. The two warriors looked on with bemused expressions as the Questor struggled with his emotions.
'I'm sorry, Crest; I shouldn't have shouted at you,' Grimm said, at last. 'Indeed, I might have left it at that. But I was in High Lodge only a fortnight ago, and I was foolish enough to confront the Prioress with my suspicions after she tried to cozen my affections. I was on my guard, and she wasn't able to take control of me. However, she told me that she had power over the Lord Dominie himself, and that I'd be a fool to try to expose her to him.'
'Really, Questor Grimm, you do seem to enjoy belittling yourself.' Harvel laughed. 'The old lady-I presume she was old?-might just have found you attractive. It could happen, you know; you're not too ugly a specimen, in the right light.'
Grimm shook his head. 'With another mage, Necromancer Numal, I went down to the crypts, where I saw the girl's body desecrated. There was another mage already there: Questor Guy, called the Great Flame. He's Prioress Lizaveta's illegitimate grandson, and he hates her with a passion, but even he's not foolish to make a direct assault on her, despite being a Seventh Rank Questor of some years' experience. We found that Lizaveta had power nodes distributed throughout High Lodge. I don't think she did that just because she felt insecure and lonely in her old age. She put her hooks in Lord Horin, as she'd told me, and I nullified her power by drawing the soaked-in blood from the earth beneath the Lodge and destroying her throne.'
Harvel shrugged. 'All right; she's no sweet little old lady, I'll grant you that. Nonetheless, if you've destroyed her power, why do you need to pursue her now?'
'I've only destroyed her power base at High Lodge,' Grimm said. 'There must be a Priory somewhere, and you can bet that it's a far more potent focus of her energies than anywhere else. I aim to find that Priory and wipe out her influence, once and for all.'
Crest scratched his nose, his brow furrowing. 'Why didn't your Lord Dominie just destroy her when he had the chance, and be done with it?'
'I don't know, Crest,' Grimm said, trying to fight the irritability that seemed almost his constant companion these days. 'Perhaps he was still befuddled by the remnants of her spell. Perhaps she retained enough latent energy to persuade him to let her go. Perhaps Horin's getting senile. I don't know the reason, all right?
'What I do know is that I've been given a task, and I'm going to carry it out to the best of my abilities! Is that understood?'
The Questor saw the two warriors regarding him with cool stares, and it seemed to him as if the temperature in the room had dropped by several degrees.
'I'm sorry, Crest,' he said, slapping his hand to his left temple and dragging it across his forehead. 'I shouldn't have talked to you in that manner; I owe you much more than that. I think I've just been working a little too hard for the last fortnight, and I've hardly left myself time to think. This is my first Quest as the Senior Mage, and an important one. I don't want to make a mess of it.
'Please, Crest, Harvel, forgive me if I've been a little short with you.'
Grimm noticed the elevation of Crest's right eyebrow.
'All right, a lot short,' he said. 'I'm sorry. What more can I say?'
Crest shook his head. 'Don't worry; you're forgiven as far as I'm concerned, Mage. I just wondered if part of you was still yearning for those herbs of yours. As I recall, you were 'a little short' with us when you used them, too.'
The Questor sighed, ashamed to feel the prickling of hot, angry tears at the margins of his eyes. To hide these, lest they be misunderstood, he shut his eyes tight. In what had become almost a reflex action to any kind of confrontation, he found himself drawing his power into a tight knot.
You're wound too damn… tight, Afelnor! he chided himself. Let go, can't you? These are your friends, and you don't have many of those to spare! They're just worried about you, even if they don't need to be.
Grimm heaved a long, shuddering sigh, letting his frustrations and worries go as best he was able.
'Sometimes I find the yearning for the smoke a little intense,' he said to Crest. 'However, this isn't one of the times, I assure you. I'm just worried and overwrought. A good night's sleep will see me right, I promise.'
After remaining silent for a few seconds, Crest said, 'Well, least said, soonest mended, I suppose, so let's say no more about the matter. So where is this den of diabolic evil, then?'
'They were last seen heading south-east from High Lodge; that's all I know, I'm afraid, gentlemen. Still, at least I know it's not here, and I'm fairly sure it's not likely to be anywhere with an established Guild presence. I propose we start our search in Yoren, about three days' ride from here-a couple of my spies have told me a party of nuns passed through there recently.'
'I know that town; it's pretty rough, Lord Mage,' Harvel said. 'Just as well you'll have a couple of seasoned warriors with you.'
'Oh, I can take care of myself, Harvel. Don't worry about me.'
Harvel leaned closer, a grim, humourless smile on his face. 'In Yoren, they don't play fair, Questor, and they're people who tend to despise the Guild ring. I'd give that place a wide berth if I were on my own, and I've got eyes in the back of my head, not to mention full battle honours in three wars.'
Crest's expression darkened. 'Harvel's right, for once in his life, Questor. They may not like lawmakers-an attitude with which a man in my line of work can sympathise-but they really detest Guild Mages. So don't get cocky, Grimm. Remember that Harvel and I hail from Drute, and you know what a fun little town that is. So when I tell you even we Drutians steer clear of Yoren, you'd better believe that we know what we're talking about. Seventh Rank Mage or not, they'd eat you for breakfast. These fellows don't stand in line and take turns to attack you.'
Grimm bit back an acid reply. He was strength and power personified; what could some pathetic provincial Secular with a bad attitude and a dagger do to him? Ready to give a cool and measured defence of his magical abilities, he noticed the terrible intensity on the faces of his two warrior friends. He opened his mouth to reassure Harvel and Crest of his invincibility, but he did not speak.
Yes, he might be the Dragonblaster, a Questor of the Seventh Rank, but he realised that he was desperately ignorant of the ways of the world. Both Crest and Harvel were experienced men of the world and hardy warriors; it would be foolish to laugh at their concerns. These men had been familiar with Guild Mages for longer than Grimm had lived.
Despite the proud protestations of his unthinking, demanding hormones, he was still a seventeen-year-old boy, and it would be wise to heed the advice of these men, even if it hurt him to admit it. As he had worked through his maps and itineraries, Yoren had seemed just another named dot on a piece of paper, and he would have marched into it as if he owned the place, without the warriors' warnings.
'I think… I'm sure you're right, fellows. I'll take your advice, I promise. Just smack me on the head if I get a little over-confident in Yoren.'
The two warriors laughed, their worries evidently appeased by the Questor's conciliatory tone.
'We will, Lord Mage,' the smiling Harvel said. 'But just remember, it might be too late by the time we get to that stage.'
What about Guy? The thought popped unbidden into Grimm's head. I may be a little too cocksure for my own good, but he's like a bull in a china shop!
'Er, gentlemen, there's another mage who'll be coming with us: another Seventh Rank Questor. It would be good if you had a few words with him before we go any further. He's just a little hot-tempered at times. A bit
