Dragonblaster

'I had no idea,” Kargan said, his face red and sweaty.

'Nor did I, Magemaster.” Dalquist fought to control his veering emotions. “But we need to get back now. The House may be at risk, Kargan. Grimm is also in danger, and, should he be compromised, perhaps even the Guild itself.'

'He had a lovely voice… such fine delivery-'

'Never mind that,” Dalquist snapped. “How do we get back to the real world?'

Kargan shook his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts.

'The book is open at the correct page on my work table,” he said. “You must focus on the memory of my chamber. At the moment of casting of the spell, our physical bodies will appear to freeze. We then take up the same positions, inside them, and I will deliver the closing incantation.'

'I'm ready,” Dalquist declared, and Kargan nodded. The Questor closed his eyes and remembered…

…he looked down at his supine form, and then across at the past image of the Mentalist. Dream-Kargan's face was an intent mask of concentration: his brow furrowed; his flesh red and sweaty. Nonetheless, the flawless voice belied this impression of effort, flowing cleanly from one tongue-tangling phrase to the next.

'…ajamar-asturantikhurimat-TE!'

'That's it,” the ‘real’ Kargan said, as the two images became stiff and immobile. The earlier Mentalist still stared at the book on the table, and the figure of Dalquist lay frozen on the couch, his eyes shut.

****

'Let's take up our positions. I'll go first, and I want you to tell me when my posture exactly coincides with my older version. There is a little leeway built into the spell, maybe two inches in any direction, but greater accuracy will maximise the chances of success.'

'What about me?” Dalquist asked. “You're looking at the book, and I have my eyes shut. How can you tell me when I'm in position?'

'I was careful to place my chair in the optimum position, Questor Dalquist, so I can see you without moving my head. At the end of the spell, I was focusing on the first syllables of the closing chant, so it should be easy to resume that posture.'

'How will the chair and the divan support us, Magemaster Kargan? Won't we just sink through them?'

Kargan shook his head. “The preamble to the spell provides fixed, solid reference planes for just such an eventuality. It's all horribly complicated, and I can't pretend I understand it all, but we won't fall to the floor any more than we're falling through it now. Thank the Names; this bit is supposed to be considerably easier than the initial casting. Remember, it doesn't have to be exact.'

After a few adjustments, Dalquist declared himself satisfied; he could not tell where one image of Kargan ended and the other began.

His own position was more difficult to ascertain; Kargan fussed for several minutes, advising Dalquist to move an arm here, a leg there, and so on. At last, Kargan said, “Hold it just there, Questor. Close your eyes… excellent. Here we go.'

Whereas the spell had taken maybe fifteen minutes to cast, its closure lasted only a few moments. After scant score of runic syllables, Dalquist felt a strange tension pulling on his entire body, and he almost cried out in pain. After another few runes, Kargan stopped chanting.

When the Questor opened his eyes, Kargan was on his feet, stretching and beaming. The chair was empty. Dalquist sat up and knew that he, too, was back in the mortal world.

'Bledel Soulmaster's Temporal Divinatory Conjunct,” the Mentalist said, shaking his head as if in disbelief. “It's a shame nobody will ever know of it except you and me, but that will be enough for me.'

'Never mind that, Kargan,” Dalquist said. “What do we do now? We know Thorn is a traitor to the Guild. I say we contact the other members of the Conclave at once.'

Kargan sighed. “We can't, Questor Dalquist, not on spoken evidence alone. How can we prove any of it? This is only the starting point. We need solid, tangible evidence, and people we can trust.'

'Crohn and Doorkeeper,” the Questor said at once. “I'd trust either of them with my life.'

'You may have to! What you… what we're proposing is mutiny. The punishment is death.'

Dalquist felt his guts churning; he knew Thorn was a traitor, and that he, or, rather, his dominant mother, intended to overthrow the Lord Dominie. He also knew that Thorn had, in intent or deed, been involved in the downfall of Loras Afelnor. This situation could not be allowed to continue.

To confront the Prelate directly would be sheer folly, akin to suicide; how to proceed?

Kargan rubbed his chin. “Loras Afelnor might be a useful ally,” he mused. “He, too, seems to be a victim in all of this.'

Dalquist shrugged. “I imagine if anyone could confront Thorn with any hope of success, it would be him. But Loras Afelnor, Mage Questor of the Seventh Rank, is dead and buried. The Conclave took his magic from him.'

Kargan shook his head. “No power on Earth can rob a mage of his powers. All the Conclave's Great Spell did was to place a perdurable mental block on him, so he was unable to access them. That's Mentalist's work, so I know what I'm talking about, Questor Dalquist.'

Dalquist suppressed the urge to laugh. “That spell was cast on Loras by a full Conclave. How could we two ever hope to lift it?'

Kargan shrugged. “I've served on a Conclave before; I was only there to supply energy for the spell, as are most of the attendees. Usually, the lead mage sets up the ensorcelment, while the others passively reinforce the magic. I recommend that, for now, we keep our heads low and act like good little boys. However, I want you to fill your staff with energy, as much as it can hold. I do not have that particular sleight, but perhaps you can do the same for me and the other mages. With Crohn and Doorkeeper on board, we might just be able to swing it.'

Dalquist's mind reeled with possibilities and caveats: if they could keep his mind closed to Thorn's prying; if they could convince the other mages to go along with the plan; if Loras, after decades of inactivity, could defeat Thorn and force him to confess his guilt…

He looked at Kargan. The Mentalist's expression was rapt and cheerful, as if they were planning some pleasant jaunt rather than the overthrow of their lord and master.

If… if… if… he thought. Oh, well; it can't be helped, I suppose. I'd feel like worthless scum if I passed this up.

'All right, Magemaster Kargan, I'm in. I guess we're both traitors now.'

Kargan nodded. “Right; I've got a ton of marking to do, as well as lesson preparation, and I'd guess you're in the same boat. I'll tackle Doorkeeper while you start to get Magemaster Crohn on board. But let's tread carefully.'

'I agree. Take care, Magemaster Kargan.'

The two mages exchanged a solemn handshake; now, they were conspirators in a dangerous game.

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Chapter 20: Goodbye to Diplomacy

Grimm felt all but naked without Redeemer, but he felt confident in his innate abilities as a Questor. As the rotunda's inner door swung open, he drew his energies together in a tight knot, ready to wreak destruction at the first sign of a threat. He was ready for anything…

…except a small boy. The dark-haired youngster looked perhaps ten years of age, and he pushed a covered trolley almost as tall as he. His blond head was bowed, and his dull, brown robes reminded Grimm of those he had worn as a humble student.

Guy did not bother to conceal a cool, odious smirk. “So this is what all the panic's about, is it? Looks like he's about your limit, eh, Dragonbluster?'

Grimm swallowed a sharp retort at Guy's wilful play on his hard-earned title, which, he suspected, he would hear on frequent occasions from now on. He knew he had let himself down badly with his earlier display of self-