Alastair Archibald - Weapon of the Guild

Without taking his eyes off the tattooed unfortunate, Grimm took out his pipe, filled it and spoke a single word, "K'chaat".

A small blue flame appeared at the tip of Grimm's right forefinger, which the mage used to light the tobacco within the pipe. The mage inhaled luxuriantly before releasing a blue-grey cloud of smoke.

The bullet-headed man blanched. "You're a bloody mage!"

"A thirsty bloody mage," Grimm corrected, smiling again.

Without a word, the man hurried to the bar and brought back a foaming pint of ale, placing it in front of Grimm.

"We have no quarrel, Lord Mage. I'm sorry I spilt your drink."

"Your apology is accepted. Thank you."

Grimm sat, picked up his ale, and looked past the stubble-headed warrior. The altercation was at an end, and the man seemed to remember his original errand as he disappeared quickly into the jakes.

Dalquist sat up and brushed the cowl from his head.

"Right, that'll do," the older mage said, draining his glass. "Drink up, Grimm. Now we can go."

Grimm looked at his friend with a quizzical air. "Would you really have waited here all day for something like that to happen, Dalquist?"

"Not all day, Grimm," the older man drawled, smiling. "I just needed somebody suitable to get within range of my left foot."

"You mean he really was tripped?" Grimm yelped.

"Indeed he was. It seemed to me you'd have to work at it to get someone like that to back down, especially if he knew he was in the right."

"You bastard, Dalquist!" Grimm hissed, under his breath.

"That's 'Senior Bastard' to you, Afelnor," Dalquist replied. "Don't forget that."

****

The moon was up by the time they reached Arnor House. A House servant emerged from the shadows and took the horses away.

Grimm walked to the black portal, which opened at a wave of his ringed hand, as he had known it would. A familiar figure stood before them: Doorkeeper.

"Questor Dalquist, Questor Grimm: welcome back to the House. I trust your Quest went well, indeed very well."

"Thank you, Doorkeeper," Dalquist said. "Yes, I think we can say that the Quest went well."

"Very well indeed, Doorkeeper," Grimm declared, "but I'm glad to be home again."

"Lord Thorn told me-what was it? — oh, yes," the ancient major-domo twittered. "He said he will see you at your earliest con… convenience in the morning. Still, you must be tired after your trip, and your rooms are ready for you.

"Welcome home, Brother Mages."

"It's good to be home, Doorkeeper," Grimm said, smiling with unfeigned happiness as he stepped inside the comforting, familiar walls of the House. "I'm just glad I made it."

Lord Thorn felt a glow of contentment as he re-read his message from Lord Dominie Horin. High Lodge commended Arnor House for the valiant actions of its Questors in the retrieval of the Eye of Myrrn. Horin congratulated Thorn on behalf of his Questors and informed the Prelate that he was henceforth a permanent member of the Guild Presidium.

The page was not signed by an amanuensis, as was common with missives from the Lodge: it bore Lord Horin's own signature and seal.

Thorn knew that only Presidium members were eligible for the post of Lord Dominie; he was now a member of the Guild elite, a step nearer to his mother's ultimate goal.

If this doesn't keep the meddling old witch off my back for a while, the Prelate thought, I don't know what will.

Questor Dalquist's recent report also gave him cause for satisfaction; the senior Questor gave Grimm Afelnor full credit for his instrumental part in the downfall of Starmor and the safe extraction of the Eye.

The House now had three active Questors on its rolls. The good opinion of High Lodge, combined with Thorn's position on the Presidium, meant that Arnor House would be entrusted more often with the conduct of prestigious Quests on behalf of High Lodge. In addition to this, the enhanced status of the House meant that more wealthy parents would send their offspring to Arnor to be educated. The possibilities were endless…

A knock at his door roused him from his idle reverie. "Enter."

For a moment, Thorn did not recognise the splendidly-attired, confident young man standing before him as the youth whose Acclamation ceremony he had attended a matter of months ago. Grimm's expression was neutral and yet self-assured; he looked every inch a cool, collected Guild Questor.

"Please be seated, Questor Grimm," Thorn said, with an expansive wave towards the visitor's chair.

"Thank you, Lord Prelate." Even the boy's voice seemed to have matured in the last few weeks. This was the voice of a Questor who had faced adversity and triumphed.

Thorn looked through the notes he had made from Dalquist's verbal report, delivered thirty minutes beforehand.

"I am sure you will be pleased to hear that Questor Dalquist speaks very highly of your resourcefulness in the defeat of this demon, Starmor," the Prelate said, leafing through his papers.

The boy inclined his head and lowered his eyes, again giving the image of a modest, imperturbable mage.

"I am grateful for Questor Dalquist's good impression, Lord Prelate. I wish to mention that it was Questor Dalquist's own ingenuity that led to Starmor's ultimate downfall, and his magical skill that allowed us to conceal the Eye once we had laid our hands upon it."

"This has been noted, Questor Grimm," Thorn replied, "and we are indeed cognisant of his valiant acts.

"One thing puzzles me, however. Why, once you had so cleverly confined Starmor to his own four-dimensional prison, did you feel the need to transport yourselves to his demesne in order to destroy him? Was he not safely secured?"

Afelnor's words seemed careful and measured, almost as if he had rehearsed them, but Thorn reasoned that the Questor wished to address his Prelate clearly and without hesitation; of course he would have rehearsed his report.

"Lord Prelate, I delivered Starmor to his prison with a standard, runic spell of Translocation in the second form, the External variant of the cantrip. As you are better aware than I, this form requires physical contact with the subject. In so doing, I unwittingly established a mental link to the demon, through which he contacted me. Questor Dalquist reasoned that Starmor might use this link to attempt to control me beyond my power to resist; the former Baron was a powerful enemy, indeed. Once aware of this, he suggested that it were better if we were to disperse Starmor's physical form, in order to eliminate this risk. Since Starmor's physical form was immortal, it seemed a prudent step. The demon is now so finely disintegrated that, by the Sixth Law of Diabolic Control, it should take Starmor centuries or millennia to reassemble himself."

Questor Grimm spoke in the cool, wordy tones of Mage Speech, and the Prelate nodded in approval.

Crohn taught this one well, Thorn thought.

"Your explanation is coherent and credible," Thorn allowed, "and it tallies in all essentials with Questor Dalquist's own report. The senior mage's actions do him credit, and your significant contribution to the success is also noted."

The Prelate leaned back in his chair.

"As of today, you are entitled to bear a gold ring on your staff, signifying that you are a full-blooded Mage Questor of the First Rank, one who has performed in a satisfactory manner on his first Quest. Mage Armourer Thuril will do this for you."

Afelnor blinked, although his eyes gleamed. "I was not aware that there was such a rank as Mage Armourer, Lord Prelate," was all he said.

Thorn smiled. "You are still young, and there is much that you do not know concerning this House. The Mage Armourer is responsible for ensuring the protection of the House against attack; a Mage Staff is a potent weapon, and it is Thuril's prerogative to annotate that staff with the badges signifying the approbation of his Prelate."