Alastair Archibald - Weapon of the Guild

A major limitation of this type of magic was that the caster could only amplify emotions and drives that already existed in the target's psyche; Grimm had found Madeleine attractive, and she acted on that fundamental drive, enhancing and augmenting it. However, although she had almost driven a wedge between him and Dalquist, she could not have motivated him to kill his friend unless he had already possessed some seed of deep hatred for the older Questor that could be nurtured and persuaded to flower. Even if he had loathed Dalquist with every fibre of his being, the young witch would have had to batter down his self-control and his conscience, engaging in a contest of wills: Grimm knew a Questor's will to be all but indomitable in such a contest.

Grimm put the book down and rubbed his forehead as if to stimulate his brain. Madeleine was surely too young to have been able to engage in a mind-to-mind contest of wills with a powerful mage like Dalquist and win. Yet that was what she would have needed to be able to do in order to change his mind about her relationship with Grimm.

Certainly, the older Questor had indicated that he felt that he might have been over-reacting on the last full night of Grimm's amorous enslavement, but the young mage, replaying the scene in his unfettered mind, realised that Dalquist had just been trying to mollify him. At that time, his confederate had not really been convinced of the innocence of the tryst. In that case, a more potent form of Geomancy would have been required to bring about the Questor's rapid change of mind, a sleight surely beyond Madeleine's abilities.

If not Madeleine, Grimm mused, then who did cast that spell?

Only a single candidate came to mind: the ancient Prioress, Lizaveta.

It doesn't make sense. Why would the Prioress want to control me? There must be a dozen Questors here from different Houses, all much more experienced than I am. What does she want? Why didn't she approach me directly, instead of employing all this subterfuge?

The questions buzzed around inside Grimm's skull like irritating flies around a horse's eyes, to no end, for many minutes. Then the answer to the last of these came to him: the old woman had recognised that she could not engage in a direct conflict of wills with him and win. She had doubtless sought to soften his resistance by means of his induced infatuation with her young acolyte, and then to break him down by a series of small encounters, each time chipping away a little at his resolve until he was finally hers to control.

Grimm picked up the book once more, and read further. At the highest levels of Geomantic control, the caster could manipulate her subject's very memories as well as his inner drives.

With a cold shock that seemed to penetrate his very soul, he realised that that might well have been the explanation for his grandfather Loras' bizarre and uncharacteristic actions, which had led to his expulsion from the Guild!

A powerful Mage Mentalist might have been able to force Loras into attempted murder, but only a witch could also have convinced him that it had all been his own idea. Only a witch could ever have done this to his grandfather.

What possible motivation could even a powerful witch have had for wanting Prelate Geral dead? Grimm wondered. This makes no sense at all; you're fooling yourself, Afelnor.

The book told him that, since time immemorial, witches and mages had coexisted in an uneasy but firm truce. Witches lacked a cohesive, comprehensive political organisation such as the Ancient and Honourable Guild of Magic-users, Sorcerers and Thaumaturges, and they therefore posed no threat to its continuation. There were small communes of witches, to be sure, but they seemed to possess few political aims that conflicted with the Guild. There did not appear to be any reason why the Prioress of an Order attempting to form a symbiotic, live-and-let-live association with High Lodge should wish to destabilise the Guild, either through the attempted murder of the Prelate of one of its oldest and most prominent Houses, or through the enslavement of one of its most junior members.

Grimm had always been introspective, often debating his deepest motivations and impulses within himself. This had often served him well in the past, and he therefore engaged once more in inner dialogue.

What concrete reason have I to assume that Prioress Lizaveta tampered with Dalquist's memories?

Only a vague suspicion that he sounded a little too sincere when he said he accepted my relationship with Madeleine.

Why would Prioress Lizaveta have risked her favoured Order's relationship with the Guild by trying to enslave a very junior mage?

The questions whirled in Grimm's head without resolution: there seemed to be no rational grounds for his suspicions.

Why do I feel so ready to accept that a witch forced Granfer Loras to try to murder the former Prelate? Yesterday, I convinced myself that Granfer acted out of pity for an ailing, suffering old man. What additional data do I have that persuades me to abandon this earlier viewpoint?

Only the fact that this new, more convoluted, explanation seems easier for me to bear.

Why should I suspect Prioress Lizaveta of somehow having been behind Madeleine's actions?

Simply because the Reverend Mother is an ugly old lady with a harsh and unpleasant voice.

This, Grimm realised with a start, was the same twisted rationale that had led to the brutal murders of so many harmless women in ancient witch-hunts of which he had read. He had no reason whatsoever to believe that the Prioress had acted against him; she had no motive whatsoever, and she had said and done nothing that might to convince him otherwise. Her outrage at Grimm's news of Madeleine's manipulation of him had seemed both convincing and appropriate for a woman in her position.

Grimm told himself that he had constructed nothing more than a house of cards, no more robust and enduring than the one that he had struggled to build with the power of his mind when he had been an Adept, and just as precarious.

If Dalquist only pretended to change his mind, despite his having no recollection of this; if Loras, the mighty Mage Questor, had somehow been ensorcelled into attempting to murder his superior; if, if if…

These suppositions lead nowhere.

He could prove nothing more than Madeleine herself had told him; that this was merely some harmless prank that had gone too far.

Let it go, Afelnor, he told himself. You will never get anywhere with these paranoid ramblings.

He picked up the book he had been reading and replaced it decisively on its shelf, vowing that he would put these ideas behind him.

****

"Are you ready for the feast, Grimm?" Dalquist asked from the doorway connecting their two rooms.

"I suppose so," the younger mage replied, with a deep sigh. "I wish we didn't have to go through with this charade."

At that, Grimm became aware of the sound of tapping, soft and yet urgent, from the chest-of-drawers. As he opened the top drawer, the cause of the noise became apparent as a tiny, familiar face looked up at him.

"I want to go, Grimm! The idea of a bunch of human mages telling tales of their great adventures seems wonderful," the tiny figure piped, hopping up and down in the drawer in an agitated manner.

"Thribble!" Grimm exclaimed. "I thought I left you behind at the House. How did you get here?"

If a demon's fang-filled expression could ever be said to be smug, then Thribble's was.

"I hid in the pocket of one of your robes, just after you packed it in the bag, Questor. I fell asleep on the journey, and I woke up confined in this drawer. It is not very nice in here, and I want to get out. I want to go to this party of yours more than almost anything. I promise that I won't make a sound; just let me travel in your pocket."