Alastair Archibald - Weapon of the Guild

Grimm knew that a small dose of Trina could cure seasickness, but he had no intention of risking re-addiction to that potent substance.

Gulari called up a gentle breeze to drive the ship when it became becalmed, but this was the only magic cast throughout the Quest. Grimm intended to pursue a rigorous, daily regimen of magical and physical exercise, but he spent most of the time facedown in his hammock, shivering and retching, his face ashen and sweaty. The Quest proved otherwise uneventful.

On the second Quest, on behalf of High Lodge, Grimm travelled alone to the city of Viere. The city fathers had defaulted on their tithes to the Guild, pleading poverty, but the presence of a full Guild Questor soon persuaded them to admit that the city's financial position was a little more secure than they had claimed.

With Lord Thorn's permission, Grimm visited his Barony of Crar, but his demon friend, Shakkar, acting as Seneschal, had proved an extraordinarily able administrator during the young Baron's absence. Grimm held an informal meeting with the Council of Crar, but the general opinion seemed to be that the Seneschal was doing a fine job; Grimm's intervention was not required, in any capacity.

The young mage had hardly seen his friend, Dalquist since their visit to High Lodge; as a full Mage Questor of the Seventh Rank, having fulfilled his financial obligation to Arnor House at last, Dalquist was living far away, returning only briefly to be dispatched on a Quest of his own.

Grimm bided his time. He yearned to be out on the road again, amongst good friends and good companions, using his powers to the full in the defence of Guild values and principles. He was a Mage Questor, not some bodyguard or financial enforcer, but he learned that the valorous exploits mentioned in the Deeds of the Questors were rare exceptions, rather than the rule. He concentrated on becoming as fit as he could be, mentally and physically, ready to take on the rigours of the trail once more.

His minuscule demon companion, Thribble, did not help matters by reminding Grimm on numerous occasions that he wanted to gather more material for tales with which to bedazzle his fellow netherworld creatures on his eventual return to the demon realm.

Grimm was now seventeen years old, still slender but wiry, and possessed of considerable strength and stamina, but with no release for it other than his daily exercises. He tried to contact his old Scholasticate friends, Madar Gaheela and Argand Forutia, but both were at crucial stages in their magical training; their respective Magemasters forbade external distractions.

More than once, Grimm eyed with longing the pouch containing the addictive herbs Trina and Virion, which he always carried with him. He was over the worst of his addiction now, but the ennui brought on by waiting for his next real Quest re-awoke the hunger within him. He felt tempted on many occasions to smoke just a small quantity of the herbs, but he managed on each occasion to leave the pouch unopened. He refused to become a puppet of the substances again, but his lengthening period of inactivity served only to increase the frequency and intensity of the yearning.

Something must happen soon, he told himself. Any day now; let me just get through today. Tomorrow, something must happen. Tomorrow, or the day after…

****

Lord Prelate Thorn Virias ploughed through his endless paperwork. The financial situation of Arnor House had improved since he had been elected a permanent member of the Guild Presidium and since the House's subsequent rise in reputation, but Thorn still looked for reasons to dispatch his Questors on demanding and risky Quests, so he could enhance his own prestige and status within the Guild and place High Lodge in his debt.

Lord Prelate Thorn? The mental message emanating from Thorn's scrying-crystal carried greater urgency than might have been expected if High Lodge were requesting triplicate copies of Arnor House's accounting records, and Thorn looked up from his papers.

Lord Dominie Horin, it is good to hear from you again, thought Thorn, placing his hands on the crystal. What may I do for you?

Lord Thorn, I wish to acquaint you with a worrisome state of affairs. Guild Mages seem to have been resigning their vocations at an alarming frequency in recent months. We at High Lodge have recently lost a prominent Mage Mentalist, Bronin Wearth, called the Mindmaster, after thirty years of staunch service. He has always been a dedicated, trustworthy servant of the Guild, and his resignation is most out of character for this dependable and loyal mage.

I see from the records of other Houses that at least five other such occurrences, all equally puzzling, have taken place in the last two months. The only common factor seems to be that all of these mages have resigned after visiting the newly dedicated House at the foot of the Shest Mountains, and that nothing more has been heard of them since. All of the mages who have resigned were either Mentalists or Illusionists; in other words, manipulators of the mind. I am concerned that the mages may be setting up some clandestine activity in opposition to us; there must be some reason for this silence.

Many Prelates are convinced that nothing sinister pertains to these events, but I am persuaded otherwise. I wish to invoke a formal Quest to investigate these disappearances, and I need the assistance of a Prelate whom I can trust implicitly to implement it; of course, given the apparent risks involved in this undertaking, it will not be held against you should you refuse.

Thorn had no intention of refusing such an opportunity, but he made as much of the moment as he could, in order to maximise Dominie Horin's gratitude at his eventual acceptance.

Lord Dominie, I feel indeed gratified by your confidence in Arnor House. However, I am sure that you realise only too well that our resources at this time are limited. We have three Questors available for the service of our Guild, dedicated men who are all eager to serve, but the Quest you have outlined does place great demands upon the House.

Thorn waited a few moments before continuing, giving the impression that he was in deep cogitation.

Very well, Lord Domini, he continued, the needs of the Guild must come before those of an individual House; you may rely on me. I will despatch a pair of Questors to the region of Shest at once. We will get to the bottom of this worrying mystery as soon as possible.

Thank you, Lord Thorn, Horin responded. I have, of course, the greatest faith in you. I will leave the resolution of the issue entirely to you. I would like to clarify one thing: should these mages be engaged in some clandestine enterprise contrary to the aims of the Guild, I authorise your Questors to take whatever action is necessary to settle the matter, up to and including vital termination of any renegade magic-users.

Thorn started. You will give us carte blanche to execute Guild brethren, Lord Dominie? He felt shocked; such explicit permission was rare, and the idea of the ruthless execution of a group of Guild Mages was distasteful even to the hard-nosed Prelate.

Only if they are shown to be acting against our interests, you understand, Prelate Thorn. If they have been somehow abducted or duped, then they must be rescued.

I understand, Lord Dominie. You may rely on Arnor House to provide a speedy and efficient resolution of your concerns, one way or the other.

****

Xylox Ceras, Mage Questor of the Seventh Rank, called 'The Mighty' was no libertarian. Despite the considerable wealth he had accrued over twenty years of Quests, he habitually wore simple woollen robes in grey, black or brown; his tastes were starkly ascetic. In truth, Xylox was a miser, but he regarded himself as an upholder of prudent frugality.

He felt, therefore, more than a little displeased when he laid eyes upon his fellow Questor, Grimm Afelnor. The young man wore extravagant, brightly coloured silk robes, and Xylox thought he could smell pomade and perfumed soap on the Questor's hair and skin.