His heart began to beat faster. This could be what he had been waiting for! Checking his reflection in the black sheen of the magically sharp Breaking Stone, he smoothed his brown beard and ordered his hair as best he could without the aid of comb or brush. When the Prelate called, one did not dally!
With a tug at his robes, he strode resolutely towards Thorn's turret, letting his staff, Shakhmat, bob merrily at his side in a jaunty manner of its own accord. After a few moments, he remembered proper mage protocol, took tight hold of the baton and assumed a more sedate manner. He would be on his guard, too, with his language. Formal Mage Speech would be the order of the day.
The tightly winding staircase was very difficult to negotiate whilst carrying a six-foot staff, which hampered him to a considerable extent, with Shakhmat clattering on the turret's stone walls every few steps, announcing his approach. It occurred to Dalquist that this might not be coincidental. Thorn must have chosen this tower as his sanctuary for this very reason: its defensible qualities.
Drawing a deep breath in an attempt to still his pounding heart, the young Questor knocked three times on the door and waited. A laconic "Come" issued from the inner sanctum and Dalquist entered the chamber. Closing the door behind him, he took two steps forward and stood ramrod-straight before the battered oak desk, Shakhmat at half an arm's length from his right side as he had been taught.
He stared straight ahead, trying not to be distracted by the occasional pink flash from Lord Thorn's bald patch as the Prelate scanned a number of papers in what seemed almost a studied show of indifference. After several minutes, the ruddy face lifted, and the Prelate locked his powerful gaze onto Dalquist's eyes.
"Thank you for coming, Rufior. Your name is Danquest, is it not?" The Prelate's tone suggested that he did not care one way or the other.
"Dalquist, Lord Prelate." The young mage did not dare to say more.
"Ah, yes, I thought so," Thorn drawled. "I never forget a name or a face." The Prelate's gaze dared Dalquist to comment, but the Questor remained mute.
Thorn adopted an almost avuncular manner, motioning Dalquist to sit in the comfortable leather chair opposite the Prelate. The Questor sank warily into the squeaking leather, trying to make as little commotion as possible.
Thorn put his hands together as if praying, his index fingers touching the tip of his nose, deep in momentary thought. After a few moments, he pulled a half-full bottle from a desk drawer.
"Would you care for a drink, Questor Dalquist? I have a fine brandy here."
Dalquist ached for Thorn to get to the point, but he dared not say so.
"No, thank you, Lord Prelate."
Thorn regarded with an unmistakeable look of longing at the bottle, but he replaced it in the drawer, unopened.
"A matter has been brought to my attention, Questor Dalquist; a serious matter, which greatly affects the House. I need the services of a good, loyal Questor to resolve it. Are you that mage?"
Dalquist could hardly bring the words out. "Certainly, Lord Prelate. I am honoured that you should have selected me for this role." He maintained an outward icy calm, but inside he was rejoicing. A Questor with no Quests to his name was nobody. After this, he would be able to walk with pride and look other Questors in the eye. He would also be entitled to bear the first gold ring on his staff, showing that he had undertaken a Quest for his House. He would also be on his way up the ladder to the coveted Seventh Rank.
Thorn considered further. "Could you kill a man if you had to, Questor Dalquist?"
Dalquist felt taken aback by the blunt question, but he managed a careful answer. "I find the idea distasteful, Lord Prelate, but I have been told many times that a Questor often needs to act without thinking, even if this includes killing. I am certain that I am capable of killing, if necessary, to defend myself."
Thorn managed a ghost of a smile. "What would you do if I told you that an unresisting man might need to be killed without posing a direct threat to you?"
Dalquist was a kind and considerate young man who loathed wanton cruelty, but he was not a normal man. Forged in the emotional heat and pain of a Questor's Ordeal, he had been coached, cajoled and coerced into obeying the orders of his superiors under all circumstances. The Guild and the House came first, and Thorn was the direct representative of both.
The young man was no mindless automaton, for a Mage Questor needed a quick mind and the ability to assess a situation at a moment's notice and act accordingly. Nonetheless, loyalty to the House was almost paramount among his drives. Lord Thorn would not be asking Dalquist to do this if he had not a good and pressing reason for it.
"I would not enjoy it, Lord Prelate, but I know that I could perform such an act if you required it of me in your capacities as Prelate and representative of the Guild." Only a small moue of distaste betrayed Dalquist's feelings. Thorn proffered a warm and almost amicable smile.
"It may not be necessary to do so, Dalquist. Indeed, I hope it is not; I have never developed a taste for homicide myself, but I have often had to commit it when duty demanded it. I leave the ultimate decision to you."
Dalquist looked a little discomfited, as well he might, but he had the good sense not to demur.
"However, a man needs to be removed from office and replaced by his younger brother; a man somewhat more… amenable to the House's philosophy. If the older brother will not see reason, it may be necessary to impose the ultimate sanction. However, if you can approach him closely and compel him to resign his post by the use of magic, then so much the better. One of the problems that you may have is part of the reason why I want him removed from office: he distrusts Guild Mages and does not allow us free passage through the town of Shelt, a town directly between here and High Lodge. It is irksome to have to ride around the town, and even more so to pay heavy tolls in order to ride through it. Our Lord Grall of Shelt has refused my entreaties to erect a Guild House in the town, and I feel that he will become an ever-sharper thorn in our sides as he grows in confidence. He has been almost openly flippant towards me on occasions."
Dalquist felt a shock of surprise. "Surely, Lord Prelate, this is a matter for High Lodge to resolve. The man insults the whole Guild by insulting one of its House Prelates."
Thorn leant forward, fixing Dalquist's eyes with his own, and he spoke slowly, with exaggerated clarity. "I do not want High Lodge to hear about this Quest until it is completed, Questor Dalquist. Is that clear?"
The Questor almost gulped. What Thorn was suggesting was close to a breach of Guild protocol, although Dalquist knew it was not the place of a mere tyro to say so.
"Quite clear, Lord Prelate."
"I want Grall out of office by whichever means may be necessary, and I want you to bring this about. I have told Lord Grall that I am sending a representative from the House to essay further negotiations with regard to concessions for House members. I would do the deed myself, but Grall is deeply suspicious of me."
With good reason, it would seem! Dalquist thought, suppressing a wry smile.
"Grall is surrounded by a large retinue of armed guards at all times, and so you may require a certain level of destructive magic in order to escape if you are forced to execute him.
"His brother, Burres, is the only logical choice as his successor: an ambitious young man who wants nothing more than to forge close links with the Guild and with this House in particular, since he was once a Neophyte here. He hates Grall with an abiding passion.
"However you achieve the deed, Burres wants it known throughout the town that Grall has been removed or humbled at my behest. He does not want it thought an accident. The townspeople will soon see that it is in their own best interests to recognise as a leader someone with such powerful friends, or to eschew one who has roused the ire of such people. With Grall dead or discredited, Burres is confident that he will succeed his despised brother."