"I've missed you, old friend,” he muttered, clutching it to his chest like a boy embracing a pet dog. The Questor moved towards the slumped figure of the hapless Crohn, and said, “There's plenty of energy to spare in here, Mindstealer, and you need it badly."
Crohn nodded, and placed his hand on Shakhmat, just under the bottommost of the seven gold rings. Kargan marvelled at the sight of vitality returning to the Senior Magemaster, as if he were being inflated by an air pump.
"Thank you, Questor Dalquist,” the Magemaster intoned after a few seconds. “I fancy I can shift for myself now."
In an instant, Crohn's own staff appeared in his hand, and the senior mage completed his transformation from a semi-comatose geriatric to a Seventh Rank Mage in full command of his faculties and his powers.
"I am filthy,” Crohn declared, his steel-grey eyes shining once more as he ran his fingers through his matted hair and beard. “I need a bath."
"We have more pressing concerns,” Kargan said, all too conscious of the pressure of time. “We have a formidable cabal now. I suggest we confront Thorn at once and demand that he submit himself to the Dominie's justice. Questor Loras is with him, but I fancy he is out of practice. He may need help."
"Two Questors, a Mentalist and a Manipulator ought to be able to make the Prelate see sense,” Dalquist said, shaking down his grubby robes, “even if we don't quite look the part."
"What in Perdition are you doing, Magemaster Kargan?” came a voice from the far end of the corridor, and Kargan spun to see the figure of Xylox, his staff at the ready. “Have you forgotten Lord Thorn's orders?” The Questor's eyes seemed to blaze, and blue flames flickered at the end of his staff.
Dalquist leapt to the fore: he slipped on the slick floor, and Kargan winced as he heard the sickening crack of the young Questor's head impacting the wall. Dalquist twitched a couple of times and lay still.
"So you are in this filthy conspiracy, too, Kargan.” Xylox stepped forward, his eyes narrowed to slits. “You're finished; all of you. Or perhaps you fancy your rune magic against my Questor powers? That, I assure you, gentlemen, would prove a foolish and fatal mistake."
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Chapter 8: Traitors
Crohn stepped forward, his presence commanding despite his filthy appearance. “Where lies your loyalty, Questor Xylox?” he demanded, his voice like ice. “Have you forgotten your solemn oath; an oath that should be sacred to you?
"Answer me!"
"You are a damned, bloody traitor, Crohn,” Xylox said through clenched teeth. “I have no need to justify myself to you or your co-conspirators."
"Your primary responsibility is to the Guild!” Crohn snapped. “You have forgotten an accused mage's right to a fair trial without coercion, torture or other compulsion. Lord Thorn himself chose to flout this rule because he preferred a pair of subdued, mindless puppets to healthy men able to defend themselves and expose his own treasonous activities!"
"Lord Thorn regards you as dangerous renegades,” Xylox said. “Such traitorous dogs cannot be left in full possession of their powers. Perhaps a few rules have been bent; what is that compared to the security of the House?"
Guild Law 19.8.1,” the Magemaster snapped. His blue-grey eyes shone like chips of ice. “'Any accusation of treason or other serious transgression is considered as invalid until the accused mage is arraigned before a duly assembled Conclave of his peers, such an assembly to be called by the accused mage's House Prelate at the earliest opportunity'.
"Law 19.8.2 tells us that any mage accused of a serious breach of Guild Law shall submit to confinement in ‘humane conditions until such a Conclave may be assembled. No physical, psychological or thaumaturgic influence shall be used to force any confession or admission from the accused man before this time'.
"Do you think you, Magemaster Faffel, or Prelate Thorn have complied with these inflexible, explicit rules, Questor Xylox? Or do you doubt my recollection of these laws?” Crohn's voice was low but intense.
Xylox snorted. “I owe you no allegiance, Crohn! In this House, Lord Thorn is the law. He-"
"Law 21.5!” Crohn screamed, cutting off the Questor. “'Any and all regulations apply in equal measure and in every particular to all members of every House! No deviation, waiver, amendment or change to these laws and regulations may be made without the majority decision of the Guild Presidium, as recorded in the official records of High Lodge! The body of Guild Law is a single, cohesive framework, supporting and sustaining our Brotherhood! Guilt arising from any knowing breach of these Laws is considered shared between all participants. No defence based upon assumed authority shall be deemed valid!' "You are a damned, bloody traitor, Questor Xylox. You, Magemaster Faffel and, above all, Lord Thorn, are forsworn Oathbreakers!"
Kargan felt a cold shock run through him as Crohn projected a copious bolt of sputum at the wide-eyed, immobile Questor.
"I revile you, scum,” he said, his voice rich with contempt.
Xylox bared his teeth in a snarl and raised his staff over his head. Crohn stepped forward until his nose was mere inches away from the Questor's more impressive, beak-like appendage, and flung his staff clattering to the slick flagstones.
"Strike if you dare, Questor!” he cried. “It will not change my opinion of you. Lord Thorn may have enslaved you, but neither you nor he will do that to me."
The Questor growled and his staff-tip twitched a little, but he did not bring it down.
"You're a blind fool, Xylox,” Kargan said, finding his voice at last. “You confuse might with right. Why would a House Questor and two Magemasters dare to rebel against their Prelate?
"Have you even once stopped to consider that they might be in the right? We swore the same Oath as you and we regard it as sacrosanct. We still stand by that Oath, whereas you seem to have forgotten or ignored it.
"Where lies a mage's first allegiance?"
Xylox rolled his eyes. “I have no intention of discussing-"
"ANSWER ME!” Kargan screamed, feeling irate blood pounding in his temples. “Where lies a mage's primary allegiance?"
"A mage's primary allegiance is to the Lord High Dominie,” the Questor droned. “However, the Dominie's representative within the House-"
"Law 21.5 still applies in full measure!” Crohn snapped.
He bowed his head. “There; it is said. Do what you will with me. You may as well kill me, for if Guild Law can be flouted with impunity, then I am already dead. I will meet my end with pride, for I shall have defended my beliefs with my life, as I swore to do before you were born."
The old Magemaster sank to his knees before the burly Questor, and Kargan followed suit.
I really hope Questor Xylox isn't as pig-headed as he looks, the Mentalist thought, or this could be over very soon.
Long moments passed, as Kargan fixed his gaze on the lichen-encrusted floor, expecting death at any moment.
"Very well, gentlemen.” Xylox's voice was a low growl. “You say Lord Thorn is a traitor, and I have to acknowledge the transgression of a few Guild Laws. What evidence do you have for your allegations?"
****
"Please, Questor Loras, be seated,” Thorn said, his voice amicable as he slid himself into the leather-upholstered chair behind his desk. “Let us discuss your terms."
Loras hid his gratitude as he sank into the chair, facing the Prelate; the damper weather of recent days had taken a toll on his arthritic knees and hips.
"My terms are simple,” he said, crossing his arms across his chest, Blade cradled in the crook of his right elbow. “I demand a solemn affidavit from you to the Lord Dominie, confirming my innocence, and your recommendation of my reinstatement to the Guild rolls."