"Are we agreed on adjournment?” Horin asked the Conclave, and Loras heard an enthusiastic chorus of assent. “So stipulated."
"With the greatest respect, Lord Dominie, that is ‘so declared',” an anonymous inquisitor said.
"Oh, very well, Drimend. ‘So declared', if you wish. Conclave is adjourned."
"The Conclave adjourns,” Rithel declared.
Bang-bang!
Loras swung around as golden light flooded into the room from behind him. He saw the two guards walking into the room, dark and forbidding, bearing his chains like garlands.
"Remove the prisoner!"
Loras walked towards the black-clothed men, struggling to retain his composure as they fastened iron manacles and fetters around his wrists, ankles and waist.
As he was led away from the dark, green-lit room, he thought of the simple, poor existence he had led as a blacksmith in Lower Frunstock, compared to his glorious, rich incarnation as a Mage Questor. He now longer knew or cared which of these lives he preferred; he just knew he wanted to survive at any cost.
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Chapter 28: Behind the Scenes
Thorn Virias lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. As a Guild Prelate, albeit one accused of treason, he enjoyed certain privileges, one of which was a comfortable, single cell. Another was that the cell had no listening-ports, so he knew nothing he said here would be overheard.
Sitting up, he took the sheet of paper from a pocket and read it for the seventh time, as if the words held some enciphered mystery waiting to succumb to his sharp intellect.
First charge: conspiracy to pervert the will of a fellow Guild Mage, before, during and after the fact.
Second charge: deception of senior Guild personnel in the furtherance of said crimes.
Third charge: collusion in said crimes with an agency outside the Guild, before, during and after the fact.
Fourth charge: causing the death of a Guild Neophyte through reckless and callous disregard of training protocol.
The remaining charges detailed on the sheet were less serious, but the least of them carried the automatic penalty of dismissal from the Guild. The three main charges mandated death.
During his brief hearing earlier that day, Thorn had refused to answer all questions put to him until all other evidence had been heard; this was his personal privilege as a member of the Presidium, and a mere formality. Another privilege granted him was the right to pass a written statement to the Conclave, for the eyes of the Senior Inquisitor only, and he had taken full advantage of that right.
We'll just have to wait and see if the bait's taken, he thought, folding the charge sheet and putting it back his pocket.
He closed his eyes and lay back.
After a period of dreamless sleep, Thorn awoke to a gentle rap at his cell door and sat up, the iron chains on his wrists and ankles clanking.
His heart pounding, he said, “Enter."
The door opened to reveal Lord Horin, clad in golden robes. Thorn rose to his feet, his heavy fetters permitting only a clumsy bow.
"Greetings, Lord Dominie."
"Greetings, Lord Prelate.” Horin's impassive face gave Thorn no clue as to the Dominie's inner feelings, but the mere fact of the senior mage's presence proved he had at least read the note.
After an awkward silence, Horin pushed the door to and said, “I gave the guard permission to go and eat. We will not be disturbed."
Thorn nodded. “Thank you, Lord Dominie. You read my note?"
"I did, Thorn. If you are trying to usurp my position, you will have made the worst mistake of your life."
Thorn smiled. “Have no fear on that score, Lord Dominie. I do not seek higher rank. I am more than happy to remain as a Prelate.
"How went Master Afelnor's hearing?"
Horin sighed. “I extended a point of personal privilege to grant him the defence of outside influence, as you suggested in your note, and I have barred the Conclave from accepting rebuttal evidence without my authority. We ended the hearing on the charge of wilful trespass, adjourning after Senior Mentalist Tritt intervened. I would have been here sooner, but I have been playing cards. Had I lost too suddenly, it might have aroused suspicion."
"You did well, Lord Dominie,” Thorn said, as if he were the senior mage, bestowing praise on an inferior. “By setting up Loras for an acquittal on the first charge, you will not need to hear Magemaster Kargan's evidence on the matter. By allowing the defence of outside influence, I can claim the same mitigation."
"What do you expect from this trial?” Horin scowled, but Thorn had not expected him to be happy at the turn of events.
Thorn rubbed his chin. “A full acquittal, of course! Loras Afelnor's prior conviction should be quashed, and the more recent capital charges of trespass, petty treason and conspiracy should be upheld for him and his co-conspirators."
"You demand perversion of the course of justice,” Horin snapped, a pair of angry, red blotches appearing on his cheeks. “What makes you think I will go along with this… this farrago?"
"You have already begun this process, Lord Horin,” Thorn said, his voice as smooth and cold as iced silk. “You are no innocent participant in this affair."
"I have committed no crime,” Horin blustered, but the Prelate knew the Dominie was hooked.
"Not yet,” Thorn said. “Even so, you must admit you have already stretched the rules a little, Lord Dominie. I have a trusted ally within High Lodge. He has a copy of the note I sent you, and he is prepared to swear it is a true copy of the one I gave to you. You must admit that it might make interesting reading if it were ever to reach the Conclave."
This was pure bluff on the Prelate's part, but he was more than willing to gamble that it would never occur to Horin to use Mage Sight on a fellow Guildbrother; this would be a gross breach of the Guild protocol ingrained in Horin since his first day as a Student. Thorn had, of course, been subject to the same indoctrination, but, where a Questor might spend fifteen years in training, a Specialist Mage might spend most of a Secular lifetime; fifty or sixty years at least.
"You said that you are in possession of… controversial information concerning me,” Horin said, his eyes hooded. “Before we discuss the matter any further, I wish to know more."
Thorn made a lengthy show of inspecting his immaculate fingernails before he responded.
"Well, let us see,” he said, admiring his flawless, manicured cuticles. “There is the matter of your… unwilling entanglement with my mother. You might have committed no crime there, but your carefully-cultured image of strength, celibacy and self-control might be more than a little tarnished if that ever became public knowledge."
"You cannot possibly prove-"
"Oh, I have much more interesting titbits than that, Horin.” Thorn deliberately omitted the honorific to underline his control of the situation. “I do not choose to give you full details at this time, but I trust you remember a young lady of negotiable virtue in the town of Marada, where, as I recall, you lost your purse and a rather important document after a passionate and drunken encounter.
"I have plenty of other interesting and embarrassing tales to recount, some of them quite shocking in their explicit detail."
"The Conclave would not believe you, Lord Thorn.” Horin's blazing red cheeks stood in stark contrast to his ashen face. “I could order your evidence to be expunged from the record as hearsay."
"But mud sticks, doesn't it, Horin? I can, of course, produce witnesses for many of these sordid little interludes, should it ever become necessary. If I am going down, I swear I will take you with me. Even without direct proof, I am sure the Conclave would love to hear of an interesting episode involving five thousand gold pieces that never found their way into the Giana House accounts when you were Prelate."