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Chapter 17: A Journey into Memory
Kargan took a series of shuddering, deep breaths, wiping a shock of matted hair from his sweaty forehead. He straightened his blue-tinted spectacles, and it seemed as if each hour of his seventy-six years bore down on him like a lead weight. As a Guild Mage, he might be considered in the prime of his life, but he felt like a decrepit, shambling geriatric.
Dalquist, forty years his junior, had not escaped unscathed, either. The Questor's face was drawn and ashen, with dark rings around his eyes.
"So, is that it, Magemaster Kargan?” The younger man's tone was dull and resigned.
Kargan shook his head. Even that tiny effort strained at his overtaxed muscles.
"Not quite, Questor Dalquist,” he said. “I have one more spell to try: Bledel Soulmaster's Temporal Divinatory Conjunct. However, I'm in no condition to try that at this time. We'd probably better leave it for a couple of days or so, until I've brought my strength back up to its optimum level. It's not even worth trying in my current state."
Dalquist sat up. “Bledel; you've mentioned him before, Kargan. How come I have heard of him but never read anything of his magical innovations?"
"It's a Schedule Nine spell in the Engagement class, external, caster and subject bonded,” Kargan said. “It's not officially on the Register, if you understand me."
The Mentalist tapped the side of his nose, signifying that he did not want knowledge of this to go outside the walls of his chamber.
"Er… Magemaster Kargan, I'm not a Seventh Level Mentalist and a Magemaster with decades of service to the House,” Dalquist said, his expression blank. “What in the name of Magedom is a Schedule Nine spell, and what is this Register you mentioned?"
Kargan blinked. Of course, he chided himself: a Questor had little need to consult ancient librams for research or inspiration.
"I'm sorry, Questor Dalquist,” he said. “I don't meet a lot of Questors, as you can imagine; you lot are about as common as elephant wings."
Kargan stood, drew his robes around himself and unconsciously adopted the lecturing stance he used in class.
"As you are no doubt aware, Questor Dalquist, most runic spells are found in librams like these,” he declared, pointing at one of his bookshelves. “Nice, safe, reliable spells which have been tried and tested over a period of generations."
"Yes, Magemaster Kargan, I know that, of course. But what of the efforts of our Scholars? There are always new spells coming out."
Kargan adjusted his spectacles and cleared his throat. “That is correct, Dalquist. However, for every spell released into general usage, there are fifty others that never see the light of day during the lifetime of their originators.
"New spells are not approved by the Scholar's House, but by High Lodge itself. There is a considerable backlog, as you may imagine. Every approved spell is included on the ‘Register of Incantations', which is made freely available to the Prelate of each House. Spells are graded from Schedule One, the lowest, to Schedule Seven, with the spell's schedule indicating the lowest rank at which the casting mage may attempt the spell."
"I've never heard of it,” Dalquist admitted.
Kargan was beginning to enjoy himself. In the complicated hierarchy of mage ascendancy, Questors, given their phenomenal versatility and rarity, were the undisputed jewels in the Guild's crown. However, here was he, a relatively humble Mentalist, enlightening a Seventh Level Questor.
"What I have to tell you is not for general distribution, Questor Dalquist. Do I have your solemn word that what I tell you will remain between the two of us? Neither of us is supposed to know this."
Dalquist clapped a hand over his heart. “I swear on my family name, my Guild Ring and my staff, Shakhmat, that I will reveal nothing to another soul,” he said, without the least hesitation, his face serious.
Kargan nodded. He could expect no more solemn oath from any Guild Mage.
"For many years,” he intoned, “I have had an interest in researching new material, despite the fact that I am no Scholar. During my studies, I learnt of another compendium of incantations: the Libram of Kern. Its name is only whispered by members of the Presidium and, even to the most senior of magic-users, it is little more than a rumour.
"Twenty years ago, as a precocious Mentalist of the Third Rank, I was sent by Prelate Geral on an expedition under the command of Questor Parpat-"
Dalquist nodded. “Ah, yes: If I remember rightly, he was called ‘The Hammer', and he died of-"
"Please do not interrupt, Questor Dalquist!"
Kargan glared at the younger mage, who raised his hands in acquiescence.
"Thank you. As I was saying, I was sent on a Quest under Questor Parpat. It is not one you will find in the ‘Deeds of the Questors', since it involved the treachery of one Prelate Barkan and his entire House. They had seceded from the Guild and set themselves up in opposition to us."
The Magemaster smiled at Dalquist's astonished gape. “I thought that might attract your interest; it's not common knowledge. Suffice it to say that such a situation could not be allowed to continue. We were sent to depose Barkan and replace him with someone more… shall we say, amenable to High Lodge's way of thinking.
"The confrontation between Questor Parpat and Prelate Barkan was spectacularly destructive, as you might expect."
Kargan smiled. “With all due modesty, I will add that my own Spell of Dominance proved a critical factor in our success. However, in the wreckage of Barkan's study, I came across a copy of the Libram of Kern. It meant nothing to Questor Parpat, of course, but I'd heard of it. I secreted the book and brought it back here. It details spells regarded as too dangerous and too capricious to be used by normal mages, even by those of the Seventh Rank.
"For many years, I've jealously guarded this Libram and consulted it at every opportunity. After two decades of study, I believe I understand Bledel's spell in its entirety, and I am willing to try it. That is, if you are willing to submit to it."
Dalquist rubbed his bearded chin as if it itched. “What's involved in this forbidden spell, Magemaster Kargan?"
Kargan shrugged. “I won't pretend this is a simple matter, Questor Dalquist. Our trouble, so far, has been that we've been chipping around the edges; we've been trying to access your memories from the inside, trying to break through a barrier.
"This spell translocates the caster and the subject into… well, the technical term is ‘former realities'. It takes them both to a specific moment in the subject's past, so that the blocking event can be viewed by both parties as external observers, outside the constraints of the subject's memory. From the spells I've already tried on you, I know both the when and the where of the matter. All we need now is the what."
Dalquist held out his hands, palms upwards. “It sounds almost tailor-made, Magemaster Kargan. What's the downside of the spell?"
"It will take an enormous amount of energy from me,” the Magemaster replied. “Also, the least miscast may mean that we become dislocated in time, drifting through the whole period of your life like wandering ghosts while our physical bodies moulder and crumble into dust. You'll understand why I don't feel up to casting it at this time. My staff is almost dead, and I'm flat beat as far as spellcasting goes."
Dalquist lifted his own staff. “Magemaster Kargan, Shakhmat, here, is fat with stored magical energy. In an instant, I could pass you as much strength as you could accumulate in a week. We Questors need a lot of power for our spells. If you're prepared to try it now, while the mood's upon you, I'm more than willing to take the chance."
Kargan sat down and rubbed his forehead. If there was one thing he had learnt in his long life, it was that Questors were, above all, profligate and powerful mages, expending inordinate amounts of energy on each of their strange spells. He felt it might be better to attempt the potentially hazardous spell while the mood was upon him.