"They lied to me!” Kargan gasped, still stunned by the smith's words.
Loras’ face twisted into a wrinkled smile. “There are many Guild lies to which you may have to get used,” he said. “This is just one of them! Whatever spells you have that could return my powers to me, I beg you to try them. I have decades of self-doubt to overcome."
Kargan nodded, ruing the normal life which the Guild had stolen from him. Every time he had met a woman for whom he had felt any compassion or desire, he had turned her away without the least thought.
"I'll try it, smith,” he muttered. “I'll try it."
He stood and said, in a louder voice, “Please lie down, Master Loras. If this works at all, I will need your complete attention."
Sighing, Loras stretched out on the sparse mattress, as he had been bidden. “May I ask what you intend to do?"
Kargan, now assuming the role of a House Magemaster, shook his head. “As you will learn, Questor, those of your kind will not always understand all the ways of our Art. What I have in mind is Waorst-gam's Spell of Extraction, followed by Mangold's Cleansing, amongst other incantations."
"I have never heard of them!” Loras said, looking dubious.
"You Questors do not know all the best spells!” Kargan said, with a little sniff. “Lie still and learn, for once in your life, what a humble Mentalist can do for you!"
I don't need a bloody libram or scroll to cast these spells! he thought. I've taught them to many a careless Adept in my time!
"I hope what you say is true, Master Loras,” he said, “If it is, you may become a full Questor in all but title very soon. Please keep any interruptions to a minimum."
As Loras lay on the straw mattress, Kargan took a deep breath and began to chant the first spell.
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Chapter 33: Arrival at Rendale
The wagon crested a rise in the road, and Grimm caught sight of a distant, gleaming structure with a spire at each corner and a steeple in the centre. He found it difficult to gauge the distance of the building, and therefore its size, but he felt sure it must be the Priory.
The Questor pushed his head through the opening in the wagon's canvas, and said, “We had better stay alert, friends; Rendale Priory is straight ahead."
"About time,” Guy grumbled. “My bladder's killing me."
"Well, I suggest you relieve it before we move on,” Grimm said. “That goes for all of us."
"Well, now you come to mention it, Questor Grimm,” Tordun said, “I do feel a little in need of relief myself…"
"Me, too,” Erik declared. “Bouncing around in this cart hasn't done my waterworks any good."
Guy shot a sharp glance at Numal. “What about you, Numal? I hear you oldsters often have problems in that regard."
Numal smiled and shook his head. “Not me, Questor Guy,” he said. “I've never had any trouble holding my water."
Guy's face reddened, and Grimm turned back to Quelgrum, trying to hide the incipient smile on his own face.
"Pull over by that stand of trees, please, General,” he said, indicating a small copse to the left of the road. “I suggest we wait there for Shakkar to return with his report. I think we're close enough just for the moment, and we should be able to hide the wagon and horses from all eyes except those of a flying demon."
Quelgrum nodded. “As you command, Lord Baron,” he said, guiding the horses away from the road and into the wood.
Guy and Erik led Tordun into the undergrowth, while Grimm, Numal and Quelgrum gathered leafy branches to use as a camouflage screen. Although the young Questor felt nervousness twitching in the pit of his stomach, he felt more cheerful than he had for some time. Action was always preferable to inaction, and action seemed to be just around the corner, or, more accurately, just down the road.
Lizaveta stood at her carved podium in the splendid, marble-and-gold Upper Chapel, giving the afternoon Blessing. She had carried out this ritual, almost without fail, every day for the last fifty years.
"Wisdom, enlighten us.” The Prioress did not so much plead with the eternal powers as command them.
"Enlighten and ennoble us,” the rapt, reverent Sisters arrayed before her chorused.
"Inner harmony, suffuse us."
"Nourish us and make us whole,” the assembled congregation moaned, swaying gently as the rapture took hold.
"Discipline, guide us."
"Guide us and show us the way."
"Bless the Anointed Score."
"Bless them and keep them safe."
"True One, perfect guardian, hear our prayer."
"Let Light Eternal rule!” the nuns responded, and Lizaveta breathed in their collective ecstasy as if it were the sweetest perfume. Their joy mingled with the power of the earth beneath the foundations of the Priory and made her strong. It never failed to amuse her that the majority of the faithful lacked the slightest concept of to whom, or to what, they so willingly gave their souls and their allegiance. Suppressing a shudder of almost sexual intensity, Lizaveta forced herself to show a calm, beatific face to her congregation.
"Beloved Sisters,” she crooned, her harsh, crackling voice somehow softened by the collective joy suffusing her. “Dear members of the Anointed Score. I will now hear your petitions, so your voices may be heard. The Order is just, and it cares for its flock."
Sister Judan, the senior member of the Score, stood, her hands clasped before her and her eyes lowered in the approved manner. “Blessed be the One, we have no petitions to present, Reverend Mother.” Her hushed voice carried as clearly through the Chapel as if she had shouted.
Lizaveta nodded. “Bless you all, my Sisters,” she said. In truth, she had expected no woman to raise any kind of complaint; discipline was too strict in the Priory.
"Is there anybody else who wished to address her Prioress, for any reason?” she said, just for form's sake. The Chapel remained as silent as the grave. After waiting for a few heartbeats, Lizaveta nodded.
"Duty Sisters and Petty Superiors, report to Sister Judan for your assignments,” she said. “The rest of you may go to Accusations."
After the afternoon Blessing, all nuns not otherwise occupied were required to engage in a period of Accusations, where they would prostrate themselves one by one before the chosen Confessor. They were then expected to reveal their innermost souls before their Sisters, like an anatomist pinning out the entrails of a dissected creature. After the declaration of each sin and religious fault, the Confessor would give the self-accusing Sister a suitable penalty, ranging from an hour's basic Penitence to a period of ruthless flagellation, to be carried out within twenty-four hours. The punishment assigned was at the whim of the elected Superior.
After Accusation, each Sister in turn was required to reveal any sin or fault in any other Sister of which she was aware. Any transgression previously undisclosed by the named nun was punished with double or triple the severity of a penance levied during Accusation.
"Sister Ellen will take your confessions,” Lizaveta said, assigning one of the milder of the Anointed Score as Confessor. She waited to see if any nun would be so lax as to smile, breathe a sigh of relief, or otherwise betray herself. However, all of her flock retained the so-called ‘custody of the eyes’ and an outwardly tranquil aspect, waiting to be dismissed.
After a few moments more, Lizaveta said, “Go in peace, Sisters. Blessed be the One."
"Blessed be the One,” the assembled women chorused, filing from the Chapel in an orderly fashion, the only sound the rustling of robes.
The only people now remaining in the chamber were four of the Score without current assignment, including the recently-Anointed Sister Weranda. Since her Conversion, the girl had proven to be an excellent addition to the Order, pursuing her duties with zeal, and Lizaveta had rewarded her with the prestigious post of Prioress’ Handmaiden; a confidante and body-servant. The Prioress had not failed to notice the sharp looks the more senior members of the Score gave the new Sister, but it pleased Lizaveta to remind them just who held true power within the Order.