Numal rolled his eyes. "I don't intend to drink alcohol at all, Grimm. I'm not used to it."
Grimm laughed, despite his inner troubles. "You will drink, Numal. I made the same vow as you at my own Acclamation feast. Nonetheless, I became very, very drunk, despite my firm intention to drink as little as possible. The Magemasters advised me to use those spells, and I ignored them, to my considerable discomfort and embarrassment."
Numal gave a serious nod, as if Grimm were a Magemaster explaining some abstruse theorem of thaumaturgy.
"I will do as you advise, Brother Mage," he said. "Thank you."
****
It might be improper to knock at the Prelate's door without prior invitation, but Grimm felt unafraid to do so. He knew heinous acts were afoot within High Lodge, and he felt he must act.
"Enter."
Grimm opened the door, stepping into Lord Thorn's chamber for the second time within an hour. To his relief, he found the Prelate in the same beneficent mood as earlier in the day.
"Questor Grimm, how may I help you?" The smile on Thorn's face was unexpected, but welcome to the troubled Questor.
"Thank you for receiving me again at such short notice, Lord Prelate, but I have news of great treachery within High Lodge."
Thorn sat bolt upright. "You intrigue me, Brother Mage. Do, please, tell me more."
Grimm had no desire to blight the career of a mage before it had started, so he considered his words with care. "Prelate Thorn, I now realise that I experienced an inadvertent journey into the astral realms during my time at High Lodge. There is no doubt of the matter, none whatsoever."
Thorn leaned back into his mahogany throne and frowned. "Believe me, Brother Mage, I would love to discuss this matter with you for several hours in a circuitous, roundabout manner; however, I have many calls on my time. Can we please cut to the chase? If there is treason within our ruling House, I wish to know the details without delay."
Grimm rubbed his left hand over his mouth while he considered what he would say. In retrospect, his story of blood-drinking and cannibalism might appear ridiculous to any right-minded man, but he felt the need to describe it to another person: any person.
"Lord Thorn: at the end of my stay at High Lodge, I had what I thought was just a disturbing dream. On reflection, and after considering my time spent in the fifth linear dimension in Crar, I now realise it was no dream, but a voyage into the spirit realm. A disciple of the Order of The Sisters of Divine Mercy had played a trick on me: an attempt to persuade me to give my love to her."
Thorn leaned forward, frowning. "This was not in your report, or in Questor Dalquist's. Why did you choose not to report it?"
Grimm swallowed hard, spreading his hands apart.
"I considered it a minor diversion: a young girl's whim, Lord Prelate," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Questor Dalquist was of the same mind. I thought it no more than a prank or jest."
"What of this dream?" the older man demanded. "What aspect of it persuades you of treachery within our midst? This is a serious charge, Questor Grimm!"
Grimm's inner being urged him to flee; what he had to say would surely seem ludicrous to an experienced mage like Lord Thorn. Nonetheless, he knew he must release the tension within him, somehow or other.
"I expected the girl to be criticised or chastised in some minor fashion," he said. "In my dream, I saw her scarred, brutalised body carved up and eaten, and her blood drunk by a coven of witches, led by the Prioress of the Sisters of Divine Mercy. I believed this to be a dream, a nightmare, but I now know it to be true, after long introspection. Dark forces are afoot in High Lodge: protected by it, and given a free hand by the Lord Dominie."
Having expected to be excoriated, the Questor felt stunned to find himself instead being congratulated.
"Indeed, Questor Grimm; that is a most worrying matter. I worried about that particular Order for some time, and I applaud you for your courage in bringing it to my attention. Your recent promotion means that you will be travelling to High Lodge within the next week, so I advise you to keep your eyes open with regard to the Order's influence. I have suspected the Prioress of dark acts for many years, although I have no proof. I have met her before, and I know her to be a prevaricator at the very least. Since she and her Order are honoured guests of the Dominie, I advise extreme caution. Whatever your conclusions, I instruct you to do no more than to notify me as to your findings, without telling the Presidium, and without discussing it with the Prioress or her Order. If you wish, you may consider this as your next Quest."
Grimm felt stunned by the vehemence of Thorn's reply, but gratified; it seemed the Prelate's mind was more aligned with his than he had expected. His head seemed to spin for a moment, perhaps due to the unexpectedness of being sent on a new Quest so soon after his last.
"You are expected at the Lodge in three days," the Prelate said. "Enjoy yourself until then, but remember to be careful with the Order, and do no more than to gather information; take no action against them. I order you to restrict yourself to that goal."
"I will, Lord Thorn." Grimm had faced demons, autocratic warlords and assassins, but he had always had the option of defending himself as he saw fit. This particular mission would be like an intricate game of chess: a subtle game he had never mastered. He only hoped that it was a game at which he would prove adept.
As he turned to go, Grimm heard one more comment from Lord Thorn. "Enjoy yourself tonight at Necromancer Numal's party tonight, Questor Grimm."
Is there anything here Lord Thorn doesn't know? Grimm wondered.
He bowed and exited the chamber, his earlier elation replaced by disquiet and worry. He rubbed his right temple, which had begun to develop a faint but nagging ache.
Perhaps I've been pushing myself too hard, the Questor thought. A little recreation might be just the thing.
A new mage's Acclamation was something to celebrate, so Grimm vowed to put his worries behind him until it was time to leave.
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Chapter 5: Rivalry and Revelry
Grimm arrived for Numal's Acclamation feast in plenty of time. His own ceremony took place within an hour of his Mage Staff prevailing against the magically sharp and immutable edge of the Breaking Stone. In Numal's case, it would seem either that such swift preparation had not been possible, or, as was more probable, that the Acclamation of a new Questor was regarded as a more significant event than that of a humble Necromancer.
The feast was to be held in the upper gallery of the East Wing, affording a bird's eye view of the Great Hall. Grimm saw several places laid at the great, round banqueting table, but far fewer than had been laid for his own celebration.
Grimm heard footsteps behind him, and he turned to see the acerbic Magemaster Faffel, under whose stern instruction he had studied Courtly Graces. The Magemaster wore sky-blue silk robes, and an ostentatious gold cummerbund sought to contain a bulging waistline. A tall, black hat, topped by a peacock feather, perched precariously on Faffel's burgeoning, jet-black hair, which looked ludicrous in contrast to such a lined, ancient face.
The young mage suppressed a groan, since Faffel's presence meant that he would feel constrained to use the formal, starchy tones of Mage Speech throughout the feast. He had had enough of this in his previous Quest, under the ascetic Xylox.
Faffel's small, yellow eyes scanned the Questor, searching for the least imperfection in his apparel or his bearing, but, at the end of his scrutiny, the old Magemaster gave a slight, grudging nod of approval.