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my personal apology on behalf of the Sisters of Divine Mercy, and you may rest
assured that such wicked acts will receive their just deserts."
Grimm stood and gave a fluent, respectful bow.
"Thank you, Reverend Mother. I feel sure you will ensure that justice is done.
The girl is a menace."
* * * *
Lizaveta fumed inside, but she kept her tone calm, almost sweet, as she
addressed the terrified girl lying spread-eagled before her.
"Well, dear Sister, it would appear that things have not gone quite according
to plan."
A muffled voice came from the floor. It was your plan, Reverend Mother."
Lizaveta leapt to her feet and screamed at the hapless Madeleine, How dare
you talk back to me, you incompetent little slut? Apologise at once!"
"I apologise with all my heart, Reverend Mother, Madeleine responded. I
intended no disrespect."
Lizaveta grunted. A simple enough task, or so it seemed to me, she hissed.
You said he was ready to eat out of the palm of your hand. What went wrong?"
"I don't know, Reverend Mother, Madeleine cried, lifting her head from the
carpet. At one moment, he was a babbling, inanely grinning fool, the next, he
was clear-headed and angry. It wasn't my fault, Reverend Mother. It must have
been some Questor magic."
"Don't presume to talk to me about Questors, girl. I gave birth to one, the
mage who is now Grimm Afelnor's own Prelate! This was no Questor magic of
which I have ever heard. A Questor cannot cast a spell on his own brain, did
you not realise that? No, this must be due to incompetence on your part!"
"Reverend Mother, I know that spell as well as my own name. It was working "
"And then it stopped working! Lizaveta snapped. By the Names, girl, you will
come to regret this ineptitude. By the time I have finished with you, you will
know what discipline is! You may survive or you may not, but either way you
will learn the meaning of true contrition."
The Prioress of the Sisters of Divine Mercy snatched up a stout rod and strode
towards the trembling body of Madeleine.
"What do you say, Sister?"
"Forgive me, Reverend Mother, the nun whispered, her face ashen. Show me, I
beg you, the error of my ways..."
* * * *
Dalquist, sitting with Grimm in the bar, whistled in disbelief at the younger
mage's revelations.
"Who would have thought you could escape a witch ensorcellment with the aid of
spells to ward of drunkenness? he said, shaking his head. I guess Madeleine
made a bad mistake in trying to get the better of a Guild Questor."
A dark look flitted over his face. I hope the Order's punishments aren't too
severe, though. I'd hate to think she'd be badly hurt, even after what she's
done."
Grimm laughed, taking a draught of ale from his glass.
"I don't want that, either, he said, but the Sisters of Divine Mercy don't
sound too severe if they allow the nuns to mingle with members of the opposite
sex and wear Secular clothes. I'd imagine the worst Madeleine will get is a
tongue-lashing and a long prayer session.
"Even so, I'll bet Madeleine must be kicking herself every time she tries to
work out what happened. Books on Guild magic never talk about lowly spells
like those for relieving inebriation! I bet that girl will be kicking herself
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for the next year or more."
* * * *
Lizaveta kicked the prostrate, bloodstained form once more, without response.
Girls these days, she said, have no stamina or endurance. Using her
scrying-crystal, she summoned a pair of trusted Sisters to remove the corpse
in a large laundry-bag. Two further nuns entered and began to scrub the
red-stained floor.
The Prioress watched the women labouring to restore the pristine whiteness of
the carpet and her thoughts turned to young Afelnor.
This youth was not as broad-shouldered and muscular as Loras had been, but she
recognised the immense power behind his dark eyes. She had been a fool to
think that she would be able to control such a potent Questor with such hasty
preparation. Without trying to match wills with Grimm, she had realised that,
alone, she would not have stood a chance. It might take a little more effort
to bend him to her will than she had imagined, but she thought that the
challenge might be worthwhile. Wiping a drop of blood from her brow, she
smiled. She was patient, and she could wait. Without doubt, another
opportunity would assert itself to avenge her further against the man who had
refused her advances so long ago.
Chapter 20: The Last Day
Grimm felt in fine humour the next morning. This was to be his last day at
High Lodge, and he felt far from unhappy at the prospect of leaving. The
sumptuous appointments of the establishment might be impressive and luxurious,
but the young mage found he preferred the more basic comforts of Arnor House.
He agreed with his fellow Questor, Dalquist, that something seemed a little
sick and decadent about this magnificent, ancient institution, and he knew he
would feel happier back home.
At first, he had no idea of how he would spend his day until the evening's
feast, but he eventually decided on visiting the library dedicated to
Thaumaturgical Research, the study of the principles and practice of magic.
Having been so easily gulled by the young witch, Madeleine, he felt determined
to avoid being trapped in a similar fashion at a later date. He hoped that
this library might furnish him with more understanding of witch magic; how to
recognise and counter it, should he ever meet it again.
* * * *
The Location Gem led Grimm to another anonymous door. On opening it, he felt
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