Weapon of the Guild [The Chronicles of Grimm Dragonblaster, Book 2] (31 page)

Grimm found himself giggling like a child. “Madeleine, Madeleine, I would have crawled over hot coals to reach you. You mean so much to me."

Her warm smile suffused his very being. “And you are very dear to me, too, my Grimm. I don't know what I might be without you."

She was like sunshine in summer, warmth in winter, happiness and joy. Grimm marvelled at how quickly his earlier dark mood had passed. He felt so carefree and unrestrained in Madeleine's presence; it was like...

With a decisive thump in some deep region of his mind, Grimm realised the truth.
It's just like being drunk.

He clutched Redeemer to himself and accessed the spells within the staff, the spells he had once thought frivolous and unworthy of a Guild Mage, and the scales fell from his eyes. Madeleine was indeed a beautiful girl, but she was not worth his life, his soul, his oath. He now realised he had been ensorcelled, rather than entranced.

Grimm felt as if icy needles were being inserted into his spine.

"What's the matter, Grimm? Don't you like my new dress?” Madeleine asked.

"Never mind that,” the young Questor snapped, “What have you been doing to my mind?" His tone had become icy cold; he knew what it had been like to lose control of his senses from his addiction to the herbs Trina and Virion, and he was determined that he would never again voluntarily surrender his will to another, or to external forces.

Madeleine's eyes widened, uncomprehending: a picture of baffled innocence. “I don't know what you mean, Grimm. I guess you haven't had much sleep recently, so I forgive you for..." Grimm did not listen to her. Instead, he concentrated on his thoughts. Remembering what Dalquist had said to him the day before, Grimm engaged his Mage Sight and studied the young nun's aura. He had been aware of the colours surrounding living creatures since he had been a small child, and he recognised at once that Madeleine's was unlike any he had ever seen before.

It was as if the young nun were swathed in a perfect, uniform, white shroud, without the slightest flaw, wrinkle or blemish. If the hurt, stunned expression on her face were a genuine window to her inner feelings, the aura should be suffused with crackling, roiling, ice-blue bolts, regardless of any lack of malice or duplicity in her soul. The aura was a shield, a sham construction designed to withstand only the most cursory inspection.

"Grimm, darling, what's come over you? Please, let me help.” Madeleine took his right hand, gently caressing it, and she tried to lock his gaze with her large, sapphire-blue eyes. A few moments before, Grimm would have lapsed into a dreamy delirium, lost in those azure pools of loveliness, but now he felt suffused with real, naked anger. He snatched his hand from her grasp, and thumped Redeemer on the floor with a loud noise that made the other people in the bar stare.

"Stop this sweet, innocent act, Madeleine,” he growled. “You have somehow been manipulating my will. I don't know how you've been doing it; I can only assume that it's some kind of witch magic. However this little trick is done, you can stop it right now; it won't work on me any more. What I want to know is why you were doing it."

The seraphic, dazzling smile dropped from the girl's face, as if a blind had been drawn, to be replaced with an ugly, sneering grimace. The transformation was sudden and shocking.

"Look at the great mage, Gur-Grimm Afelnor—
hah!
A pathetic, panting little boy playing a man's game. Your friend Dalquist is twice the man you'll ever be.” She laughed.

Grimm snatched Madeleine's small hand, none too gently.

"While we're on the subject, what did you do to Dalquist?” he hissed. “I thought his rapid acceptance of our loving little tryst was suspicious; now, I am convinced
you
were behind it." The girl tried to wriggle her hand free but could not do so. Madeleine gasped in pain as Grimm tightened his grip, grinding the small bones together. A well-dressed, burly Secular man stepped up and clapped his hand onto Grimm's shoulder.

"What's going on here?” he demanded. “Release that girl at once!" Without letting go of Madeleine's hand, Grimm turned his head to look at the would-be hero. “This is between the lady and me, friend,” he said in a calm voice. “I advise you to mind your own business." The man's face turned a little pale as Grimm showed his Guild Ring, but the bravo seemed to be no coward.

The Secular turned to Madeleine. “Everything all right, Miss?"

"Like he said, it's nothing to do with you, moron,” she hissed at him in a hateful, vindictive tone. “Now, kindly crawl back under whatever stone you came from!"

Affronted, the man stormed off, shaking his head as if wondering at the fickle ways of women. Grimm nodded. “A wise decision, Madeleine. I'm sure you don't want the whole of High Lodge hearing how you ensnare men's minds ... but let's get back to business. I want to know what you did to Dalquist and me, and why. I have no desire to hurt you, but I will if I must, and I can assure you there are things far worse than physical pain."

"All right!” she snapped, wincing. “Please, let go, Grimm. I won't run, I swear. I am sure you could catch me before I escaped, in any case.” It seemed as if she had abandoned her pretence at toughness. Grimm released the girl's hand, which she flexed and massaged, her eyes screwed up in pain as the circulation returned. He considered casting a soothing spell on the girl, but decided against it.

"Well?” he demanded.

Madeleine drew a deep breath, looking at the table. “I had a bet with some of the other girls that I could get a Mage Questor to do whatever I wanted. I figured that if you became infatuated enough, you would do just that."

"You lost the bet, I'm afraid,” Grimm said. “What about Dalquist?"

"I used a little witch magic on him too, when I saw he was trying to come between us,” she said. “When his guard was down, I planted a little idea in his head that it was all perfectly innocent, and that he had seen nothing amiss."

"Anything else? The truth, now."

"No, I swear, Grimm. That's all. Neither of you will be permanently affected. It was all just a game, a silly game."

"Drop the fake aura,” Grimm instructed. “I want to see that you aren't hiding anything."

"I can't,” she wailed. “It's a part of me. You can check in any Geomantic reference book if you like. I can't turn it on and off."

Her gaze was again on his, her eyes wide and pleading, and Grimm thought how once this expression could have moved him to tears. Now, he was just suppressing a strong desire to strangle the malicious little bitch.

"You made a serious mistake in trying to play with a Questor's mind, lady,” Grimm snapped, in no mood to be mollified. “You doubled your error by tampering with my friend's memories."

"I nearly got away with it, too, didn't I, Questor?” Madeleine tossed her long, blonde hair with a last flash of contemptuous defiance.

Grimm examined his fingernails. “I think I'll be having a word with your superior about this, Madeleine; I'm sure she'll agree that such behaviour is thoroughly unbecoming in a Sister of a respected Order. I'll leave the final decision to her, I think."

All pretence of bravado fled the young nun. Her eyes grew large again, but this time in a plain expression of absolute horror.

"You wouldn't! Please don't Grimm, I beg of you. Please don't tell Prioress Lizaveta. You don't know what she'd do to me,” she babbled in terror, falling to her knees.

Grimm felt a little satisfaction that Madeleine would be punished.

At least her reaction seems real this time,
he thought.
I hope Prioress Lizaveta has her kneeling in
the chapel for a month.

"You made your bed, my darling. You can bloody well lie in it—alone,” he said. He meant it. “Thanks for telling me your Prioress's name, by the way. I'd have been lost without it." Ignoring Madeleine's heart-rending pleas, he took out the location gem and said, “Prioress Lizaveta." Without hesitation, the gem marked out a clear green path for him. He turned to the distraught girl and blew her a kiss, similar to the one she had blown him on their first meeting.

* * * *

Grimm knocked at the door indicated by the arrow-pointed end of the green trail. A dry, throaty “Enter, Supplicant” came from within, and Grimm opened the door, stepping into Prioress Lizaveta's sumptuous, luxurious chamber.

The Reverend Mother was on her feet, her ringed hand extended in expectation. Magemaster Faffel's terse, acrid lessons in protocol and courtesy flashed through Grimm's mind, and he made the required obeisance. After kissing the Prioress's ruby ring, he remained on one knee with his head bowed until the Prioress finally allowed him to rise.

She was now sitting at ease on the divan in the corner of the room, and she motioned Grimm towards a cushioned stool at its side.

"Welcome, good mage. It is always a pleasure to receive a visit from our thaumaturgic brethren. What may I do for you?"

Grimm found the old woman's harsh voice irritating in the extreme, but he kept his expression calm.

“Reverend Mother, I am Questor Grimm. I have come about one of your nuns, a girl named Madeleine."

"Ah, yes, a sweet young thing,” the Prioress crackled. “She told me that she was seeing some handsome young Questor. Such relations are not forbidden to our Sisters, as long as they keep to the bounds of propriety, so you have no need to ask my blessing."

No doubt, Lizaveta was trying to sound maternal and soothing, but Grimm found her voice repulsive to his sensitive ears.

"Are you aware that Sister Madeleine is a witch?” he asked.

If the Prioress was shocked at the question, she hid it well.

"Several of my flock are practitioners of Geomancy, Lord Mage,” she said. “So long as they are used only in devotion to our cause, the Order's Regulations do not proscribe such arts." Grimm laid Redeemer on the floor beside him and folded his hands across his stomach, the fingers interlaced.

"Reverend Mother,” he said, his voice stern, “I am now aware that Sister Madeleine was using her magic in order to infatuate me, to make me dependent on her, so I would obey her every whim. She also cast a spell on a fellow Questor, to fox his mind. Do your Regulations have anything to say about that?" His tone was rather brusquer than he had intended, but he was fuming with anger at Madeleine's acts and at his own foolishness. “I was on the point of becoming some drooling, love-struck fool before I managed to extricate myself."

The Reverend Mother's mouth compressed into a thin slit and her eyes narrowed.

"Indeed, Questor Grimm?” she hissed. “Such actions will not be tolerated by the Order; the girl will be taught the error of her sinful ways, I assure you."

Grimm bowed his head. “Thank you, Reverend Mother. I entrust her to your justice and commend her into your hands."

Lizaveta's face twisted into a hideous mask of pure fury. “Oh, yes, Questor, she will rue the day she was born; make no mistake about
that
. Please accept 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 for the next year or more."