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interest throughout the world. A Reader might die before he could select the
correct scroll to save himself from some immediate threat. No Reader can hope
to master the range of magic that a Questor has at his command. Are you saying
that you regret being Acclaimed as a Mage Questor?"
Dalquist vehemently shook his head. I don't regret it at all, Magemaster; it
makes the suffering I endured worthwhile. However, I wish with all my heart
that another, more humane method could be found to bring out a Questor's
skills."
Crohn nodded earnestly. I know now, at first hand, the cruelty that has to be
applied to turn a young boy into a lethal weapon, he said, with a catch in
his voice. However, in the five hundred years since the Guild was founded, no
other method has been found, my friends. Many Scholars have tried, but to no
avail. In the resurgence of Technology two hundred years ago, the Guild even
employed so-called Scientists to research the phenomenon. But these followers
of Technology betrayed the Guild's trust. They sought to use the power for
their own ends and sought to turn our own against us, that none might oppose
them."
Crohn's eyes gleamed with evangelical zeal. For this, he said, his voice
trembling, and for the destruction they wrought in the Final War, we revile
them. We visit suffering on a few boys every decade so we may remain watchful
for the resurgence of that vile art, and for the risk of that woe and anguish
being visited on the world. Questors are the strong right arm of the Guild."
"Does the Ordeal leave heavy scars on a Questor's mind, Magemaster Crohn?
Grimm asked, worried by the Magemaster's vehemence. Wounds deep enough to
warp a man's mind to murder? I would hate to think that I might be possessed
to kill."
"Of course, scars are left. But, believe me, you would not now be undergoing
further training if the Healer had not pronounced you healthy in body, mind
and spirit. Nor would your grandfather Loras have been trained after his
Outbreak, had he not been assessed as fully recovered.
"As for killing, there will be times as a Questor when you will have to
destroy men, sometimes without a moment's thought."
Dalquist nodded gravely. I have some ... personal experience of this, Grimm.
If you kill, and you will, you must always do so with a clear conscience, or
you will destroy yourself with remorse and self-doubt. This is part of the
training you will receive; how to act without deliberation, how to identify
the solution to a problem without thinking."
Dalquist's mouth twisted a little. I have no more love for murder than you
do, Grimm. But, on a few occasions, I have had to kill men. Even though they
would have killed me without a moment's thought, I do often think of this.
Nevertheless, had I hesitated for an instant, I know in my heart that I would
not be here now, leaving evildoers free to spread their filth around the land
and to despoil it as they chose. Only the training I received as a Guild
Questor allowed me to see the true path and to act as necessary for the good
of the House and the Guild."
Grimm shivered at the though of killing in cold blood.
"There, I'm disturbing you, Dalquist said, a lop-sided smile on his face.
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Don't brood on this, just do what you know to be right; do as you are taught
and you will prevail. Take pride that you will be a Questor and that you will
make the right decisions. The Guild has placed its trust in you that you will
do this, and so have I. You have a good heart, and I know enough of you to
know that you would never kill for cruel or evil purposes."
"I will try with all my heart never to betray the trust placed in me by the
Guild and by you, Brother Mages, Grimm declared with fervent intensity. He
had faced mindless, murderous rage during his Outbreak, and he had sworn never
again to let it take control of him. I do want to be a true Questor, and I'll
face the more difficult decisions as best I can."
"That is all that anyone can ask of you, Adept Grimm. Come, now, your meal is
getting cold. Eat up, and we will go back to work. There is a lot of work to
do before you even need to think of difficult decisions. We must go back to
concentrate on your control, and allow you to develop your thought-language
further."
* * * *
After his morning session with Crohn, the Magemaster informed Grimm that a
room was being prepared for him in the West Wing, the traditional haunt of
Adepts and mages-in residence.
"Afelnor, although you are still technically a ward of the Scholasticate, he
said, it is not deemed proper for an Adept to remain in a Student's
accommodation. I think you will appreciate the difference in your
circumstances. Please follow me."
Grimm had passed the West Wing corridor at least twice a day for nine years,
but he had never dreamed of entering it. It seemed strange to be turning right
to go into the West Wing instead of going straight on to the Refectory, left
to the Library, or to his own cell.
The walls of the corridor were tastefully panelled in dark, polished wood, and
Grimm noted portraits of former Prelates of the House and prominent former
mages. The entry corridor opened up into a wide, brightly lit area, tiled in
alternating black and white marble in an echo of the Great Hall.
Crohn led him to an oak-panelled door. This is your new domicile, Afelnor.
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