"Thank you, Lord Prelate, but I was brought up in the ways of the Molachian Church, which forbids the consumption of alcohol before sundown. Old habits die hard, as they say."

In truth, Dalquist had abandoned his religious observances at the age of fourteen, after seven years in the House, but he deemed it impolitic to mention the earliness of the hour.

"A pity," Thorn said. "I trust you will not object if I celebrate your promotion with a small glass?"

Dalquist felt the blood pounding in his veins, and he yearned for Thorn to tell him the details of the Quest. Nonetheless, he smiled.

"Of course not, Lord Prelate," he said. "I appreciate the gesture."

The Prelate poured a good two inches of the golden liquor into a glass and took a healthy draught, smacking his lips.

"You have no idea what you are missing, Questor Dalquist. Do sit down while I savour this excellent liquor: it is too good to hurry."

Dalquist felt his teeth clenching in frustration as he lowered himself into a brown leather chair in front of Thorn's desk, while the senior mage tipped the remainder of the glass's contents down his throat by degrees.

At last, the Prelate put down his empty glass and said, "The House wishes to call upon your services again, Questor Dalquist, as you may have guessed."

Dalquist leaned forward, his blood quickening.

"Have you ever met Prelate Zhar of Brelor House?" Thorn asked.

Dalquist shook his head, tension tightening his throat.

"Lord Zhar states that he wished to give Lord Dominie Horin a special gift to mark his accession to the apex of the Guild. He ordered the construction of a charm he dubbed the 'Eye of Myrrn', after the seventh-age seer. This gem was supposedly intended to allow Lord Horin oversight of all of the Guild Houses at all times. It permits the user to focus on any location or individual of whom he has knowledge."