"I do not understand Questors, Sir," the Mentalist admitted. "Perhaps it is possible, but I doubt it. However, I did tell you they were dangerous, General."
"We seem to have reached an impasse, General," Grimm said, smiling. "Are you prepared to take the risk?"
Quelgrum's expression was sphinx-like, unreadable, and Grimm held his breath. Long moments passed.
"What do I get out of this if you're telling the truth?"
Grimm guessed that the General had not believed his desperate, improvised tale; perhaps he was just testing the water. It was as if he were playing the ancient game of poker, of which Grimm had read in the Scholasticate Library, deciding whether to call the Questor's bluff or fold.
"You have said several times that all you want is a home for your men, General," he offered. "If that is true, I can offer you such a home." The mage kept his tone, his face like stone.
"What sort of home, magic-user?"
"I am the Baron of Crar," Grimm declared, crossing his arms over his chest. He found himself enjoying the game. "It is a large, wealthy city to the north-west of here, and it was under the spell of an evil demon for many years.
"Crar is a tempting target for any hot-headed warlord; all we have to protect us is a small force of hastily-trained militia. I want to ensure that Crar may never again be invaded by anyone. I would not use you to attack, but to protect. You and your men would have a permanent home, for as long as you want it.
"On the other hand, if you seek power, you face only ignominious death. The choice is yours."
No Secular should be able to hold the iron gaze of a Mage Questor, but Quelgrum's eyes stayed locked on Grimm's.
"No," the soldier said. "I don't believe you. Perfuco…"
As the General turned to his Chief of Security, and Grimm resigned himself to a fight to the death, he heard an urgent, female voice from a side corridor.
"Lieutenant Harman reporting, Sir! There's a mage outside. He just blasted his way through the gates, and nobody could stop him. He says he wants to discuss terms of surrender. He says his name's Questor Dalquist, and he says he has an army of sorcerers awaiting his command in the desert! I can see at least thirty of them, all young men, and they don't look happy. Illusionist Stepan confirms that this is no Illusion. He says his Mage Sight tells him that this Dalquist is a very potent mage."
Hiding his astonishment as best he could, Grimm retained his defiant pose. "I believe an ace-high straight flush beats a full house, General," he intoned.
Quelgrum held Grimm's gaze for a few more moments and then he looked away, at last.
"It does indeed," he muttered, nodding, "every time, mage.
"Very well; you win."
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Chapter 32: Truth at Last
Grimm found the anticlimax almost as satisfying as a climatic victory might have been. He administered an oath to the General, scrutinising his aura with his Mage Sight, finding only signs of relief at a long struggle ended. It was evident that the young mage's offer of a permanent home for his men had been accepted with gratitude by the old soldier, who said he would make immediate plans for the departure of his army to Crar. The Questor knew, beyond doubt, that Quelgrum's oath was good.
In the presence of Grimm's group, the General gave strict orders to Perfuco and his four fellow slaves that their primary loyalty was to the Guild alone, completing his instructions with the word "persimmon". This, the soldier avowed, was a post-hypnotic word that released the men from their Technological ensorcelment.
From the confused, lost expressions on the mages' faces, and after scanning the mages' auras, Grimm could see Quelgrum had been as good as his word. The thaumaturges seemed free from their former influence.
Noting a familiar pendant around Perfuco's neck, Xylox held his hand out to the Mentalist.
"I think you are wearing something that belongs to me, Mentalist Perfuco," he growled. "I would be grateful for its return."
Perfuco seemed baffled, but he looked down to see the red gem hanging over his chest. The mage removed the pendant and surrendered it to Xylox, an apologetic expression suffusing his face.
"Forgive me, Questor Xylox. I was not responsible for my actions when I took this."
Replacing his prized amulet, which had the power to repel a speeding projectile back to its sender, around his neck, Xylox grunted.
"No apology is necessary, Brother Mage. Welcome back to our beloved Guild."
The Mentalist bowed. "Questor Xylox; if you would be so kind as to excuse me, I would like to exchange this green garb for something better befitting a Guild Mage."
Perfuco's acolytes found their voices, and they echoed his sentiments.
Grimm realised he knew none of their names and nothing about them. This was quickly remedied, as the Mentalist introduced Grimm and his companions to the other mages.
As they made to leave, Xylox called out to Perfuco. "Mage Mentalist! My companions and I are without suitable apparel, having left our effects in the Shest Mountains. I would take it as a singular favour if any of you could rectify our current lack; I should hate to present myself before my House Prelate in my current state of dress."
Grimm had all but forgotten his revealing, embarrassing robe, but he echoed the senior mage's concern, as did Drexelica, who now stood with her back to the wall.
One of the Illusionists, a tall man named Mattas, nodded. "I brought several changes of clothes with me from Haven, and I would be happy to help-you have delivered us from dire enslavement, and such a token of gratitude would be the least I could do for my rescuers."
Within ten minutes, Grimm was wearing a simple brown robe, which, at least, left him decently covered. Mattas offered Xylox a similar robe that swamped the Questor, but he was able to cut it down to size with a pair of shears from his pack. Drexelica opted for a blue cloak, which covered her back despite leaving the lower parts of her legs exposed to view.
Hands were shaken, and vows of eternal friendship exchanged, but it was all a blur to Grimm. Questions whirled within the Questor's brain: how had his deception been concealed from Perfuco? How had Dalquist latched onto Quelgrum's plot? How had Grimm maintained his preternatural confidence in his eventual success when faced with such insurmountable odds? These questions demanded an answer, but the young mage waited until Perfuco and his companions left the room.
Dalquist beamed at Grimm, and the two Questors embraced as brothers while the other adventurers looked on. All appeared bemused, except for Crest, who offered the thaumaturge a hearty greeting. This was returned with equal enthusiasm. When the junior mage was sure that no ears outside the room were listening, he addressed his brother Questor.
"Dalquist, it is so good to see you!" he crowed. "How on earth did High Lodge become aware of the General's plans?"
His friend laughed long and loud. "It didn't, Grimm!"
Xylox shot a hard look at the mage, perhaps for Dalquist's omission of Mage Speech, but it seemed he felt powerless to criticise a fellow Questor who bore as many rings on his staff as he.
"Lord Thorn has a few Secular spies in Griven, Grimm," Dalquist continued. "They reported that you had departed for the mountains, and they guessed your eventual destination. When the town was flooded with refugees from that mountain complex-Haven, is it? — he dispatched me to Griven to gather information. It didn't take too long to guess what had happened. The rest, as they say, is history."
"What about this mage army of yours, Questor Dalquist?" Xylox demanded. "Where are they?"
"I don't have one," Dalquist admitted. "I assembled a small group of warriors and misfits and pretended they were the avant-garde of a mighty force. It seems your attack was just in time to convince these people that they were besieged, and that your attack must be of a diversionary nature."
"How did Illusionist Stepan fail to see through this illusion?" Grimm demanded, frowning. "You must surely have known that Quelgrum had mages under his command."
Dalquist chu
ckled. "Of course I did, Grimm, but I also knew they were all Specialists skilled in the beguilement of the mind; once they encountered a verifiable Guild Mage, I knew they would be on their guard for a magical deception. I gambled that such men would rely on their Sight to tell them of any Glamour or Illusion, to the exclusion of all other considerations. My companions' staves were simple lengths of wood, stained and painted, and their fine robes were supplied from my wardrobe and the Grivense tailors. There was no magical illusion.
"I know Mage Sight cannot distinguish the details of auras beyond a few yards, so I kept the men at a good distance. This Stepan spent all his effort on seeking a magical deception that was not there, so I only had to work to conceal my own deceit. It cost me a fair amount of energy, but it worked."
The normally saturnine Xylox grinned and clapped his hands. "Well done, Questor Dalquist! That was an ingenious stratagem!"
Seeming to remember the dour image he had cultivated at such length, he cleared his throat and nodded. "Yes, Brother Mage; you have done well," he added, in a more restrained tone.
Grimm suppressed a smile.
Our impenetrable super-mage seems to become more human with every hour! Grimm thought.
Xylox turned to face his junior. "Are you not nurturing a viper in your bosom, Questor Grimm? This man, Quelgrum, should not be allowed to live; he has enslaved Guild Mages, and he threatened High Lodge!"
"I think I can best answer that, Questor Xylox," Dalquist said, inspecting his fingernails. "I Saw the General's aura as he assembled his cadre: he radiated relief and happiness, and he is no mage. I would have been able to See any external spell cast on him, and I didn't.
"I Saw some chagrin, to be sure, but not the slightest hint of treachery or deceit. I think Grimm's fiefdom will be well protected, and that the Guild may well have an army on which it can call in times of dire need. Isn't that so, Grimm?"
Grimm smoothed his hair over his pate. "I have not… I haven't even thought about it, Dalquist," he confessed, daring to discard the irksome, formal Mage Speech in the manner of his friend, despite Xylox's disapproving glare.
"I'm just tired, and happy that we've succeeded on this difficult Quest. I think… I know we can trust Quelgrum to carry out his duties to the letter. His men will follow him. If they don't, they'll have to answer to my demon Seneschal, Shakkar. If Shakkar had been here with us, I don't think Quelgrum's soldiers would have stood a chance."
"You seem to have amassed an interesting collection of friends, Grimm," Xylox said, for the first time failing to keep the young Questor at arms' length by the use of a formal title.
"What do you think, Questor Xylox?" Dalquist asked. "Has the boy done well?"
Xylox snorted. "He was an impertinent, insolent renegade. I was ready to have the whelp sent back to the scullery at one stage," he said, his face dark and threatening.
"And now, Brother Mage?" Dalquist's tone was as smooth as wet ice. "Are you still as determined to condemn him to eternal servitude?"
Xylox cast a critical eye at Grimm. "I had already decided to limit my recommendation to a simple rebuke, but Questor Grimm is still impertinent and insubordinate. He lacks discipline, and I cannot be expected to ignore that."
"I served under Questor Olaf, on his last Quest," Dalquist said, and Xylox blinked. "He regaled me with tales of how a young Fourth Level Questor once defied him during a Quest. The same Questor negotiated a trade deal with rebellious Therian merchants who had threatened to blockade all Guild shipments, despite Olaf's explicit veto on any such agreement.
"Questor Olaf told me how that young mage defied him and even swore at him, yet I understand he recommended to Lord Thorn and High Lodge that this callow, insubordinate mage be elevated to a higher rank. That Questor was rebellious, and yet he succeeded-I believe the appropriate term is 'lucky'. Is this Questor not lucky?"
"Perhaps… perhaps he is, at that." His discomfiture was plain to see, but even Grimm admired how the proud mage fought to retain his dignity in spite of Dalquist's baiting.
"Perhaps?" Dalquist said. "Perhaps I could discourse with you at length later, Questor Xylox? I heard many interesting tales from Questor Olaf that I would gladly share with you. Do you care to hear them? Some are quite amusing; even graphic. The dear man can be so garrulous when in his cups."
The older mage sighed, and his eyes blazed. "Questor Dalquist; I would gladly exchange reminiscences with you, but perhaps it should wait until we are safely back at Arnor."
Grimm affected a fit of coughing to cover the broad smile he felt spreading across his face. He knew the senior mage would prefer some of these memories and perhaps Dalquist, too, to be dead and buried.
"We have more urgent matters to discuss, such as the completion of our Quest," Xylox said, resuming his arrogant, overbearing role as Senior Questor.
"My first duty is to return to High Lodge with Perfuco and his fellows, in order to requite our obligations to the Guild. Questor Grimm, I suggest that you accompany Quelgrum and his army to Crar and deliver a solemn oath of fealty to each man, binding him to the defence of your Barony and the greater needs of our beloved Guild; I trust you to inspect each man's aura, and to dismiss or destroy any whose motive is not true."
Grimm felt gratified that Xylox had modified his opinion of his junior Questor to the extent that he would trust him to carry out such an onerous and responsible duty. Nonetheless, one thing remained to settle.
Drawing the older mage to one side, the young thaumaturge whispered, "Your report to Lord Thorn, Questor Xylox, have you decided what you will say in it?"
Several seconds of silence crawled past.
"I still consider you a disrespectful, impetuous whelp, Questor Grimm," Xylox growled, "but I acknowledge that you are a resourceful and powerful mage, and that our Quest might have been less successful without your aid."
Grimm fought to keep the astonishment from his face; from Xylox, this was high praise, indeed!
"After deep consideration, I find that your contributions to this enterprise have been of some value to the aims of the Guild," the mage continued, in a conspiratorial tone, almost as if discussing treason. "I feel duty bound to declare your many shortcomings in comportment, but my report with regard to your performance will be, on balance, favourable. You need fear no longer for your continuance as a Guild Questor; I feel now that our House would be the poorer for your loss. I shall report that you are injured and exhausted after your efforts on behalf of the Guild. I will recommend that you remain in Crar for a period of at least two months. You have my implicit trust, and I assure you that I have sufficient honours heaped on my name not to exaggerate my own role in our victory. I will also recommend Questor Dalquist for his resourcefulness."
It felt as if a ton weight had been removed from Grimm's shoulders, and the young Questor fought welling tears.
"Thank you, Questor Xylox," he whispered.
"Well met, Questor Grimm," the senior mage drawled. "Now we must arrange our transport. I have no intention of travelling to High Lodge in one of these cursed, Technological vehicles, and so I trust to Questor Dalquist to provide a more suitable conveyance. I leave you to your own conscience in this regard."
"I shall accompany the General and his men in their metal contraptions," Grimm declared. "They will need direction, and I do not propose to walk to Crar"
"What of these Technological weapons and machines?" Xylox demanded. "What will you do with them?"
"I have decided to retain them," Grimm said, meeting Xylox's stern gaze with equal intensity, "but only to be used in the case of direct assault on the Barony of Crar, or on the Guild. I will fulfil my sworn Oath in all regards; these men and their resources are at the disposal of the Guild whenever they may be required."
"Very well, Questor Grimm," Xylox growled, shaking his head. "Much though I loathe all ramifications of this ancient art, I would rather it were used in our service than in the hands of a renegade. I offer you a free hand in this regard. However, I w
ill deal with the detestable Armitage myself; he will die at my hands, but I shall be merciful."
An automatic reaction arose within Grimm to reject this proposal, but he quashed it. Armitage was too dangerous to live; he did not care what he did to any being, so long as it advanced his knowledge. The man was evil, and Grimm could not find any objection to the prospect of Armitage's death.
"Good hunting, Brother Mage," he said. "Armitage may be considered dead already, and I will not weep for him."
Although Grimm had left far behind the insecure boy he had once been, a small segment of his conscience nagged him over his rapid acceptance of the cool murder of a fellow human, no matter how callous.
****
The large train of vehicles stopped short of Crar, at Grimm's command, and the Questor walked the last quarter-mile to the formidable city gates alone.
"Who goes there?" came the challenge from the bastion.
"I am Baron Grimm," the mage replied. "I have brought an army with me. I bring Crar security and safety against any foe. Starmor is dead, and this force will preclude invasion from any other of his ilk. I request free passage for our protective force, which is under my complete command. Send the Mayor; he should vouch for me."
The suspicious face at the ramparts disappeared, to be replaced in due course by that of Mayor Chod.
The Mayor peered at Grimm from the high walls and commanded that the gates be flung wide, without delay.
The Questor breathed a deep sigh of relief. At least he had not been forgotten!
****
Grimm felt irritable and befuddled. All he wanted was a soft bed and surcease, after five exhausting days of interviews at the side of his trusty demon Seneschal, Shakkar. Crar was safe, and the mage wanted nothing more than a comfortable bed, content in his successes. He wanted to be alone.
However, when he finally climbed the winding, softly singing staircase to his chamber, he saw Drexelica standing just inside the open door.
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