collars of enslavement, and he knocked the box from the liver-spotted hand.
Guy-Numal spun around, his face a red mask of fury.
"Just who the hell do you think you are, wonder-boy? I was only joking with
Granddad, here. Just butt out and mind your own bloody business; you don't own
me!"
Grimm felt a hot, angry rush of blood spreading through his face; he might
have disparaged Numal's powers and courage on occasion, but the Necromancer
had, for once at least, acted with great bravery, and Grimm felt the fact
should be acknowledged.
"Just a moment, Great Flame, he said. We both know that Questor magic isn't
Page 153
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
the same as rune magic. Precision is everything with a runic spell:
pronunciation, cadence and tone are all vital factors. Almost any old
gibberish will do for a Questor spell.
"Numal's done a very brave thing here, and it's about time you acknowledged
it! Without his courageous actions, we might all have been killed. As it is,
we've won: we need to get on with our Quest as a team, not bicker about who's
trying to cheat whom! No, I don't own you, but I am in charge of this bloody
Quest, at the behest of Lord Dominie Horin; this is not a democracy, my
friend, and it's high time you realised that!"
Realising he had left Redeemer in the Pit, he summoned it, and it appeared in
his upraised right hand in an instant. Looking Guy-Numal straight in the eyes,
he smashed the staff's brass shoe into the brown artefact with full force,
shattering it into fragments.
"Right! That's it! Guy-Numal cried. You've been asking for this for a while
now. Let's have it out! You and me, right here, right now!"
Grimm's rage evaporated, and he felt only calm. I don't think you're in any
condition to oppose a young, virile Seventh Level Questor, are you ...
Granddad?"
If Guy had had the ability to kill with the power of his gaze alone, Grimm
knew he would be a smoking pile of ash at that very moment. However, the older
Questor's borrowed eyes were the first to look away.
"All right, youngster. You win this time. We'll be having a few words later
on, though; believe me!"
Grimm bit off an acidic rejoinder as the bruised, battered Quelgrum hobbled
into the leafy refuge.
"We've got company, he said. Looks almost like a delegation, but they are
armed, and there are quite a lot of them."
"I'll go, General. The young Questor felt relieved that the General's
interruption had defused a nasty situation. Turning his back on his
still-irate colleague, he strode out of the bushes, holding his head high.
Although the large lump on the back of his head still throbbed, he felt much
better than he had.
As he strode onto the greensward between the Pit and Mansion House, he saw the
General had not exaggerated; a veritable army was approaching. Twenty-five or
thirty green-uniformed men, weapons at the ready, surrounded a short,
white-haired man dressed in a black suit.
His voice full of bravado he did not feel, Grimm cried That's far enough,
gentlemen. You must be aware that your Technological weapons will have no
effect on me. The least assault upon me will bring down a rain of destruction
you cannot begin to imagine."
The short man, his eyes shifting in a nervous manner, stepped forward. I am
Elor Chudel, mage."
So this puny-looking man was the elusive owner of Mansion House! Grimm had
expected a sepulchral figure with eyebrows like lightning-bolts, and he
suppressed an unbecoming laugh.
"I wish to discuss mutually acceptable terms, Chudel said, in a high-pitched,
almost musical voice.
"I am only willing to discuss terms of your surrender, Chudel. You have no
choice in the matter."
"I am an honest businessman, Lord Mage! Perhaps I am guilty of tweaking
people's emotions in order to heighten their enjoyment, but no more than
that."
"You are a filthy, manipulative slaver, Chudel! You are responsible for
torturing men into putting on a bloody, degrading spectacle for the
gratification of artificially enhanced blood-lust. You are a foul carbuncle on
the arse of the human race, and not fit to live!"
"I was weak, Chudel said, spreading his hands wide in supplication. Yoren is
a poor town. I fulfilled a perceived need and put money in the town's coffers,
but I perceive now that I may have been over-zealous. I give you my word that
the Pit will now be an honest spectacle. We will use no more pheromones in
Page 154
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Mansion House and the Pit, and our fighters will be willing volunteers. If
only you will spare us, I will swear to run this establishment on honest lines
from now on."
Chudel's performance almost convinced Grimm; the large, pleading eyes, the
tremulous hint of desperation in the proprietor's voice, and the subtle
quivering of his lower lip spoke of an honest but misguided man, trying to
make his way in an unforgiving world in the only way he could.
However, the mage knew he had made grave errors of trust before: the witch,
Madeleine and her mistress, Prioress Lizaveta among the beneficiaries of his
misplaced beliefs.
Chudel might have appeared a pathetic morsel of humanity, but Grimm now knew
better than to trust blind instinct. Invoking the talent he had had since
childhood, he invoked his Mage Sight. In place of the shifting patterns of
colours he had been able to interpret for so long, he saw a blank, white
nothingness, the sign of witch magic, and he guessed its source.
"If you are trying to gain my sympathy, scum, you are going about it the wrong
way, he snapped. I know you are under the protection of Prioress Lizaveta,
the woman who betrayed my grandfather."
Chudel sank to his knees, his eyes wide. What were we to do, mage? he
pleaded. The Prioress has been Yoren's patron for many years. When she told
us another Questor, the grandson of Loras Afelnor, was approaching, we feared
for our lives. Prioress Lizaveta cast a spell on Mansion House, so that our
minds could not be affected by mind-magic, and she reminded us that we owed
her for her protection. You have no idea what she could have done if we'd
refused to aid her by preventing you from finding her."
Grimm shook his head.
"Save your speeches, Chudel, he growled. Regardless of your complicity with
Lizaveta, this place is an abomination, and I intend to burn it to the
ground."
"You are a monster! Chudel screamed. There are innocent people inside the
House!"
"Then I suggest you arrange an immediate evacuation, Chudel. The audience is
at an end!"
At that moment, a guard launched a stream of bullets at the lone Questor, to
be joined swiftly by his comrades, and Grimm laughed as the projectiles flew
back to their sources, repelled by the invaluable gem he had borrowed from
High Lodge.
Chudel seemed to have a charmed life; as the armed guard around him collapsed,
not one of the small, deadly projectiles struck him.
I must see if I can't buy one of these gems when I get back, Grimm thought,
marvelling at the efficacy of the magical shield Horin had lent him.
He pretended not to have noticed the fusillade, holding Chudel's wide,
terrified eyes in a steely gaze that only another Questor could hope to equal
in intensity.
"You have tried my patience enough, small man, he said. In ten minutes, I
expect to see our wagon at the entrance, with all our weapons and belongings
aboard. If there is any further attempt upon me within that time, I will wait
no longer before visiting my wrath upon you and yours.
"Time is ticking away, Chudel; I recommend that you do not tarry. I rather
fancy that the freed Pit fighters, once they have finished with Keller, will
turn their interest on you."
"What of the countless, blameless employees of Mansion House? Chudel pleaded.
What do you leave us, apart from destitution?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]