After a few minutes, the swordsman stepped away from the vacant doorway, revealing a tall, grey-haired, muscular man whose bulk was enhanced by a heavy cloth jacket like a long tabard, descending almost to the level of his knees. He wore a grey helmet that encompassed his skull, with various appendages and protrusions extending from the bizarre headgear. Although he wore several weapon holsters and bandoliers, these were all empty.
Xylox stepped into the opening, and Tordun covered the cowering Armitage, who still hunched under his console.
"I will accept nothing from you except your unconditional surrender," Xylox said, folding his arms across his chest. "There is little more to say; you should now know what we can do to you if you dare to oppose us"
"That's unacceptable," the security guard growled. "We have all exits from the hub covered and, even if you should manage to fight your way past us, you would not survive in the mountains. We have a stalemate; we're not going anywhere, and neither are you.
"Every man in the squad is willing to die to defend Haven, ready to give his life to save Administrator Armitage. I wish to discuss terms acceptable to all of us.
"We've seen what happens to men who fire guns at you, but simple slug-throwers aren't our only defence. We have other weapons: potent weapons you wouldn't believe. We've held off using them for the moment, but we'll use them if we have to, even if they kill us along with you."
Xylox turned his strong Questor gaze on the guard, but the grey-haired man matched it in intensity without the slightest blink.
"What terms have you in mind?" Xylox asked.
"Our first condition is the immediate cessation of all hostilities," the guard replied.
The Questor gave a non-committal grunt. "Next?"
"Second condition: you agree to release Administrator Armitage unharmed."
"So far, guardian," the senior mage said, "your conditions seem to be to your advantage only. I trust you have something to offer us in return?"
"I'm coming to that," the guard snapped, wiping a grimy bead of sweat from his right eyebrow. "I'd be grateful if you'd let me present all the terms before you come to any decision."
"Very well; what are your other stipulations, if any?"
"We still have the girl who came with you. We will agree to release her unharmed and unmolested if you'll allow us to take a small tissue sample; I'm told a simple swab from the inside of a cheek should be enough. If you refuse, I can't guarantee her safety."
Grimm gaped; he realised he had spared no thought for Drexelica since he had first fallen under Armitage's technological spell. He was moved to speak, but he held his tongue for the moment.
"If we agree, what can you offer in return?" Xylox inquired, as if bored beyond measure.
"We'll give you aerial transport out of here, and down to the plain."
Xylox made an elaborate show of studying his immaculate fingernails. "I presume you will allow us to mull over your terms for a while; shall we say ten minutes? I warn you that I may have counter-proposals of my own, and you may not find them appealing."
"Believe me, wizard… I mean, mage," the guard said, correcting himself as the Questor's expression darkened, "I'm more than happy to accept a little give and take, as long as you accept our basic conditions."
"Ten minutes, then, Haven lackey," the senior mage said.
"You may return to your fellows," he added, as the guard showed no sign of movement. "I prefer that we discuss your proposal without you looking over our shoulders."
The man hesitated. "If you were to exchange me for Administrator Armitage, it would be a sign of good faith on your behalf." The grey-haired guard's voice held more than a trace of hope.
"Unacceptable," the mage replied. "If you are as willing to die for your leader as you have indicated, holding you to ransom might provide little surety. Go, and allow us to deliberate in peace."
The guard backed away slowly, frowning, but he departed in any case. Xylox turned back to face Grimm and the two warriors.
"What is your assessment of the terms offered, Questor Grimm?"
Grimm rubbed his aching temples. The pain in his head was not helped by the intermittent flashing of the overhead illuminations.
"They have Drexelica," he said, shrugging. "There is no telling what they might be prepared to do to her."
"We are engaged in a war with Technology, Questor Grimm," the older thaumaturge intoned. "In a war, there are often unfortunate casualties. I would remind you that our first duty is to our sworn Quest. The fate of one larcenous street waif is of little import, compared to the well-being of our Guild. Have you forgotten your Oath so soon?"
Grimm felt anger at Xylox's callous attitude rising like acrid bile within him, but he forced himself to keep his tone civil and courteous.
"Questor Xylox, I have not forgotten my Oath; I acknowledge my duty to our Quest, even if it be my last. Nonetheless, I also have a duty to this young girl, and I cannot accept that her potential death, torture, ravishment, enslavement or disfigurement is a trifling, insignificant price to pay for our success. I ask your leave to ascertain that she is unharmed before we commit to any course of action."
Xylox shook his head. "At this moment, we seem to have the upper hand. The girl is of little account. If I were to allow you to leave, I would be surrendering a far more potent playing card. I cannot, and will not, allow it."
Grimm's anger boiled over. "You talk of living, breathing human beings as playing cards, insignificant tokens to be gambled at will. You have already told me how you will ensure that I am finished as a Guild Questor; I cannot, therefore, be such a great asset to you. You openly despise and belittle me at every opportunity, even though you only survived our enforced conflict by recourse to the extra reserves of energy you held in your staff."
The older magic-user opened his mouth to speak, his face suffused with red ire, but Grimm stepped closer to him, cutting the mage off with a furious gesture of his hand.
"Xylox the Mighty," he hissed, in a low voice so that the warriors might not overhear what passed between the two Questors. "You have taken evident glee in implying, on many occasions, that you have the very power of life or death over me, but you have already told me that I might as well be dead. I will assist you as best I am able on this Quest, but not at the cost of Drexelica's life; is that clear? I ask your permission as Senior Questor to ensure that the girl is well, and to secure her return, but, if you deny me, I will defy you.
"Are you still so certain that you can defeat me in open magical combat? I think not. I do not wish to oppose you, but I have nothing to lose. I would almost rather die here than be stripped of my hard-earned status as a Guild Mage by some faceless Conclave. I ask your permission, and I would far rather that I had my Senior Questor's approbation for my actions than his refusal. I would sooner fight the minions of Armitage than my brother mage, for I owe you, at least, the respect due to your rank, whilst I owe these slaves of Technology nothing but defiance. Nonetheless, I will not allow a poor, defenceless girl to be abused at the hands of a group of mindless fanatics.
"With this in mind, Xylox the Mighty, do I have your permission to leave while you seek a negotiated settlement to our quandary? When I have returned with or without Drexelica, you may treat me as you will for my insubordination, and I will not resist. Those are my terms, Xylox Ceras, Mage Questor of the Seventh Rank, called 'the Mighty'; take them, or leave them."
****
Deeks bundled the girl along the corridors of Haven, now with little regard for the ever-present security cameras. He had injected such a quantity of sedatives into her that her feet barely supported her, and she trailed behind him like some awkward, numb appendage, her small hand limp and livid in his firm grip. He was almost beginning to agree with Redmond's advice, that the little bitch was more trouble than she was worth.