After several minutes spent in hustling the semi-comatose female through the corridors, he reached his goaclass="underline" the unoccupied Cell Block One. For as long as Deeks could remember, the unit had been unused; nonetheless, he knew that its various computer terminals in the Admin Area were fully maintained, in case the derelict cell block might ever be needed for potential malcontents.
This made him smile. He, Technician Deeks, the arch-malcontent, would use this place of confinement as his power base.
He let the girl tumble to the floor as he took his security pass from his pocket, sweeping it through the card slot with a practiced gesture. The high-pitched beep and the red light showed him that he was refused entry even from this disregarded area. The Technician frowned. It seemed as if that paranoid bastard, Terrence, had contrived to block his access to even the most remote zones.
"Come on, girl," muttered the tech, grabbing the supine female's hand once more. "It looks like we need a little social engineering here. A little time on a terminal, any terminal, and I'll have everything I want."
He dragged her back down the corridor, muttering under his breath.
****
"Since you appear intent upon this lunacy, Questor Grimm," Xylox muttered, rubbing his beard, "I have decided to allow your request, despite serious misgivings to the contrary."
He paused for a few moments, enunciating his words with care. "With regard to your dismissal from the Guild, I have decided that your magical talents may well be of some little worth, after all. Perhaps your worth as an asset outstrips, on balance, the risk posed by your irreverent attitude. On our return, I offer to recommend that Lord Thorn issue you a severe reprimand for insubordination. I will recommend that no further action be taken against you.
"I make no secret of the fact that I disapprove of your often reckless attitude, Questor Grimm. However, I recognise you as a powerful and capable magic-user, and it seems to me that your dismissal might, perhaps, represent a tangible loss to our Guild."
Xylox's tones were measured and solemn, as if his conclusions had been reached only after deep reflection, but he knew only too well that Prelate Thorn would be unlikely to dismiss one of his three prized Questors to the House scullery because his superior had found him to be defiant and confrontational. Such qualities were almost expected of a Guild Questor. Xylox remembered only too well the heated arguments he had had with his own superior, Questor Olaf, called the Demonscourge, over the unequal partition of booty after his second Quest.
Questor Grimm's mouth fell open, until it seemed as if it might hit the floor.
"I thank you, Questor Xylox," he breathed, "from the bottom of my heart. I wish only to serve the Guild to which I have sworn my allegiance, but I cannot allow myself to ignore the dictates of my conscience. Your consent will allow me to follow both courses. Thank you."
Grimm's dark eyes gleamed, as if he had been reprieved from a death sentence at the very last moment, and Xylox assumed the weary expression of a man who had struggled for many a long hour with his troublesome conscience. The senior mage stepped towards the huddled Armitage.
"You, excrement, are still our prisoner," he hissed. "Warrior Tordun, I ask you to attend. If Armitage moves from this spot, you have my permission to kill him; indeed, I expect you to do so,"
Tordun leered at his cowering captive. "It will be my pleasure, Questor. The only reason the worm still breathes is because I thought his knowledge might be of some use to you. If not, I'll be only too happy to terminate his miserable existence."
Armitage's face was ashen, but he said nothing. All fight seemed to have left him.
Grimm, seeming rejuvenated by his reprieve from banishment, swung around to face the skulking Administrator.
"You: Armitage!" he barked, his face grave. "Where is the girl, Drexelica, being held? Tell me now, or I will make you beg for death. I can do this with less trouble or time than it takes me to blow my nose, and I will do so with pleasure, should you demur."
Armitage staggered to his feet, and his mouth worked to no effect for a few moments, before his voice became audible.
"She… she's in Lab Three, Black Seven, mage. She's not scheduled for surgery until this evening; I'll tell Technician Redmond to cancel the operation, if you like."
The Administrator moved his right hand to a wheel on the panel at his side.
"Keep your hands where I can see them!" the young mage snapped. "You know only too well that I will have no idea whether you are contacting this 'Lab Three', or summoning additional guards. I know how to find my own way to your Black Sector."
Xylox nodded. For the first time since he had met the junior Questor, he wore a smile of approbation on his lips.
This urchin seems to have more presence about him than I thought…
****
Questor Grimm stepped to the empty space where the Control Room door had once been.
"I wish to make an additional demand!" he shouted into the corridor. After a few moments' pause, the guard appeared, still bearing his white flag of truce.
"Are you ready to agree to our terms?" the security man called.
"Not yet," the young mage replied. "You offered to release the girl, Drexelica, unharmed to us, as part of the deal; I demand to see that she is in good health before we commit ourselves to any course of action. This is a point on which I will not move. Armitage will remain here with my comrades as surety against our safe return."
After a long pause, Grimm feared that Drex might already be dead, and that the guard's bluff had been called. However, the grey-helmed man slowly nodded. "Very well, mage. You may go, accompanied by two guards: for your own safety, of course."
Xylox stepped towards Grimm.
"Brother Mage," he said. "I do not think they will cause you any trouble, but I wish to be sure that you will be safe." He held out a red gem on a silver chain, which Grimm recognised as his colleague's prized Charm of Missile Reversal.
"Questor Xylox; I am deeply touched by your solicitude," he whispered, without the least trace of sarcasm in his voice. "I know what this gem means to you, and I thank you."
"I just wanted to ensure the safety of the Guild's investment," the older mage muttered, who did not meet his junior's gaze. "They have already seen that projectile weapons have no effect on me, so I doubt that they will try to use them against me again.
"Remember," Xylox continued, adding a little steel to his voice, "I expect that gem to be returned. This is only a temporary loan."
"I understand, Brother Mage." Grimm suppressed a smile.
Is Xylox's stony facade cracking at last? Could it be that this mighty Questor is displaying signs of humanity?
"I thank you for your consideration, Questor Xylox," he said, keeping his expression respectful.
Grimm stepped into the corridor, striding with confidence and some speed towards the chief security guard, coming to an abrupt halt just in front of him. The guard's face turned pale, but he held his ground.
"Emerson! Tattler!" the muscular man called, and two uniformed men-at-arms appeared. Both stood several inches shorter than Grimm, and their wide eyes betrayed terror.
"Right, you two; take this man to Black Seven, Laboratory Six," the security chief snapped. "He is not your prisoner, and you are not to use any force against him unless he attacks you.
"Well, get on with it, then! Are you waiting for an engraved invitation?"
The guards moved, one to each side of Grimm. The mage looked down at each and frowned.
"I advise you to do as he says," he breathed. "My patience is not inexhaustible."