Behind the guards stood a tall, slender man dressed in loose, black trousers, a white shirt unlike any Grimm had ever seen, and a strip of cloth, knotted at his throat and hanging down his chest. He was tall and slender, with close-cropped brown hair and no beard.
This last shocked Grimm; a beard was the outward mark of a man of importance, and he could not understand why anybody in such a responsible position would want to remove it. The young mage might trim and shape his own whiskers, but he would no sooner shave them off than he would countenance walking around stark naked.
The strangely-dressed man eased the two guards aside. "Thank you, gentlemen; that will be all.
"Welcome to Haven, friends," he continued as the guards strode off, his voice a pleasant baritone. "I am overjoyed to meet you. Although we have many souls here at Haven, it's always a pleasure to see new faces. My name is Armitage, and I'm the Administrator of this facility, for my sins."
Armitage turned towards Xylox and spoke in a warm, friendly voice.
"Lord Mage, I'd guess you are in charge of this group? I am honoured to make the acquaintance of such a distinguished thaumaturge. We see so few mages here." Armitage extended his hand towards the Questor.
Xylox cleared his throat. "I am Xylox Serenac, Mage Questor of the Seventh Rank and leader of this expedition. Well met, Armitage." He took the Administrator's hand and shook it in a gesture that seemed to transcend the gulf between mages and Technologists.
Gruffly, Xylox introduced the rest of his group. "This is Questor Grimm, Fifth Rank," he said "These two gentlemen are Crest and Tordun, warriors."
Turning to Drexelica with open contempt on his face, he added, "This is a thief girl who latched on to us in Griven. I advise you to watch out for your valuables when she is around."
Armitage walked straight past Xylox and approached Drex, who glared at the senior mage with an expression bordering on hatred.
"And what is your name, my dear?" the Administrator asked.
The girl reddened in embarrassment.
"I'm Drexelica," she said, managing a clumsy curtsey. "I promise you, I only ever stole because I was hungry; I won't do it again. Grimm, here, is looking after me now."
"And how old are you, Drexelica?" Armitage's voice dripped with solicitous concern, as if the answer to the question might be of prime importance to Drex's wellbeing.
"I'm sixteen," the girl whispered, her face crimson under the Administrator's intense gaze.
"Sixteen years old; that's charming," Armitage said with a smile. "We don't see many young ladies here. Welcome, Drexelica."
The bare-faced man introduced himself cordially to Grimm, Crest and Tordun in turn. To Tordun, he added, "Master Tordun, would I be correct in assuming that you are hypomelanic?"
"I am an albino," rumbled the giant swordsman, "if that is what you mean."
"It is," Armitage said. "It might interest you to know that we have a very effective balm that can protect skin, even the palest skin like yours, from the worst effects of the sun. If you wish, I'll have one of our scientists prepare a batch for you."
Grimm gaped: he had never seen Tordun smile since he had first met the swordsman. The smile disappeared from the albino's face in an instant, but the mage could not deny what he had seen.
"Thank you, Armitage. I would appreciate that," Tordun said, bowing.
Armitage said, "You seem very young to be a mage, Master Grimm. What sort of magic do you do?"
The Questor activated his Mage Sight again. He saw no indications of any Technology within Armitage's skull, but he did see small grey nodules in the man's aura, indicating either deception or deliberate concealment of something. This alerted Grimm to be on his guard.
"My magic, like that of most Questors, is largely destructive," he said. "We mature young. Well met, Armitage."
The Administrator seemed more than a little interested in Crest. "May I ask where you are from, good Sir?"
"I'm from Drute, Administrator Armitage," the elf replied, his expression revealing nothing, "as was my father. My mother was from Eeranna. In case you are interested, I am a half-elf."
"Interesting… interesting," Armitage muttered, nodding and smiling as he stepped back to face the group. "Well, my friends, I would guess you're feeling tired and grimy after your journey. I understand your travelling bags were retrieved from the mountain and are waiting in some rooms I've had prepared for you. You will stay for the night, won't you?"
Xylox nodded. "We would be happy to do so, Administrator Armitage. Thank you for the hospitality you have shown us."
Armitage bowed. "Please join me at dinner tonight, gentlemen and, ah, lady. If you'll be so good as to excuse me, I have some business to attend to."
One of the white-clad guards stepped forward. "If you folks'd care to follow me, I'll show you to the hab block: that's where you'll be staying while you're at Haven."
As the guard led the group down a bewildering series of passageways, Grimm saw that Haven seemed to be laid out as a series of concentric circles, with straight, radial corridors at regular intervals like spokes on a wheel. The guard explained the layout.
"The circles are numbered from one to twenty, and the segments between the corridors are all in different colours. The corridors have letters from A to AD. As you can see, we're currently in section Twenty Green, heading for corridor G and Blue sector. The hab block where you'll be staying is in section Seventeen Blue, so we'll be taking G corridor, moving towards the hub for three circles and turning right. It's really easy to find your way around once you know the co-ordinates of anywhere."
Several people milled around the walkways. Some were dressed like Armitage, others wore coloured one-piece suits, and a few wore white coats and carried Technological implements.
Grimm mused that none of these people seemed to be under fifty years of age or so. He only saw a single woman, who could not have been younger than sixty, certainly well beyond child-bearing age.
Perhaps this is why Armitage seems so interested in Drex, he thought, shivering at the idea before dismissing it as ridiculous. The Administrator seemed to be a gentleman, even if he were holding some secret.
"Here you go, people," the guard called. "You can use rooms 112 to 116. Your gear's stashed in 112. Administrator Armitage'll be giving you a call in a couple of hours or so, I imagine. Be seeing you."
With what appeared to be a mock salute, the guard strode away.
Room 112 proved to be spacious, comfortably appointed and well lit. A large bed stood in the centre of the room. Opposite the head of the bed, Grimm saw a large, grey square plaque on the wall, whose function was not immediately apparent. The whole wall was festooned with coloured cartouches. At least the function of the bath, visible through a door opposite the entrance, seemed to be obvious.
Once inside the room, Xylox turned to Grimm. "Questor Grimm, what do you make of Brother Armitage?"
"He is hiding something, Questor Xylox. I saw definite hints of grey in his aura."
The older man nodded. "I agree." Addressing the party, he said "We must all be on our guard. The flyer, Foster, had some sort of Technology in his head, and we know Armitage is concealing some ill intent from us. Do not touch any of the Technological devices in these rooms under any circumstances. At all costs, keep your wits about you and be on your guard for any kind of incursion or depredation."
Drexelica turned to Grimm and whispered, "What's the matter, Grimm? I like it here; it's so clean and bright, and Administrator Armitage seemed like a nice enough man to me."
"For once in my life, I completely agree with Questor Xylox," Grimm replied. "Stay alert, Drex. I don't like this place at all."