The youth had been recalcitrant and impertinent at times, Xylox thought, but only when he was rebuked and pressured by his senior. It might be very bad for discipline to dress down the young Questor so many times in the presence of Seculars. And he could not deny the pleasure he had felt in exerting his superior rank over the youngster.
Xylox was a Questor of the old school, loyal to his House and his Guild unto death, but he had always prided himself as an even-handed and fair man. Had he been fair to Questor Grimm? On the very first occasion the two mages had met, Xylox had taken one look at the young Questor's gaudy, expensive attire, and he had taken an instant dislike to the boy. He had considered Grimm a dilettante; a primping fop.
Xylox fingers caressed an angry, red weal on his right cheek, a legacy of the unwilling battle Armitage had forced the two mages to fight.
The boy is indeed powerful, and I was untruthful when I implied that he had not hurt me in our fight, the Questor thought, feeling a cold, queasy unease at the knowledge that he had lied to a fellow mage.
Why have I felt such disregard for the boy? I have been excoriating him for his ease with Seculars, his taste in clothes and a freely-admitted interest in Technology. With the possible exception of inviting the thief-girl into our midst, he has acquitted himself well in this Quest. It would be to the detriment of our House if I were to allow my personal prejudices to taint the career of such a promising addition to the fold.
"Questor Grimm; I am sorry," Xylox whispered, after a very long pause. "Let us not dwell on the past. We may have a difficult road ahead of us, and I would rather travel it in a spirit of co-operation and mutual respect. I swear it, on my name, and on my reputation as a Mage Questor.
"From now on, I will seek to rebuke you only where your acts and attitudes impact on the conduct of the Quest. Let us start again, in the interests of amity and good relations. Should you proffer me advice, I promise to give it a fair, even-handed assessment, and I will take it in the spirit in which it is given."
The older mage extended his right arm, and, for the first time, the two mages clasped hands; if not in friendship, then in a closer understanding between them.
"I also apologise, Questor Xylox," Grimm said. "I, too, may have been blinded on occasion by false pride, and I commit myself to the successful conclusion of this Quest as your loyal aide, advisor and fellow mage."
It seemed like a new beginning, and the Questors' hands remained entwined for a few moments, before they disengaged and sat opposite each other. A few moments of contemplative silence passed before Xylox spoke again.
"Have you any concerns to relate to me, or any advice, at this time, Questor Grimm?"
Grimm seemed to relax, as if all tension had been released from his body. "I do have one concern, Brother Mage," the youth admitted. "You have persuaded Foster that all is well at Haven, and that we are all happy, deluded slaves of Armitage. I imagine the General will arrange transport for him back to the mountains, once he has delivered us. What do you think will happen when he arrives to find Haven desolate and deserted? These people seem to have Technological means of communicating over long distances in an instant, and it might not go well with us if this deception were uncovered."
Xylox bent his mind to the issue; the youth had raised a valid and worrying point. "You would perhaps recommend some sort of… accident for our Technological friend?" he hazarded.
The young sorcerer shook his head. "Foster is our passport into the General's demesnes; we need him. After our exertions, we both lack the strength to persuade him to delay his departure by magical means. I suggest we find more mundane means to compel him to put off his return to Haven. Have you noticed how he seems a little unsteady on his feet, and, perhaps, a trifle confused? Dehydration must be the cause; he is in no condition to travel."
Xylox found a rare smile creeping across his face; this Questor was more resourceful than he had at first thought.
"I must admit to some concern at Brother Foster's infirmity, Questor Grimm. Perhaps he is in need of a… spell of convalescence. I will brief the other members of the team to this effect; I am sure that we can reach a consensus on this issue."
"Foster said that a vehicle would be despatched to us in short order; I suggest that we work together on this. One of us also needs to convince Foster of his infirmity; I think that Tordun might be an excellent choice."
"Tordun?" Xylox exploded, a frown on his face. "He despises Foster with a passion, as do I!"
Grimm essayed a faint smile, his lips cracked and bleeding. "Just so: he can say that he realises now how ill the flier has been, because he had been so diligent in carrying out his mission. I do not think Tordun will enjoy expressing tender concern for Foster, but he is, nonetheless, intelligent, and I am sure that he is a reasonable actor. Words of pity from our white-haired colleague might work better than an impassioned plea from either of us."
"Very well; you may tackle Tordun, and I will ensure that the other members of the team are alert, on their guard, and of a like mind by the time the conveyance arrives here. I admit, still, to some misgivings as to how we will defeat the General, but we will cross that bridge when we reach it. Let's get started!"
Xylox realised he had lapsed from his usual, formal, Mage Speech for a heartbeat, but he no longer cared.
Yes; even this inexperienced Questor is worth more than a disparate group of Seculars, he thought.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 21: Rescue!
"I feel perfectly all right, Tordun!"
Tordun shook his head, his lips pursed and his eyebrows raised. "That is the trouble with the sun's rays, Foster," he said. "They can affect a man without his knowledge. I recommend that you try not to over-exert yourself for a couple of days, at least; we have all suffered much, and I think we owe it to Armitage to be in the best condition if we're to serve the General well."
Foster looked around him. The other members of the group all stood outside the open flap of the tent, wearing similar expressions of concern and worry.
"Well, I don't really know what you're talking about," the pilot grumbled, "but I suppose I might have caught a touch of sunburn without knowing it."
Xylox nodded. "Better that you stay out of the sun until the General's men arrive to rescue us, Foster. Do you know how they are to locate us, or how long it may be before they appear?"
Foster shrugged. "That umbrella-shaped device is a radio beacon. They can home onto that through triangulation, they and should have no trouble finding us once they lock on. Those beauties have a transmission range of over a hundred miles in the desert on a clear day; you just bounce the signal off the Heaviside Layer and there you are. There was one of those things in the helicopter, but it was trashed when we hit the mountain."
The two mages, the warriors and the girl looked blank at the pilot's stranger words.
"It'd take too long to explain, I'm afraid, folks," Foster said, shrugging. "Don't worry, they'll find us, sure enough."
"As for how long it'll take, I'd guess that we're about forty miles out; if they're coming by ground transport, I'd guess an hour, hour and a half."
"I can't wait," Crest said. "I thought the mountains were bad enough, but I'd sooner be up in that snow and ice than down here."
****
Two hours or so passed before a small, hazy cloud appeared in the distance. As Grimm watched, it seemed to grow bigger and closer with every minute.
"Oh, yes! That'll be them, all right," Foster said, with a look of immense relief. His old, ebullient self seemed to be coming back to the fore. "I guess they must have been held up for some reason; it's not easy to keep some of these old vehicles going in these desert conditions."