The General strode into the corridor with a confident air. "By my count, magic-user," he said, "you have killed or incapacitated fifty or so of my men. I have many, many more at my disposal; you cannot win.
"Give it up, mage. You have done well to get this far, but you are finished, I'm afraid. Surrender, and I'll let you live; otherwise, you'll be cut down, sooner or later. For your sake, and that of my men, I'd prefer the former."
Grimm felt cold tendrils of despair writhe within the pit of his stomach, but he refused to let them overwhelm him.
"I offer a counter-proposal, General," he said, surprised at the calmness in his voice. "Release us, free Perfuco and the other mages from your enslavement, and swear to leave the Guild demesnes untouched, and we will stop the attacking force of mages that is converging even now on this facility. It is you and your army who are defeated."
Quelgrum's eyes narrowed. "I don't believe you, magic-user. You've had no opportunity to send any message to your Guild. You're lying."
Grimm laughed and, to his surprise, it sounded unforced and natural. "We Questors have means at our disposal no mere Secular or Specialist Mage can hope to comprehend," he said. "You have guessed that we destroyed Haven, and you are correct. A mere brace of Questors destroyed it: just imagine the destruction ten of us could do. Now, every single Questor in the Guild lands is descending on your army.
"Before we left Haven in ruins, Questor Xylox sent a telepathic message to Lord Thorn, our Prelate, apprising him of your plans. You are discovered."
"Why didn't you say this before, mage?" Quelgrum asked, his suspicion and disbelief plain to see. "You've had ample time to do so."
"I needed to buy time for our own army to assemble, General." The lie slipped from Grimm's tongue with surprising ease. "Your clumsy, Technological attempts to enslave us were no more successful than were Armitage's at Haven, as you have seen; they posed no terrors for us. We were content to wait until the moment was ripe."
The General looked deep into Grimm's impenetrable, dark eyes, and he rubbed a hand over his chin.
"Colonel Perfuco; front and centre!" he snapped. Grimm's heart sank; the Mentalist would be able to detect any lie with ease. The Questor could not hope to conceal his deceit from the enslaved sorcerer's penetrating Mage Sight. Nonetheless, he stood his ground, for what it was worth, as the mind-manipulator hurried into view and stood before Quelgrum.
"Questor Grimm: kindly tell the Colonel what you told me." The General's tone was smooth and confident.
Grimm suppressed his emotions as best he could and said, "High Lodge knows about your impending attack, and an army of Questors is on its way to attack you."
Long moments passed as the Mentalist scanned the Questor.
"Well, Colonel? Is he telling the truth?"
"I… I do not know, General. Somehow, he is hiding his aura from me. I suspect he is lying, but I cannot be sure." Perfuco's brow was furrowed, and he looked uneasy, as if a power on which he had been able to rely all his life had just betrayed him. Grimm suppressed an expression of astonishment, keeping his face neutral.
"Is it possible, Perfuco? Could they have contacted the Guild?"
"I do not understand Questors, Sir," the Mentalist admitted. "Perhaps it is possible, but I doubt it. However, I did tell you they were dangerous, General."
"We seem to have reached an impasse, General," Grimm said, smiling. "Are you prepared to take the risk?"
Quelgrum's expression was sphinx-like, unreadable, and Grimm held his breath. Long moments passed.
"What do I get out of this if you're telling the truth?"
Grimm guessed that the General had not believed his desperate, improvised tale; perhaps he was just testing the water. It was as if he were playing the ancient game of poker, of which Grimm had read in the Scholasticate Library, deciding whether to call the Questor's bluff or fold.
"You have said several times that all you want is a home for your men, General," he offered. "If that is true, I can offer you such a home." The mage kept his tone, his face like stone.
"What sort of home, magic-user?"
"I am the Baron of Crar," Grimm declared, crossing his arms over his chest. He found himself enjoying the game. "It is a large, wealthy city to the north-west of here, and it was under the spell of an evil demon for many years.
"Crar is a tempting target for any hot-headed warlord; all we have to protect us is a small force of hastily-trained militia. I want to ensure that Crar may never again be invaded by anyone. I would not use you to attack, but to protect. You and your men would have a permanent home, for as long as you want it.
"On the other hand, if you seek power, you face only ignominious death. The choice is yours."
No Secular should be able to hold the iron gaze of a Mage Questor, but Quelgrum's eyes stayed locked on Grimm's.
"No," the soldier said. "I don't believe you. Perfuco…"
As the General turned to his Chief of Security, and Grimm resigned himself to a fight to the death, he heard an urgent, female voice from a side corridor.
"Lieutenant Harman reporting, Sir! There's a mage outside. He just blasted his way through the gates, and nobody could stop him. He says he wants to discuss terms of surrender. He says his name's Questor Dalquist, and he says he has an army of sorcerers awaiting his command in the desert! I can see at least thirty of them, all young men, and they don't look happy. Illusionist Stepan confirms that this is no Illusion. He says his Mage Sight tells him that this Dalquist is a very potent mage."
Hiding his astonishment as best he could, Grimm retained his defiant pose. "I believe an ace-high straight flush beats a full house, General," he intoned.
Quelgrum held Grimm's gaze for a few more moments and then he looked away, at last.
"It does indeed," he muttered, nodding, "every time, mage.
"Very well; you win."
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Chapter 32: Truth at Last
Grimm found the anticlimax almost as satisfying as a climatic victory might have been. He administered an oath to the General, scrutinising his aura with his Mage Sight, finding only signs of relief at a long struggle ended. It was evident that the young mage's offer of a permanent home for his men had been accepted with gratitude by the old soldier, who said he would make immediate plans for the departure of his army to Crar. The Questor knew, beyond doubt, that Quelgrum's oath was good.
In the presence of Grimm's group, the General gave strict orders to Perfuco and his four fellow slaves that their primary loyalty was to the Guild alone, completing his instructions with the word "persimmon". This, the soldier avowed, was a post-hypnotic word that released the men from their Technological ensorcelment.
From the confused, lost expressions on the mages' faces, and after scanning the mages' auras, Grimm could see Quelgrum had been as good as his word. The thaumaturges seemed free from their former influence.
Noting a familiar pendant around Perfuco's neck, Xylox held his hand out to the Mentalist.
"I think you are wearing something that belongs to me, Mentalist Perfuco," he growled. "I would be grateful for its return."
Perfuco seemed baffled, but he looked down to see the red gem hanging over his chest. The mage removed the pendant and surrendered it to Xylox, an apologetic expression suffusing his face.
"Forgive me, Questor Xylox. I was not responsible for my actions when I took this."
Replacing his prized amulet, which had the power to repel a speeding projectile back to its sender, around his neck, Xylox grunted.
"No apology is necessary, Brother Mage. Welcome back to our beloved Guild."
The Mentalist bowed. "Questor Xylox; if you would be so kind as to excuse me, I would like to exchange this green garb for something better befitting a Guild Mage."