Perfuco's acolytes found their voices, and they echoed his sentiments.
Grimm realised he knew none of their names and nothing about them. This was quickly remedied, as the Mentalist introduced Grimm and his companions to the other mages.
As they made to leave, Xylox called out to Perfuco. "Mage Mentalist! My companions and I are without suitable apparel, having left our effects in the Shest Mountains. I would take it as a singular favour if any of you could rectify our current lack; I should hate to present myself before my House Prelate in my current state of dress."
Grimm had all but forgotten his revealing, embarrassing robe, but he echoed the senior mage's concern, as did Drexelica, who now stood with her back to the wall.
One of the Illusionists, a tall man named Mattas, nodded. "I brought several changes of clothes with me from Haven, and I would be happy to help-you have delivered us from dire enslavement, and such a token of gratitude would be the least I could do for my rescuers."
Within ten minutes, Grimm was wearing a simple brown robe, which, at least, left him decently covered. Mattas offered Xylox a similar robe that swamped the Questor, but he was able to cut it down to size with a pair of shears from his pack. Drexelica opted for a blue cloak, which covered her back despite leaving the lower parts of her legs exposed to view.
Hands were shaken, and vows of eternal friendship exchanged, but it was all a blur to Grimm. Questions whirled within the Questor's brain: how had his deception been concealed from Perfuco? How had Dalquist latched onto Quelgrum's plot? How had Grimm maintained his preternatural confidence in his eventual success when faced with such insurmountable odds? These questions demanded an answer, but the young mage waited until Perfuco and his companions left the room.
Dalquist beamed at Grimm, and the two Questors embraced as brothers while the other adventurers looked on. All appeared bemused, except for Crest, who offered the thaumaturge a hearty greeting. This was returned with equal enthusiasm. When the junior mage was sure that no ears outside the room were listening, he addressed his brother Questor.
"Dalquist, it is so good to see you!" he crowed. "How on earth did High Lodge become aware of the General's plans?"
His friend laughed long and loud. "It didn't, Grimm!"
Xylox shot a hard look at the mage, perhaps for Dalquist's omission of Mage Speech, but it seemed he felt powerless to criticise a fellow Questor who bore as many rings on his staff as he.
"Lord Thorn has a few Secular spies in Griven, Grimm," Dalquist continued. "They reported that you had departed for the mountains, and they guessed your eventual destination. When the town was flooded with refugees from that mountain complex-Haven, is it? — he dispatched me to Griven to gather information. It didn't take too long to guess what had happened. The rest, as they say, is history."
"What about this mage army of yours, Questor Dalquist?" Xylox demanded. "Where are they?"
"I don't have one," Dalquist admitted. "I assembled a small group of warriors and misfits and pretended they were the avant-garde of a mighty force. It seems your attack was just in time to convince these people that they were besieged, and that your attack must be of a diversionary nature."
"How did Illusionist Stepan fail to see through this illusion?" Grimm demanded, frowning. "You must surely have known that Quelgrum had mages under his command."
Dalquist chuckled. "Of course I did, Grimm, but I also knew they were all Specialists skilled in the beguilement of the mind; once they encountered a verifiable Guild Mage, I knew they would be on their guard for a magical deception. I gambled that such men would rely on their Sight to tell them of any Glamour or Illusion, to the exclusion of all other considerations. My companions' staves were simple lengths of wood, stained and painted, and their fine robes were supplied from my wardrobe and the Grivense tailors. There was no magical illusion.
"I know Mage Sight cannot distinguish the details of auras beyond a few yards, so I kept the men at a good distance. This Stepan spent all his effort on seeking a magical deception that was not there, so I only had to work to conceal my own deceit. It cost me a fair amount of energy, but it worked."
The normally saturnine Xylox grinned and clapped his hands. "Well done, Questor Dalquist! That was an ingenious stratagem!"
Seeming to remember the dour image he had cultivated at such length, he cleared his throat and nodded. "Yes, Brother Mage; you have done well," he added, in a more restrained tone.
Grimm suppressed a smile.
Our impenetrable super-mage seems to become more human with every hour! Grimm thought.
Xylox turned to face his junior. "Are you not nurturing a viper in your bosom, Questor Grimm? This man, Quelgrum, should not be allowed to live; he has enslaved Guild Mages, and he threatened High Lodge!"
"I think I can best answer that, Questor Xylox," Dalquist said, inspecting his fingernails. "I Saw the General's aura as he assembled his cadre: he radiated relief and happiness, and he is no mage. I would have been able to See any external spell cast on him, and I didn't.
"I Saw some chagrin, to be sure, but not the slightest hint of treachery or deceit. I think Grimm's fiefdom will be well protected, and that the Guild may well have an army on which it can call in times of dire need. Isn't that so, Grimm?"
Grimm smoothed his hair over his pate. "I have not… I haven't even thought about it, Dalquist," he confessed, daring to discard the irksome, formal Mage Speech in the manner of his friend, despite Xylox's disapproving glare.
"I'm just tired, and happy that we've succeeded on this difficult Quest. I think… I know we can trust Quelgrum to carry out his duties to the letter. His men will follow him. If they don't, they'll have to answer to my demon Seneschal, Shakkar. If Shakkar had been here with us, I don't think Quelgrum's soldiers would have stood a chance."
"You seem to have amassed an interesting collection of friends, Grimm," Xylox said, for the first time failing to keep the young Questor at arms' length by the use of a formal title.
"What do you think, Questor Xylox?" Dalquist asked. "Has the boy done well?"
Xylox snorted. "He was an impertinent, insolent renegade. I was ready to have the whelp sent back to the scullery at one stage," he said, his face dark and threatening.
"And now, Brother Mage?" Dalquist's tone was as smooth as wet ice. "Are you still as determined to condemn him to eternal servitude?"
Xylox cast a critical eye at Grimm. "I had already decided to limit my recommendation to a simple rebuke, but Questor Grimm is still impertinent and insubordinate. He lacks discipline, and I cannot be expected to ignore that."
"I served under Questor Olaf, on his last Quest," Dalquist said, and Xylox blinked. "He regaled me with tales of how a young Fourth Level Questor once defied him during a Quest. The same Questor negotiated a trade deal with rebellious Therian merchants who had threatened to blockade all Guild shipments, despite Olaf's explicit veto on any such agreement.
"Questor Olaf told me how that young mage defied him and even swore at him, yet I understand he recommended to Lord Thorn and High Lodge that this callow, insubordinate mage be elevated to a higher rank. That Questor was rebellious, and yet he succeeded-I believe the appropriate term is 'lucky'. Is this Questor not lucky?"
"Perhaps… perhaps he is, at that." His discomfiture was plain to see, but even Grimm admired how the proud mage fought to retain his dignity in spite of Dalquist's baiting.
"Perhaps?" Dalquist said. "Perhaps I could discourse with you at length later, Questor Xylox? I heard many interesting tales from Questor Olaf that I would gladly share with you. Do you care to hear them? Some are quite amusing; even graphic. The dear man can be so garrulous when in his cups."