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into the road from behind the cover of the trees lining the avenue. Unlike the
shabbily-attired attackers who had welcomed the adventurers on their first
arrival in Yoren, these warriors wore heavy, padded jackets, and the
blued-steel tubes they levelled at Grimm and Quelgrum looked familiar.
"They've got Technological weapons and armour, the General muttered,
confirming the Questor's suspicions as he reined in the horses. No wonder
they can keep the locals in check."
"What's your business here? one of the ambushers demanded as he stepped
forward. His speech was cultured, educated, and free of the heavy Yorenian
accent.
"We need a place to stay, well away from that rat-hole, Quelgrum said,
maintaining a cool, unflustered face as Grimm laid his right hand on Redeemer,
ready for trouble.
"Don't we all? Show me what you've got to offer; all of it, the
cloth-armoured man replied. Don't worry; we're paid well enough. If you can
pay, you should be allowed in. If not, I'd advise you to turn back. His eyes
were narrowed, suspicious.
Grimm held up his bulging money-purse, opening it just enough to show the
gleaming coins within. I think this should be sufficient for even the Mansion
House, he said. If not, I have plenty more to spare; I am the Baron of
Crar."
As the Questor held out his purse, he saw that the guard's eyes widened as
they locked onto the blue-gold Guild ring on his marriage finger.
"Your servant, Lord Mage!"The man dropped onto his right knee at once, as did
his companion. I trust you realise that only people of quality are accepted
here. Please forgive us the intrusion on your contemplation; you and your
companions are more than welcome."
The two men disappeared into the undergrowth as quickly as they had appeared.
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"What do you think was that all about, Lord Baron?"
"I suppose my full purse swayed them, Grimm said, unsure that this was the
truth. Perhaps they just like mages at the Mansion House."
"I heard they despised Guild Mages in Yoren, the General replied. This just
seems a little too cosy for me. In my army, we talk about honey traps'.
They're ambushes too sweet or tempting to resist."
After the depressing spectacle of the centre of Yoren, Grimm felt in no mood
to argue as the increasingly imposing spectacle of the Mansion House hove into
view. Relax, General. He saw my money and my ring; that's all. I'd rather be
here than down in the town, any day. We'll be all right, as long as we keep
our wits about us."
"Hear, hear, Guy cried, from inside the wagon.
Harvel called, Are you going to pay for all this, Questor Grimm?"
Grimm smiled. Of course, fellows! We don't have to slum it just because we're
on a Quest. Keep alert, and we should be all right."
"You're in charge, Lord Baron, Quelgrum said, as the magnificent building
loomed before them, and I'll do as you say. I just hope you're right. These
chaps could be in league with Lizaveta, for all we know."
Grimm laughed. Sometimes I think you worry just a little too much, General.
I'm not going into this with my eyes shut, I assure you. Don't worry; I'll be
on my guard, as will all of us."
As the wagon rumbled under an imposing stone arch, Grimm thought he heard a
muttered prayer or imprecation from the old soldier, although he could not be
sure.
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Chapter 26: A Cheerful Reception
The wagon rolled up the smooth, tree-lined track towards the Mansion House.
Although the Questor's party suffered no further incursions, Grimm's sensitive
ears picked up the occasional muttered voice and rustling sound from the
undergrowth. He suspected that he and his companions had been under constant
surveillance since they started up the winding path.
As the party neared the House, the young mage felt a shiver of awe running
through him. He could not believe the contrast between the grand opulence of
this building and the dingy squalor at the centre of Yoren; it almost made the
fabulous, luxurious High Lodge look like a rather pedestrian town house.
Instead of dull, grey stone, the House seemed to be constructed of lustrous,
iridescent marble, with complex, tasteful details picked out in gold. At the
front of the building, he saw a long, pillared portico or cloister whose
purpose, Grimm imagined, was to enable visitors to remain dry while exiting
their vehicles in the rain.
And all these windows! There must have been over a hundred on the front of the
building alone, and Grimm knew that glass, especially glass of this sparkling,
flawless quality, was an expensive commodity.
Quelgrum's eyes bulged. Where on earth did they get all the money to make
this, let alone to be able to run it?"
Despite knowing the General's question was rhetorical, Grimm answered him.
"All I know is that my stipend as Baron of Crar would barely begin to cover
it, General, he breathed.
Up ahead, he saw a small, windowed kiosk, beside which was a red-and-white
striped pole, barring further progress. As soon as Quelgrum reined in the
horses in front of the barrier, a tall, slender man stepped out from the
kiosk, offering a crisp, faultless salute that, Grimm imagined, would not have
been out of place in the General's army. The old soldier's formal, precise
answering salute seemed to confirm this; the General placed a high premium on
tidiness, order and discipline, and this man seemed to possess great
quantities of each.
As the gatekeeper approached, Grimm took note of the man's immaculate,
dark-blue uniform, similar to that worn by Quelgrum's cadre, with a tightly
knotted strip of cloth around his neck and razor-sharp creases in his straight
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trousers. Mirror-polished black shoes, gleaming buttons and a peaked cap added
to the dazzling effect. The Questor also saw that the watchman wore a
Technological weapon in a leather holster at his waist.
"I see you are a military man, Sir, the gatekeeper said, his pose
ramrod-straight as he held the salute. Staff Sergeant Hamar, at your service,
Sir. Welcome to the Mansion House."
"Stand easy, Staff, replied Quelgrum, slipping back into his martial role
with ease. I am General Sleafel Quelgrum, and my companion is Baron Grimm
Afelnor of Crar."
As with the guards who had accosted the party earlier, the young mage thought
that Hamar's gaze rested perhaps just a little too long on his Guild ring. Ah,
you're just getting paranoid. You've got an over-active imagination, Afelnor,
he chided himself.
"Your fame precedes you, General, the Staff Sergeant said. At your service,
Lord Baron. Hamar's face wrinkled, and reddened a little. I'm sorry, sir;
I'll have to ask you to leave your hardware here. We don't allow offensive
weapons in the House. The same goes for your companions in the back. Staves
and small blades of less than three inches length are all right, but whips,
swords, daggers, cudgels or other offensive weapons are not permitted. I'll
have to search you and the wagon, I'm afraid."
Quelgrum's eyes narrowed.
"Sorry, General, that's not my rule, but a standing order. Hamar's tone
remained deferent and apologetic. I'm sure you understand. Please step down
from the vehicle."
Quelgrum sighed and turned his head around. You heard the man, he called.
Hand em over."
The three warriors and two mages clambered out of the wagon, as Grimm and the
General climbed down.
Hamar carried out an efficient, dispassionate search of each member of the
party and began to deprive them of their weapons. Tordun, in particular,
looked particularly pained as he handed over his broadsword.
As the Staff Sergeant moved to the back of the wagon, Grimm felt the
unmistakable tingle of magical power being unleashed; a large amount of it, if
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