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one who said it: we've got a mission to fulfil. What do we do?"
Grimm rubbed his brow, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders.
For the first time, he realised truly realised the meaning of authority. For
the first time in his life, he knew he could look to nobody else to make a
decision for him; even Quelgrum stood silent, looking to him for guidance.
This was his call, and his alone.
The young man felt small, incapable and helpless for a few moments. He felt
horrified that all these older, more experienced men sought his guidance, but
he knew he must be strong, even if he had no idea of how to proceed.
Quelgrum told you what to do, back in Crar! he reminded himself. "Don't try to
do everything; delegate what you can't do! Guy is just waiting for you to
make a fool of yourself; don't give him the satisfaction of floundering.
He felt the first stirrings of a plan in his mind, and smiled.
"Right, everybody, pay attention! he said, unconsciously mimicking Quelgrum's
military style. Even if the General noticed this, he did not betray the fact
in his face.
"Going back inside Mansion House will soon turn us into smiling idiots; we
know that. On the other hand, the Pit will be opening soon. Tordun is probably
in there, so that's where we'll go. It sounded so simple to Grimm, almost
idiotic in its simplicity; but it was a plan of sorts.
"And just how are we supposed to control ourselves in there? Guy's tone was
as sour as it ever had been. They've got these bloody pheromone things in the
air there, as well as in the main house."
Grimm yearned for Quelgrum to interrupt with some Technological insight or
advice, but the General did not speak. The Questor cleared his throat, trying
to buy a little time for thought.
This stratagem did not work; his mind seemed no clearer, and all eyes were
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still fixed upon him. It felt as if it were time to say something; anything...
"Mansion House makes us happy, and the Pit makes us angry and overconfident,
he said at last. I'm hoping we can turn those feelings to our advantage. The
young mage wished he felt more confident about his hastily-assembled
half-theory as the other members of the group stared at him.
"They're going to be looking for us, he continued, sure of this fact, at
least. They expect us to be at the Pit tonight, so they can spring some sort
of surprise on us. We'll be there, but ready for action."
He began to realise he was enjoying this. If they want a fight', they've got
one! he cried. We're not going to stand in line, like good little boys;
we're going to barge in with full force. All right; I know there are no swords
or daggers, but use your imagination. Punches, knee-thrusts into the groin,
head-butts, anything! Don't worry about the really big fellows; Questor Guy
and I will take care of them."
"Thank you so much, Brother Mage, Guy muttered. What about these wonderful
magical wards they seem to have?"
"Don't worry, Questor Guy! Grimm crowed, borne on a natural wave of emotion
that owed nothing to pheromones. They certainly don't seem immune to a Mage
Staff, and the only spells we've tried on them so far are Compulsions: other
magic may prove more effective.
"We have three Mage Staves between us, and two of us have more lethal spells
in our armouries than mere Compulsions. From what the barman said, I get the
feeling they think mind-magic is our limit; they won't know what hit them!
Stand by; the Pit'll be opening soon.
"Don't worry: judgement is at hand!"
Guy shrugged and rolled his eyes, while Crest and Numal gave feeble cheers,
even if their manner was a little florid.
"Not bad, I suppose, Quelgrum drawled to Grimm, out of the hearing of the
other men. You could always have said Glory or Destiny awaits; that's
always a good one."
"I have no idea how this works, General, Grimm, muttered, his cheeks white
with suppressed anger and embarrassment, but I'm doing the best I can."
The old soldier smiled and spread his hands wide. I'm only jesting, Lord
Baron; I'm with you. The best form of defence is attack; that's the oldest
dictum of war I know. We're unprepared; we're nervous, and we're angry, and
you're still trying to be the charismatic commander. Trust me: it doesn't suit
you right now, although it may work better later on. A simple let's go works
better in just about all cases."
In a louder voice, the General said, I'm with you, Lord Grimm. Let's go! As
Quelgrum had said, this motivated the men better than pompous rhetoric.
As one man, they surged towards the milling crowd in front of the Pit doors.
Grimm felt unsure of what the outcome might be. He realised that the team had
moved outside their mandate by risking the outcome of the Quest, just to save
one man who might be in no danger.
Mr. Chudel might flee from the destruction of the Pit, and Grimm's group might
never learn where Lizaveta had gone. However, the Questor did not care. He was
not acting for honour, for the poor, duped souls who trooped here every night,
or even for the Guild, but for Grimm Afelnor. He wanted destruction; he wanted
revenge for having been turned into a smiling fool.
And, by the Names, he would have it.
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Chapter 31: Let's Raise The Roof!"
A large group of fight-lovers had already begun to assemble outside the Pit,
but the young mage felt in no mood to wait in line; he eyed the heavy, oak
doors, with a view to affecting a simpler, more expedient method of entry. He
still harboured worries about the ever-present pheromones in the building's
atmosphere, but he kept these doubts to himself.
I think a little ventilation would be just the thing, Grimm thought, assessing
the building's destructibility. Although the walls of the Pit were constructed
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of solid, unyielding stone, the mage guessed the high, domed roof was
suspended by timber alone. He remembered the previous night's revelries, when
the invisible Master of Ceremonies had exhorted the audience to cheer, as he
introduced a pair of combatants: "Ladeez n gennelmen, let's really raise the
roof for the next two fighters!"
If they want the roof razed, who am I to argue? An open-air spectacle will be
just the thing!
He saw a pair of figures running towards them. He recognised the more slender
of the two men as Keller, but he could not identify the Pit-master's scarred,
bulky companion.
"Ah, gentlemen, I was afraid we'd lost you, Keller said, wheezing a little.
Although the bald man seemed nonchalant, his trembling hands betokened
nervousness. I see you couldn't wait any longer. Of course, we don't normally
open up for another hour or so, but I'm sure we can make an exception for our
most honoured guests..."
"Thank you very much for your kind offer, Keller, Guy drawled, continuing to
stride towards the dark grey edifice. We would greatly prefer to affect our
own entry, if you have no objection."
Keller's broad smile now seemed a little strained, his brows knitted in
incomprehension as he trotted beside the Questor. The Pit-master appeared
quite ludicrous, making small, hopping movements in an attempt to keep up.
Grimm relished the slender man's apparent bafflement, noting that Guy had used
Mage Speech for the first time since the group had arrived at Mansion House;
this meant that serious business was at hand.
"I don't understand. What do you mean by affecting your own entry', Guy?"
"To you, worm, I am Questor Guy,' the mage snapped. Your foul deception is
discovered, so you may abandon all pretence of amicability. This is your last
exposition, Keller. The show is over."
Grimm saw the Pit-master's face turn from pink to white in a few seconds, as
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