The warlord laughed. "Risk is, and always has been, my life, Perfuco," he said. "I built an army out of stragglers and malcontents, and I moulded them into a disciplined, effective fighting force, any of whom will fight to the death at my least word of command. I managed this by assessing the abilities and qualities of men and women, and encouraging them to develop self-respect and pride. I fear no man; not even you, Perfuco, Pacified or not. And don't forget that you'll be there, too, as well as an armed guard."
Perfuco sighed, running his fingers through his thin, greasy hair. How could he convince his superior of the danger posed by a pair of Questors? Perhaps a cold, logical argument would work better than an emotional appeal; the General seemed to thrive on risk and danger, regarding any warning as an enjoyable challenge.
"Sir, I cannot understand why you have changed your mind about me being present at the meal," he said. "It is quite beyond me that you do not wish me to be there; I can access my Mage Sight in an instant and tell you if they are under full control, before they can do any mischief. For the Names' sakes! I see that each mage still has his Mage Staff!"
Quelgrum drained the dregs of his glass, and smacked his lips in an appreciative gesture before he answered.
"From what you told me when you joined us, Perfuco," he drawled, putting down the empty glass, "I couldn't have taken those sticks from them anyway. I'm not losing my mind, old friend; I'm not sure I buy this tale about Haven's comms being knocked out by snowstorms, either. Tomorrow, I'm going to send an expedition to find out. There's a video link to the room, so you can keep an eye on them through one of the monitors."
"General, be reasonable," Perfuco pleaded. "Mage Sight does not work over your video cameras. I would be of no more use to you than an ordinary private soldier."
"The main reason I don't want them to see you for the moment," Quelgrum said, "is that they were almost certainly sent to bring you and your friends back; I doubt they'll do much without proof that you're here. You forget, Colonel, that I've already been alone with these people. They've had ample opportunity to kill me already, and they didn't do so. If they see you, they'll know you for a mage straight away; if they're not Pacified, they'll be on the defensive at once; if they are, then I've gained nothing.
"I want to see them in the raw, as it were; it's a challenge to me to see how you folks tick. I've taken on street hoodlums, thugs, drunkards and berserkers, and I've turned them into loyal, disciplined soldiers with the force of my mind alone. From what you've told me, these guys are just pawns in High Lodge's game; virtual prisoners and slaves to their House Prelate, or the High Dominie. I almost hope they have slipped their conditioning somehow, so I can persuade them to join me of their own free will!"
Perfuco noted the broad smile on Quelgrum's face; he knew the General could not be deterred when he had made his mind up about anything. The Mentalist gave his head a resigned, rueful shake.
"Very well, General; as you wish. But I insist that you allow me to put your personal guard unit on maximum alert-will you at least let me do that?"
Quelgrum smiled.
"If that will make you happy, Colonel," he said, "then feel free. However, I find it hard to believe that these guys want to strike me down in cold blood. I don't want you setting foot in the room unless I'm in obvious danger; is that clear, Perfuco?"
"Yes, Sir: your orders are quite clear."
The Mentalist had tried to convince his superior of the danger posed by the Questors, and he had failed. As a full, Guild-trained mage, he was not one to give up without a fight.
If the General wanted to play games with these two mages, then so be it; however, he, Perfuco would make sure that, if anything happened to Quelgrum, then the mages and their friends would never leave the complex alive.
****
At last, Thribble managed to catch hold of the fugitive thought that had been flitting around his mind like a frightened bird; all of his cogitation up to this point had involved trying to move outside the cart, and he had been unable to do so. However, the answer now seemed so obvious!
With a smile on his small, grey face, he blinked out of the world. After a few moments, he reappeared in the mortal world and fell several inches to the ground. In front of him, he saw a pair of green-garbed humans pushing a cart and arguing as they receded into the distance.
Instead of trying to move himself, Thribble had done the exact opposite; he had just hopped into his extra-dimensional alcove and waited, maintaining the same position in space relative to the mortal world. The imprisoning cart had just moved through him. He was free!
The demon eyed the stark, anonymous corridor, with no idea of where he was in respect to his human friends, or anywhere else in the strange complex. However, at least now his mind was free from the numbing terror of immolation that had sapped his strength of purpose earlier.
****
It seemed to Grimm that his head had only just touched the pillow when he started awake to the sound of a sharp rap on the door. In an instant, he was alert and sitting upright, as a pair of soldiers entered the room. One was short and thin, with shoulder insignia that marked him as an officer; the other was of average height, with a pair of chevrons on each sleeve. Both men bore Technological weapons.
"Gentlemen," the officer said. "I am Captain Van Geld, and I am to escort you to dinner with General Quelgrum; my colleague is Corporal Schmidt."
The Corporal nodded, but Grimm saw little respect in the gesture. The man had a small, slit-like mouth and an expression which hinted at depths of cruelty and ruthlessness lying just behind his scarred face. The captain had a more cultured air, but Grimm did not need to resort to his Sight to sense the cold, steely core beneath the polite veneer.
Grimm stood, and pulled his uniform as straight as possible, and his three companions made similar attempts to improve their appearances. The Captain nodded his approval.
"The General is a great man," Van Geld said, in a voice that told of heartfelt dedication and admiration, as well as a hint of envy. "You are privileged indeed to be invited as dinner guests on your first day here."
"Believe me, Captain," Xylox responded, in the smooth, diplomatic tones he seemed able to assume and discard at will, "we all appreciate the honour you have bestowed upon us. The General has done a splendid job of maintaining such an impressive and well-disciplined operation in a hostile and forbidding environment like this. He must be a master administrator."
Van Geld gave a curt nod, as if such praise were the only possible reaction when one was confronted by Quelgrum's meticulous, efficient force.
"Indeed he is, magic-user," he said. "We are all in his debt, and we would all deem it an honour and a privilege to give our lives for him; every one of us."
The officer's eyes bored into Xylox's, as if daring the Questor to challenge his assertion.
Grimm unfocused his physical eyes and engaged his Mage Sight. He saw no sign of coercion or external control in the man's aura: the captain's sentiments appeared genuine and deep-seated. A swift glance at Schwartz told the same story, although the Corporal's aura was streaked with colours betokening viciousness and spite.
The mage had hoped that all at this facility had all been 'Pacified', to use Administrator Armitage's innocuous terminology. This might have given the two Questors some kind of edge, since a man accustomed to having his thoughts controlled by another might be more susceptible to magical beguilement. However, it seemed that Quelgrum was charismatic enough to motivate people to work for him of their own free will; Grimm found this more than a little worrisome.