Grimm sighed. After this little scuffle, any self-respecting ruffian in Yoren will be lusting for our blood, he thought. Still, perhaps we'll get a little co-operation when we ask for information concerning the Sisters' whereabouts.
"Right! Let's mount up and move on!" the General cried. "There must be somewhere to stay around here, although I'd sleep with a dagger under my pillow if I were you."
We've been in Yoren ten minutes, and we've already been in a fight, Grimm thought. That doesn't bode well for the rest of our time here. Oh, well, I can't say I wasn't warned.
Let's just hope we can get some information quickly and move on. I don't want to have to stay here a moment longer than necessary.
Nonetheless, as the wagon rolled past, or over, bodies of the fallen, into the grey centre of the town, he felt a certain satisfaction in the way the team-his team-had performed when threatened. It wouldn't do to take Yoren lightly, but Grimm felt confident that, if this was the strongest resistance the group would face in the town, he and his companions would prevail.
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Chapter 25: Sightseeing
As General Quelgrum drove the wagon into the centre of Yoren, Grimm noted that even the sun had fled into hiding behind gathering clouds, making the dilapidated town seem even more depressing. There was a market square of sorts, but, instead of bright stalls with enthusiastic barkers crying the quality of their wares, the mage saw only a few shabby kiosks with long queues of dowdy folk, their eyes fixed on the ground before them as each waited his or her turn.
"I think it'd be better if we camped out on the plain tonight, General," Grimm said. "I'm worried I'll catch something if we stay here."
"I've stayed in worse billets than this, Lord Baron," the old soldier replied, and Grimm shot him a quizzical glance, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Well; not too many, I'll have to admit, and not without an army to back me up. Perhaps you're right.
"Still, I wonder what we're going to do with the wagon and our baggage while we wander around town. We're going to have to get out and walk at some point. Even in a place like this, I imagine that secure lodgings can be bought for some price."
"I could put a magical ward around it, if necessary; a spell proof against any physical incursion," Grimm suggested.
"And that's a nice, simple spell, is it?"
The General's expression was neutral, but Grimm detected a slight but undeniable note of disbelief in his tone.
The Questor thought back to the climactic battle in Crar, when he and his companions had faced a maniacal horde of mindless attackers driven by the will of the demon, Starmor. Questor Dalquist had raised a small ward against the zombie-like horde, one a fraction of the size of that needed to protect the wagon. The spell drained Dalquist of most of his energy in the space of a few minutes. Grimm knew from his tuition in Spell Theory that the energy required for such a sleight was proportional to the cube of its radius. Dalquist's ward had been maybe six feet in diameter. A spell to protect the vehicle would need to be perhaps three times that size; twenty-seven times the energy would be required.
Still greater additional energy expenditure would be involved in casting the spell at a distance-this time, a square relationship applied. Dalquist had been three feet from the periphery of the spell's effect; to move a mere ten yards from the protected wagon would multiply the energy cost of the spell by a factor of a hundred. His fellow mage had maintained his ward for maybe three minutes; every additional minute would add to the energy cost. Grimm knew he was more powerful than Dalquist, but not thousands of times stronger. Even if Questor Guy agreed to share the workload, the scheme was unfeasible.
Dalquist hid the Eye of Myrrn, the Guild periapt at the heart of that particular Quest, in an extra-dimensional cubby-hole. Once an object was hidden in such a location, only minimal energy was required to keep it there. However, Grimm knew the energy required to create and maintain such a hiding-place was again proportional to the cube of its radius.
The Eye was only four inches across. If I were to scale a similar spell up to twenty feet or so, I'd need two hundred and… two hundred and sixteen thousand times the energy.
After a few moments' cogitation, he shrugged. "Bad idea, General; please forget I mentioned it."
"Mentioned what?" The soldier's tone was as good-natured as ever as he steered the horses around a knot of people, who seemed to be queuing for bread and quite oblivious of the approach of the large wagon.
Bringing the vehicle to a halt, Quelgrum called out to the huddled crowd. "Excuse me! Can you direct us to a lodging-house; preferably a good one, with a secure barn or stables?"
Most of the people ignored the General's cry, but one ragged man looked up. "Whassit worth t'find out?"
"Two silvers," Quelgrum offered.
"Gerroff! That won't even buy me a bloody loaf o' bread here! Two gold, an' yer in bizness. I know a good, clean, posh place, wiv stables 'n' ev'ryfing! I'll tell yer fer two gold. Thass me only offer, take it or leave it."
"One fifty."
"You deaf, or sumfink? I said two! Ask me again, 'n' it's two fifty, mate."
Grimm handed the General four gold coins. "Ask him about Lizaveta's coterie," he whispered. "Perhaps we won't need this mythical paradise, after all."
"All right, two gold," the General said to the scruffy man. "Assuming you can guide us to a clean, decent place with secure stables.
"However, if you can tell us about a party of nuns who may have come through here recently, I'll give you four. That seems a pretty good bargain to me."
The ragged man stared at Quelgrum's open hand and its golden bounty. Wearing a smile that exposed a mouthful of multi-coloured, rotting teeth, he stepped out of the milling crowd and approached the wagon.
Grimm defocused his eyes and engaged his Sight; he wanted to be sure that any information given was true.
"You ain't stiffin' me, are yer, guv'nor? Four gold if I tell yer what yer want ter know?"
"If it's worth buying," the General warned him. "I'm not paying a penny for third-hand hearsay."
Grimm scanned the man's aura, finding it the most complex he had ever seen; instead of sheets or streaks of solid colour, he saw a confusing, flowing melange of mental states. Avarice, mixed with distrust, fought for position against brief, furtive islands of basic honesty and boldness. Envy mixed and melded with respect.
"Well, I ain't goin' ter lie to yer, guv'nor," the man said, his eyes flicking back and forth in a furtive manner, his voice low and conspiratorial. "I c'n only tell yer what I 'eard, but I did get it straight from me bruvver Jory. E told me there was a party o' nuns 'ere a couple o' weeks ago, prob'ly lookin' for somewhere nice to stay, just like you. One of 'em was a pretty little fing, an' 'e winked at 'er. Jory says she gave 'im this evil look. Next fing 'e knows, 'e's on 'is knees, beggin' forgiveness. There was this ugly old cow in charge 'o these nuns, and 'e 'ad to kiss 'er ring, like. Says 'e was in a right old state, didn't even know what 'e was doin' or sayin'."
That sounds like Lizaveta's gentle coterie, Grimm thought. "Did your brother say which way the nuns were heading?" he asked.
"Jory says they went up to the Mansion 'Ouse. That's the place I were goin' ter tell you about. It's a right posh old place ter stay; too rich fer the likes o' Jory and me, but I reckon it'd suit gents like you down to the ground."
"Where is this Mansion House?" Quelgrum demanded.
"Lemme see… ooh, it's right on the tip of me tongue… Funny 'ow your mind c'n just suddenly go all blank, ain't it?" The grubby oracle cast a meaningful look at the coins in the General's hand.
"What do you reckon, Lord Baron? Is he telling the truth?"