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could have disposed of Loras suit without recourse to underhand means.
Grimm now knew there were spells that could compel a man to act in a certain
way, whilst maintaining the illusion of unfettered volition. This, at least,
seemed to fit with the facts as he understood them. Nonetheless, it also
seemed that such an enchantment could not have been raised within the House.
He knew also that Loras had been held in great esteem at the highest echelons
of High Lodge, and it therefore seemed improbable that the spell had been
sanctioned by the Lord Dominie; in any case, if High Lodge had disapproved of
the idea of Loras as House Prelate, the Dominie possessed an absolute power of
veto over any such appointment within any Guild House. It was used only on the
rarest of occasions; but it existed, nonetheless.
Once again, Grimm had set up a structure designed to establish the innocence
of his beloved grandfather, beyond a reasonable doubt; once again, it had
proved no more substantial than a house of cards.
Grimm felt exhausted after the exertions of the day, and his brainstem
engaged in mortal combat with his cerebrum for control of his senses. The end
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result was a semi-conscious state, in which concepts, facts, numbers and
images whirled through his mind in an endless, circuitous cavalcade of
meaningless conclusions that demanded his mental attention with ruthless
authority. When full awareness returned to him, weak, pallid rays of early
morning light were creeping into the tent.
* * * *
"I trust you all slept well? the ever-cheery Foster said. An access of
unreasonable hatred flooded through Grimm at the man's indefatigable good
humour, and he fought to dismiss it.
"Quite well, thank you, Foster, he lied, forcing his unwonted hatred back
onto himself at this facile falsehood.
"Islept like a newborn babe, Crest declared.  Those green bags of yours are
wonderful, Foster. I slept better than if I'd drunk myself into a stupor, and
I don't have a hangover to contend with, either."
Tordun looked bleary-eyed and a little unsteady on his feet. The titanic
albino's strong reservations at the prospect of sharing a tent with a nubile
young girl had been plain to see. A man of such scruples, also possessing high
levels of masculine hormones, must have doubted his ability to control his
physical desires when asleep, and perhaps he had chosen to remain awake,
rather than to risk succumbing to dark, primitive inner drives he feared might
overwhelm his sleeping body.
Although the swordsman wore dark rings around his pink eyes, which stood out
in stark relief against his translucent skin, Drexelica appeared well-rested
and almost cheerful; Grimm noted that she did not cast her gaze in his
direction for more than a brief moment.
"Anyway, gentlemen, Foster said.  I admitted to a moment of forgetfulness
last night about why we'd chosen this route; I'd really appreciate some
enlightenment. It's my fault, I know; that bloody crash must have rubbed the
memory from my head. But whatare we doing here? Did I mention it before I took
the chopper out of Haven?"
The irritatingly fresh-faced Xylox shuffled closer to Grimm and whispered,  I
would appreciate it if you would stand by me, in the improbable event that I
should require additional thaumaturgic energy, Questor Grimm. I need to
convince Foster of a matter contrary to his understanding and awareness; I
need to create an entire false history, and this is even more difficult to
achieve than a basic Compulsion."
The young thaumaturge knew the previous night's brief rest had done little to
replenish his depleted reserves, and that he might be of little use to Xylox
in this matter; nonetheless, he had worked hard to build even the most fragile
bridge between himself and the curmudgeonly mage, and he deemed it polite to
comply with his senior mage's request.
"I am at your disposal, Questor Xylox, Grimm whispered.  I will do my best
to fulfil your needs."
The two Questors approached the frowning Foster.
"Do you not remember, Pilot Foster? the senior mage asked, his voice one of
deep concern.
"Not at all, mage, Foster confessed.  I know it was my decision to come this
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way, and I can only imagine that it's something to do with General Q, but I
can't remember a damn thing about it. I only..."
Fluent gibberish spilled from Xylox's mouth, as the senior Questor's twisted [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]