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beyond measure.
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"We'll give you aerial transport out of here, and down to the plain."
Xylox made an elaborate show of studying his immaculate fingernails.  I
presume you will allow us to mull over your terms for a while; shall we say
ten minutes? I warn you that I may have counter-proposals of my own, and you
may not find them appealing."
"Believe me, wizard ... I mean, mage, the guard said, correcting himself as
the Questor's expression darkened,  I'm more than happy to accept a little
give and take, as long as you accept our basic conditions."
"Ten minutes, then, Haven lackey, the senior mage said.
"You may return to your fellows, he added, as the guard showed no sign of
movement.  I prefer that we discuss your proposal without you looking over our
shoulders."
The man hesitated.  If you were to exchange me for Administrator Armitage, it
would be a sign of good faith on your behalf. The grey-haired guard's voice
held more than a trace of hope.
"Unacceptable, the mage replied.  If you are as willing to die for your
leader as you have indicated, holding you to ransom might provide little
surety. Go, and allow us to deliberate in peace."
The guard backed away slowly, frowning, but he departed in any case. Xylox
turned back to face Grimm and the two warriors.
"What is your assessment of the terms offered, Questor Grimm?"
Grimm rubbed his aching temples. The pain in his head was not helped by the
intermittent flashing of the overhead illuminations.
"They have Drexelica, he said, shrugging.  There is no telling what they
might be prepared to do to her."
"We are engaged in a war with Technology, Questor Grimm, the older
thaumaturge intoned.  In a war, there are often unfortunate casualties. I
would remind you that our first duty is to our sworn Quest. The fate of one
larcenous street waif is of little import, compared to the well-being of our
Guild. Have you forgotten your Oath so soon?"
Grimm felt anger at Xylox's callous attitude rising like acrid bile within
him, but he forced himself to keep his tone civil and courteous.
"Questor Xylox, I have not forgotten my Oath; I acknowledge my duty to our
Quest, even if it be my last. Nonetheless, I also have a duty to this young
girl, and I cannot accept that her potential death, torture, ravishment,
enslavement or disfigurement is a trifling, insignificant price to pay for our
success. I ask your leave to ascertain that she is unharmed before we commit
to any course of action."
Xylox shook his head.  At this moment, we seem to have the upper hand. The
girl is of little account. If I were to allow you to leave, I would be
surrendering a far more potent playing card. I cannot, and will not, allow
it."
Grimm's anger boiled over.  You talk of living, breathing human beings as
playing cards, insignificant tokens to be gambled at will. You have already
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told me how you will ensure that I am finished as a Guild Questor; I cannot,
therefore, be such a great asset to you. You openly despise and belittle me at
every opportunity, even though you only survived our enforced conflict by
recourse to the extra reserves of energy you held in your staff."
The older magic-user opened his mouth to speak, his face suffused with red
ire, but Grimm stepped closer to him, cutting the mage off with a furious
gesture of his hand.
"Xylox the Mighty, he hissed, in a low voice so that the warriors might not
overhear what passed between the two Questors.  You have taken evident glee in
implying, on many occasions, that you have the very power of life or death
over me, but you have already told me that I might as well be dead. I will
assist you as best I am able on this Quest, but not at the cost of Drexelica's
life; is that clear? I ask your permission as Senior Questor to ensure that
the girl is well, and to secure her return, but, if you deny me, I will defy
you.
"Are you still so certain that you can defeat me in open magical combat? I
think not. I do not wish to oppose you, but I have nothing to lose. I would
almost rather die here than be stripped of my hard-earned status as a Guild
Mage by some faceless Conclave. I ask your permission, and I would far rather
that I had my Senior Questor's approbation for my actions than his refusal. I
would sooner fight the minions of Armitage than my brother mage, for I owe
you, at least, the respect due to your rank, whilst I owe these slaves of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]