find this General Q? It sounds as if we may need a bigger group.'
'We carry on to Griven, as we are,' Xylox declared. 'Let us see what we can find out there about the General.'
The group mounted up and prepared to move out.
'Just one thing, Questor Xylox,' Grimm called. 'What would you have done if Choan had fully answered all of your questions?'
'I would have told Tordun to make his death quick and painless,' the older magic-user replied. 'He made a bad mistake by taking on a pair of Guild Questors with such inadequate forces. Such stupidity does not deserve to live.'
'He called me 'snowball',' Tordun growled ominously. 'If your friend Xylox hadn't got to him first, he would have found that an even bigger mistake.'
Grimm had new respect for the formidable albino as the party continued south towards the town of Griven. He could tell the pale giant had spoken the truth, even without using his Mage Sight.
Chapter 26: The Market Place
A battered, faded sign announced the outskirts of the town of Griven. Small numbers of huts and houses, seemingly scattered at random, gave way to small groups of dwellings in a regimented, grid-like formation. The rutted road widened out and became smoother the nearer they drew to the town centre. Grimm saw a dilapidated hut at the side of the road, beside which sat a man of late middle age, dressed in dry, cracked leather armour, a dented steel helm and roughly-patched trousers terminating at his knees.
On noticing the group's approach, the man drew himself up from his canvas seat and stepped into the road, a serviceable but heavily-notched halberd held at an angle across his chest. Xylox reined in the party.
'Welcome to Griven,' the guard wheezed, in a voice that spoke of decades of worship at the shrine of tobacco smoke. 'I would like to ask you a few questions as to the purpose of your visit.'
'Of course,' Xylox replied. 'Ask your questions.'
The guard cleared his throat with some difficulty and drew a grubby piece of paper and a stubby pencil from a small leather satchel at his side.
'Are you all together?'
'Yes.' The guard filled in a box on the sheet with laboured strokes of the pencil, his furrowed brow and silently moving lips indicating that literacy might not be his strong point.
'How long will you be staying?'
'We are just passing through. However, we may stay for a day or two depending on how pleasant we find the town.'
The guard ran a finger slowly down the page. 'That isn't on the list, I'm afraid, Lord Mage. Can I say 'three days'?'
Xylox waved his hand in a gesture of mild impatience. 'As you will, gatekeeper.'
'Is the purpose of your visit business or pleasure?'
'Pleasure,' the Questor replied firmly. 'Have you many more of these questions to ask? Our time is precious.'
'Only… forty… forty-three more to go,' the guard wheezed with a cheerful grin. 'Do you have any externally produced or purchased goods to declare?'
'No,' Xylox said. 'But I am a swift reader and writer. If you would be good enough as to give me the form, we might be able to get this over with a little sooner.'
The guard's face assumed an expression almost of panic. 'Oh, no, Lord Mage, I couldn't allow that. Job demarcation, you know.' The guard collapsed into an extended paroxysm of violent coughing.
'We could just ride through,' Tordun whispered to Grimm. 'This old codger couldn't do much to stop us.'
'We don't want to draw any attention to ourselves,' the Questor muttered in return. 'Not all the guards in Griven may be as superannuated as our friend here.'
The mighty albino lapsed into dark mumblings about bloody bureaucracy, and how the best cure for red tape was a good, sharp sword.
The gatekeeper flapped his hands and wiped tears from his eyes, as the paper and pencil dropped from his grasp. He seemed unable to continue.
'Gatekeeper,' Xylox said, his voice dripping with false concern. 'The stress of your responsibilities seems to have laid you low. A glass or two of medicinal brandy would seem to be in order. I appreciate the importance of rigid job demarcation, but if you allow me to complete the form, I will ensure that it reaches the proper authorities. I will be sure to say, if asked, that it was you who filled it in.'
Unable to speak, the guard, his face suffused with red, picked up the paper and pencil, thrust them into Xylox's outstretched hand and staggered off, hawking and spluttering. When the gatekeeper was safely out of sight, Xylox crushed the sheet into a ball and casually tossed it over his shoulder.
'Perhaps we can move on now,' he said, with an undeniable note of satisfaction in his voice.
'You didn't have anything to do with that little episode, did you, Questor Xylox?' Grimm asked suspiciously.
'As I said, our time is precious,' the senior mage replied with an air of sublime unconcern, without answering the question. 'Let us move on.'
Grimm felt certain that his fellow Questor had somehow provoked the poor man's sudden attack, but he deemed it better to avoid further argument.
The adventurers left their horses outside the main market square, in the hands of an ostler plying for trade outside his barn. Xylox seemed pleased that the man took care to give him a detailed receipt, but Grimm felt unsurprised: from what he had seen, this town seemed to run on pieces of paper. On foot, the two mages and their warrior companions strode into the huge, busy market square, and Grimm almost staggered at the overwhelming noise that assaulted his ears.
Vendors lustily extolled the dubious advantages of their various wares from brightly caparisoned stalls, whilst prospective customers seemed determined to broadcast their haggling skills to all and sundry at top volume. The whole market area was covered by a series of vast canvas sunshades, and Tordun doffed his hood, removed his gloves and opened the neck of his costume with a sigh of relief. The warrior's skin regained some of its normal, healthy pallor.
The people of Griven seemed to have little sense of anything but their own business. They would walk erratically, looking nowhere except at the contents of the various stalls, and then lurch to a halt without warning. The lemming-like townsfolk gave Tordun a wide berth, but they barged continually into Xylox, Grimm and the slender Crest. The senior mage lashed out with his staff from time to time, but the oblivious people avoided its avid bite by swerving at the last moment.
Grimm considered erecting a magical ward around himself and his companions, but the spell might place a considerable drain on his store of magical energy. Xylox told him often enough that a prudent mage guarded his strength until it was needed, and the advice seemed sensible.
As a small figure barged past him, Grimm felt a slight tug at his pocket. His right hand shot out and grabbed a small wrist. Looking down, he saw a small, scruffy urchin struggling in vain to get away from him.
As this seemed only to be a small boy of maybe twelve years, he did not want to call down the wrath of whatever passed for the law here in Griven. Nonetheless, he thought that instilling a little fear into the pint-sized would-be pickpocket might dissuade him from persevering with a life of crime that might lead to the gallows when he was older.
'Thief, know that you have attempted to steal the purse of a Guild Mage,' he growled. 'Do you have any idea of the gravity of your offence? I may well…'
At that moment, another of the city's guards arrived.
