It's as if they're under some magic to do so.'
Dalquist nodded. 'I checked the crowd with my Sight. They are under a spell, a powerful one. I believe this is intended to create the impression of a normal market crowd. We must all tread carefully here.'
'Could Starmor have been alerted to our presence by the Eye?' Grimm asked, worried. Their careful plans could fall apart if the Baron knew their intent.
'I don't think so,' Dalquist replied. 'I get the feeling this is some form of madness that happens every day, perhaps for Starmor's conceit and amusement-who knows? Nonetheless, we must be on our guard.'
Harvel nodded. 'I don't like this situation, Lord Mage. If there's strong magic around here, we'd best move as quickly as possible.'
Crest nodded and pointed towards a tall, grey tower dominating the landscape. 'That's the biggest building around here, and I'll bet it's where Baron Starmor lives. Hold on…'
He collared a man rushing past them to the market place. 'Excuse me, sir! Whose dwelling is that imposing edifice? I could not help but be inspired by the magnificence of the structure.'
The man struggled for a moment against Crest's strong grip and gave up the fight. He spoke quickly, with what seemed to Grimm a bizarre mixture of desperation and forced cheerfulness.
'Why, that's Great Lord Starmor's tower, good sir,' the beaming man crowed. 'I'd love to stay and chat, but I have urgent errands to run before nightfall. Please excuse me.'
With a wrench, the man tore himself free of Crest's hand and dashed away.
Dalquist sighed. 'Then that's our goal. Let's mill around a little until the sun sets, and then scout the tower.'
Harvel pointed out a tidy-looking inn calling itself The Jolly Merchant. Giving a few coins to a boy standing outside, Dalquist bade him water, feed and rest the horses for a few hours. The boy's face lit up at the sight of the gleaming money. He knuckled his forehead and led the mounts to the stable.
A few patrons sat in the bar, drinking themselves into stupor with the same fanaticism the market shoppers exhibited when pursuing their purchases. Harvel stepped up to a bar staffed by a vigorous, cheerful, rosy-cheeked barman, a ghastly parody of the stereotypical gentle host.
'The very best wishes of the afternoon to you all, gentlemen,' the red-faced man carolled. 'How may I serve you? A lovely day, isn't it? What brings you here? Have you come to trade? The market is in full swing, as you can see. Let's hope the weather holds out, eh?'
The landlord gave no time for the bemused group to respond to his stream of empty questions. Indeed, he showed little sign of expecting an answer as he rushed to bring them four ruddy, foaming ales. He accepted the coins offered by a bemused-looking Harvel with a gracious, cheery smile as he scurried away to serve another customer, who seemed just as happy and loquacious as he.
The cheery inn seemed as much a toy as the frantic market. It seemed that all of Crar's citizens were Starmor's playthings, and the whole city a sham intended to give the impression of a thriving, healthy metropolis when it was no more than a hollow automaton.
The adventurers took their beers to a secluded corner table. 'This place is scary!' Crest muttered, taking a healthy swig of ale. 'It's almost like the people are animated corpses, marionettes manipulated by some crazy puppeteer.'
'They aren't zombies,' Dalquist replied. 'They are as alive as we are, but they're labouring under a hideous, mighty and unremitting spell. I can see it plainly in their auras. We may have our Quest to fulfil and no more, but I for one will not rest until these people are free.'
Grimm engaged his own Mage Sight, and he saw the citizens' magical chains standing out in stark relief.
'It's worse than slavery,' the young mage muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. 'At least slaves are free to rebel, even if it might mean their deaths. These people are just puppets. If Starmor is behind this, I could kill him with my bare hands.'
'Cheerfully,' Crest growled, cracking his knuckles.
'We have little time left in which to recover the Eye,' Dalquist said. 'I suggest we act tonight. Perhaps the townspeople expend so much energy during the day that there will be few wandering the streets after dark.'
Grimm suggested they stay in the bar until it closed. The others agreed, and Grimm offered to remove the alcohol from the blood of the warriors before they acted. 'Well, maybe not all of it, eh, Questor Grimm?' Harvel grinned.
Grimm gave his head an apologetic shake. 'It's all or nothing, Harvel. I'm sorry, but we must have completely clear heads tonight.'
Dalquist nodded. 'Drink what you want now, but you must be quite sober if we are to succeed. I'm not sanguine about the outcome as it is, let alone with drink befuddling our senses or loosening our tongues.'
As he said this, he shivered, and even the hard-boiled Harvel acquiesced.
The beaming landlord kept the quartet supplied with ale, which Crest and Harvel consumed with gusto.
'At least I won't have to worry about a hangover.' The swordsman laughed, draining half the contents of his glass at a gulp.
Grimm sipped his ale, casting surreptitious looks at the other patrons, but none seemed even to react to the group's presence.
Darkness fell, and the drinking continued; many of the customers matching Crest and Harvel drink for drink, yet never becoming profane or troublesome. As soon as glasses were empty, the landlord was there to offer a refill of his excellent ale.
After it seemed an age had passed, the landlord rang a small bell. The other customers finished their drinks in perfect synchrony and rose as one man, exiting the bar in an orderly progression.
On the faces of several of the drinkers, Grimm recognised expressions of purest relief as they filed out of the tavern. Dalquist frowned at the swordsman and the elf, who seemed to have forgotten they had a mission to fulfil. With evident regret, Harvel and Crest finished their drinks. The landlord, a smiling shadow, appeared at once, cleared the table with efficient speed and then was gone.
Grimm felt as relieved as the other customers seemed, now that the nightmare drinking session was at an end. Despite his earlier misgivings, he felt eager to get the business over and done with. Dalquist nodded, and all four rose to their feet.
Although Crest and Harvel swayed a little as the group exited the inn, Grimm admired their powers of alcoholic endurance; he felt astonished that they were able to stand at all. The cool night air was sweet, and Grimm filled his lungs, the gentle breeze a welcome friend after the stuffy confines of the alehouse.
The streets were deserted, and the only sounds Grimm heard were the whispering wind and the distant, mournful howl of a dog.
Grimm motioned his companions into a side alley. 'It's time to sober up. Are you ready, gentlemen?' he asked as he lifted Redeemer.
'Oh, I suppose so,' Crest replied with deep resignation, stifling one of his mighty belches. 'But it wash… it was good while it lasted.' Grimm drew a little power to himself and whispered 'Tch'ka!'
The two warriors stumbled, and Crest and Harvel clutched their heads, twisting their faces in pain. Each raised his face to reveal bloodshot but undeniably sober eyes. 'Remind me not to take you along next time I go out drinking,' Harvel muttered with a pallid, nauseous cast to his face.
'Beats a hangover, anyway-but only just,' Crest riposted, wiping a bead of perspiration from his ashen face.
'That's enough, you two.' Dalquist assumed an air of imperious authority, which only served to highlight his evident nervousness. 'Keep your ears wide open. Hug the shadows and watch out for city guards.'
'Talking about guards, Dalquist; I imagine Starmor will have quite a retinue,' Grimm said. 'It's not going to be easy to get in.'
Crest opened his cape to reveal a selection of razor-sharp throwing knives and a small crossbow. 'Don't worry too much about guards,' the elf said. 'I can put one of these beauties through a man's eye at fifty paces, so he's dead even before he even knows he's been hit. You're not on your own, you know.'
'Then I'd guess we're as ready as we'll ever be,' Grimm said and sighed. 'Let's do it.'
The party moved through the deserted streets, clinging to fugitive shadows, but seeing nobody as they approached the tower. Stopping in a doorway a few yards from Starmor's domain, Grimm strained his ears for the slightest sound, but he heard nothing. He shivered at the oppressive stillness.
