'My companions and I prefer death to the prospect of becoming mindless slaves,' Grimm said in a cold monotone, subtly inching his way towards Starmor. He would need to touch the demon in order to carry out his spell of Translocation. With his emotions suppressed, he felt certain he had managed to conceal his intent from his enemy.
'You need not fear on that score, mage,' Starmor droned, sitting up straight in his throne. 'I have need of competent souls with their wits intact. I swear to leave your minds unaltered, although I will punish the least transgression with unmitigated severity.
'Serve me in good faith, and I will treat you well. Refuse me, and I will begin my retribution with your warrior friends. They will take their places in the structure of my tower, and their agonies will far surpass any that the most fiendish torturer could inflict; agonies that will last not for hours or days, but for decades, centuries. Agonies that you could never hope to alleviate, although I can stop them in an instant. I have no use for these two creatures, but I will allow them their bodies and their free will only while you obey me. Your first transgression will result in a painful lesson visited upon the one called Harvel; a second will see his soul imprisoned within the walls of this tower. If that does not convince you, I will turn my attentions upon the elf.
'You have done your utmost and lost; accept my generosity while the mood is still upon me. And you may stop where you are! I can tell you have used some sleight to conceal your emotions from me. I wish no further surprises. I warn you: I can protect myself from you with ease, even if I cannot strike you directly. My minions will obey me, regardless of personal risk'
Grimm stopped dead in his tracks as he accessed his Mage Sight: he saw an impenetrable ward, identical to that placed over the tavern, protecting Starmor's throne. His plan had failed and, had he had his full complement of emotions, he might have felt a dismal, aching pang of despair. However, his desensitised mind flew through a series of ideas and concepts that whirled through his head like detritus swept up in a hurricane. He was no dilettante or fairground conjurer. He was a Questor, capable of casting any spell he could imagine and that he had the strength to cast. Surely he could defeat Starmor!
Grimm guessed that the mighty ward surrounding his enemy required the utmost concentration and power to maintain: Starmor must be using all his energies to keep his magical defences at such a high level, as well as imprisoning the mighty Shakkar. Nonetheless, the mage knew the ward was far beyond his capacity to breach with magic. Not the slightest waver, mote or fissure in the magical wall was apparent to his Sight; the ward was in the form of a sphere, protecting the demon from all sides. It seemed Starmor was justified in his confidence! A massed attack by Grimm and his companions would only augment the power that Starmor could devote to his protective wall, since the demon could draw upon the naked emotions of Dalquist, Crest and Harvel to amplify his native strength.
A series of scenarios devoted to persuading Starmor to drop his protective shield whirled through Grimm's head in an instant, until a promising approach brightened into crystal clarity.
Grimm could not teleport into the interior of the ward. His Questor magic could not penetrate it.
But what of the Eye's power? Dalquist told me it filled the land. Walls and physical barriers were as nothing to it. Even a full Conclave of Mages could only hope to hold it at bay, but could not extinguish it. Perhaps I could ride that unstoppable wave of energy into Starmor's personal ward! Perhaps…
Realising that enthusiasm, a human emotion, had begun to invade his fortress of impassivity, Grimm knew he must terminate the interview at once; he needed a further application of his herbs. He fought to keep his rising emotions and growing visceral unease hidden. He had no wish to draw upon the herbal smoke while Starmor watched him.
'Starmor,' he said, 'Although I find your offer unpalatable, I see little chance of defeating you. I accept that complying with your odious conditions may be the only choice I have; however, I wish to talk to my friends before I agree to your proposal. I trust I can show them that it is the best choice they have.'
Starmor drew himself up luxuriantly on his velvet-upholstered throne. 'I offer you thirty minutes to convince them, child, and no more. At the end of that time, you will be brought here to submit or to become a part of my tower's harmonious decor. As a sign of your fealty, you shall bring the Eye to me, unshielded and unmasked. I will accept no blustering or excuse: the Eye is the only token of your compliance I shall accept.
'Thirty minutes, and no more, remember. Hear the sweet songs of my vanquished foes. A mere gesture from my hands can make the music louder and sweeter, like this!'
He made a casual gesture and the low moaning became a confusion of anguished screams. 'Half an hour, mage, and not a moment longer!' Starmor shrieked. 'You shall be my vassal, or my amusement; it is all the same to me. My forbearance is at an end!'
With another gesture by Starmor, the tortured keening rose still higher in pitch and in volume. Grimm forced himself to bow low and back away from Starmor slowly. Once he had gained the far side of the portal, he fled back to the tavern.
Chapter 9: Thribble Speaks Out
The group of ensorcelled guards parted impassively as Grimm entered the inn, closing ranks again as he closed the door. Dalquist stepped forward to greet the mage, who shook his head
'So your plan was unsuccessful,' the older man said. 'We both knew it was a risk. Tell me what transpired between you and Starmor; perhaps we can salvage something from the situation.'
Before replying, Grimm lit his pipe and gulped down more of the acrid smoke, sucking it into his lungs as if his life depended on it. His mind began to calm, and he nodded to the senior mage.
'Dalquist,' he said, 'I cannot reach Starmor. He is surrounded by a bubble of force like the one he placed around us. It extends into the walls and floor of the tower, so that assaults from all sides are precluded. Starmor's terms are that we surrender the Eye and submit to him as servants with our wills intact, or to join the tortured souls in his tower; hardly an appealing choice to have to make.'
'Did you agree to this, Grimm?' Dalquist asked, perhaps suspicious that Grimm's will might have been subsumed by Starmor's magic.
Grimm shook his head. 'Of course I did not, Dalquist! For all Starmor's promises to leave our minds untouched, he must consider us too dangerous to be left untamed; he will almost certainly break his word as soon as he has the Eye back in his possession. We have twenty-five minutes in which to announce our decision and no more. I do not think that our friend Starmor will offer us an extension. Nonetheless, I may have the germ of another plan.
'Starmor must have been weakened by our previous attack, and the strain of maintaining his powerful ward must be considerable. I believe that, even in his weakened state, a frontal assault against the ward will be unsuccessful. At the first sign of hostility, Starmor will order the Crarians against us en masse, and I doubt even we can prevail against such an attack.'
Harvel grimaced. 'So far, mage, you don't quite fill me with confidence. What is this marvellous plan you mentioned?'
'Patience, Harvel,' Grimm said, sighing. 'Dalquist, from what you told me, the Eye seems to be able to penetrate all but the most potent magical shields. What I wondered was if it would be possible to follow its rays of power to the interior of Starmor's ward; to hitch a ride on the power of the Eye, so to speak. I fancy that even Starmor would have to relinquish his ward in the face of a determined direct attack. Otherwise, why does he need it to protect himself from us?'
Dalquist rubbed his forehead. 'Your idea may have some merit, Grimm, but I do not know how it can be achieved. The Eye seems to work on no principle I can fathom; its power is like nothing I have ever encountered. To ride such waves would require an understanding of their form and feel. I don't know how to do this, and I don't think you do, either.'
Grimm felt a movement in the pocket of his robes, and a small head popped into view. Grimm had all but forgotten the presence of Thribble.
'The Eye is not a human periapt,' the demon declared. 'It was fashioned by demons your fellow mages summoned for the task. It is beyond your mortal skills to do as you have suggested. Only a demon or its master can access its powers directly. For a human to do so might require months of undisturbed study.'
