Dalquist shook his head. 'I imagine Grimm is using his Questor power to raise some kind of protective ward to screen himself from Starmor. I have been thinking about such a screen, and if Grimm can raise one, so can I. Please summon Shakkar with all haste, Master Harvel.'
Harvel sped out of the chamber as if his feet were ablaze.
By the end of an hour, Dalquist had transported himself to the various prisons in which the members of the group had been confined: Shakkar's pillar; the mockery of a fencing school in which Harvel had been forced to defend himself against a horde of skeletal swordsmen; the perverted school in which Dalquist had fought five magic-users attired as Magemasters; and the arena where Crest had battled a group of blank-eyed armoured gladiators.
He found no trace of Grimm in any of them.
Dalquist clasped a hand over his eyes, as if this could force his mind to work more quickly. Despite cudgelling his brain, he could not think of anything that would help the situation. At that moment Harvel sat on the bed, to be rewarded with an indignant, high-pitched squeal from the pocket of Grimm's sateen robes, followed by the emergence of a tiny head with a face contorted in annoyance.
'Be careful who you are sitting on, human! You nearly squashed me!' the indignant Thribble complained. 'I prefer to be awakened from slumber in a more decorous fashion. What are you all doing here, and where is the young spell-caster?'
Dalquist gave the demon a terse summary of the situation, as much from courtesy as from an expectation that the minuscule creature would be able to aid them.
'Ha! So Grimm was foolish enough to try to face Starmor one more time!' Thribble squeaked in his piccolo-like voice. 'My counsel would be to advise him of his folly, and to bring him back with all haste.'
Dalquist all but ground his teeth in frustration. 'The problem, Thribble, is that we cannot locate him within Starmor's fourth-dimensional labyrinth. I feel sure he must be there, somewhere, but I cannot conceive of a spell to pass this barrier between our respective worlds.'
The minute demon squeaked in exasperation. 'You still have this Eye of Myrrn thing, do you not? Use it to locate him, and to return him to this world.'
'Only a powerful demon can use the Eye, Thribble. Shakkar, here, has no power of magic left to him and, with the greatest respect, I doubt that you hold sufficient power to use the gem.'
Thribble was outraged. 'I may be small, but I am a true demon nonetheless,' he trilled. 'Power is not the issue here, mage, but simply talent. Since this item was made by my kind, I should be able to use it, despite my small size. If you were to form a mental link with me, you would be able to see through my eyes, listen through my ears and speak through my mouth.
'From what you say, we have few alternatives. Bring forth the gem and I will seek the Questor's soul.'
Grimm felt near the end of his tether as he tried to maintain a position of solemn meditation on the cold, tiled floor of Starmor's travesty of a place of worship. The loud, swirling dissonances of the invisible organ were becoming unbearable. He had been determined to fight for as long as he was able, but such defiance now seemed pointless.
He could visualise the spell that he needed to dissolve his physical being without releasing his inner drives for the use of Starmor. His energies lay in a tidy, linear array ready for use. All Grimm needed was one more utterance, and his struggle would be over.
Grimm Afelnor, attend to me!
At first, Grimm thought Starmor was attempting to communicate with him, but the demon lord still gyrated in ecstasy to the discordant tones reverberating through the dark chapel. The tone of this mind's voice was different and recognisable; it was surely the voice of his friend, Dalquist.
We are almost ready to attempt your rescue, Grimm. Remain calm; deliverance is at hand. I'm sure I can have you out of there in a moment, as soon as I can use the Eye to pin down your exact position in four- dimensional space, and find a suitable spell.
Grimm felt a cool flood of blessed relief that his plight had been discovered, and that Dalquist had not assumed he had flouted his duties and his responsibilities. Nonetheless, the young sorcerer was concerned that his folly not be repeated.
Dalquist, I have been foolish in the extreme, and I beg you not to risk repeating my stupid error. I was idiotic enough to think that I could outwit Starmor, and I have failed miserably. Starmor seems to have some kind of demonic link with me; I used that to travel here, so I have no idea where it is. I assumed he was on the pillar, only to find myself here.
Please be careful in your choice of spell. I worry that the use of a straightforward Translocation spell to extricate me could unleash your emotions through the spell, and that it could supply our enemy the strength that he needs and craves.
We will talk more about stupidity later, Grimm, his friend replied. My first priority is to get you out of there. Don't worry too much about the emotional side of things; I imagine that I can cast an emotional shield like yours, since the principle appears clear. My worry is that any Translocation spell opens a portal between the two locations; a portal that remains open for a short time after it is cast. What concerns me is that Starmor might be able to use that same portal to get back here. I will have to consider my options with care before I cast any spell, but do not panic, Grimm. Hold firm for a while longer, we are working on the problem. Don't lose heart, my friend.
Please make it as quick as you can, Dalquist, Grimm pleaded. After five more minutes of being forced to endure this discordant purgatory, blasting myself into tiny fragments will look like a happy and welcome release.
Dalquist had to admit that Grimm might be right; the risks were indeed great. He had seen that Starmor was safely ensconced in a protective ward through which no spell could pass, but his own hatred and anger might be transmitted to that diabolic dictator though any direct magical link.
What of some sleight that transcended the four-dimensional limits of the chapel? Could he compress the chamber to a mere point, and thereby render the demon impotent and confined? This seemed unlikely, since it seemed the demon could move without restriction through this plane. What of another dimension to which Starmor had no access? Dalquist knew of no such dimension, but if four linear dimensions were possible, then why not a myriad of them? That might be the answer; perhaps he could access some frame of which the former Baron had no knowledge and, somehow, transport the entire chapel to that plane. But how was he to do this? He doubted he possessed sufficient power to cast such a spell.
He knew also that, despite Grimm's confident air, the younger mage could not maintain his emotional ward forever. He had no idea of the exact form of the spell, since it was a product of Grimm's own Questor magic, but he felt sure that it would require a considerable flux of magical power.
Shakkar provided the necessary insight. 'Questor Dalquist, maybe you cannot risk a direct translocation from Starmor's chapel, but what if you were to perform a transfer from the chapel to another of his secret locations, and from there to here? You now know where they are in relation to each other.'
Dalquist mulled over the proposal. 'I can see your point, Shakkar. There would be a delay while Starmor located the portal and launched himself into it, by which time the second portal back here would have closed. However, there is an element of risk involved. I do not know how long the spell lingers after being cast, since such energies have what we mages call a quantum decay probability distribution. I do not know how quickly Starmor can react. He might be able to react far with greater speed than we could imagine. I think I may have a small improvement on your suggestion.'
Thribble still crouched over the Eye, and Dalquist re-established contact with Grimm.
