incline.
From perdition to paradise in the space of a few short yards!
The Questor's heart sang as he regarded a golden building sitting on a sward of purest green. A beige, tree- lined path marked the route to what must be the Mansion House, seeming as if it were some indication of ineluctable destiny. To Grimm, it felt as if a leaden weight had been removed from his chest as the grey, depressing drabness of Yoren was left behind and the wagon began to wind up the blessed, clean, even road.
Why doesn't everyone in Yoren come here? he wondered, savouring the fragrant, clean air that flooded into his lungs. Why would anyone want to live in that place?
It was not long before his rhetorical question was answered, as two men leapt into the road from behind the cover of the trees lining the avenue. Unlike the shabbily-attired attackers who had welcomed the adventurers on their first arrival in Yoren, these warriors wore heavy, padded jackets, and the blued-steel tubes they levelled at Grimm and Quelgrum looked familiar.
'They've got Technological weapons and armour,' the General muttered, confirming the Questor's suspicions as he reined in the horses. 'No wonder they can keep the locals in check.'
'What's your business here?' one of the ambushers demanded as he stepped forward. His speech was cultured, educated, and free of the heavy Yorenian accent.
'We need a place to stay, well away from that rat-hole,' Quelgrum said, maintaining a cool, unflustered face as Grimm laid his right hand on Redeemer, ready for trouble.
'Don't we all? Show me what you've got to offer; all of it,' the cloth-armoured man replied. 'Don't worry; we're paid well enough. If you can pay, you should be allowed in. If not, I'd advise you to turn back.' His eyes were narrowed, suspicious.
Grimm held up his bulging money-purse, opening it just enough to show the gleaming coins within. 'I think this should be sufficient for even the Mansion House,' he said. 'If not, I have plenty more to spare; I am the Baron of Crar.'
As the Questor held out his purse, he saw that the guard's eyes widened as they locked onto the blue-gold Guild ring on his marriage finger.
'Your servant, Lord Mage!'The man dropped onto his right knee at once, as did his companion. 'I trust you realise that only people of quality are accepted here. Please forgive us the intrusion on your contemplation; you and your companions are more than welcome.'
The two men disappeared into the undergrowth as quickly as they had appeared.
'What do you think was that all about, Lord Baron?'
'I suppose my full purse swayed them,' Grimm said, unsure that this was the truth. 'Perhaps they just like mages at the Mansion House.'
'I heard they despised Guild Mages in Yoren,' the General replied. 'This just seems a little too cosy for me. In my army, we talk about 'honey traps'. They're ambushes too sweet or tempting to resist.'
After the depressing spectacle of the centre of Yoren, Grimm felt in no mood to argue as the increasingly imposing spectacle of the Mansion House hove into view. 'Relax, General. He saw my money and my ring; that's all. I'd rather be here than down in the town, any day. We'll be all right, as long as we keep our wits about us.'
'Hear, hear,' Guy cried, from inside the wagon.
Harvel called, 'Are you going to pay for all this, Questor Grimm?'
Grimm smiled. 'Of course, fellows! We don't have to slum it just because we're on a Quest. Keep alert, and we should be all right.'
'You're in charge, Lord Baron,' Quelgrum said, as the magnificent building loomed before them, 'and I'll do as you say. I just hope you're right. These chaps could be in league with Lizaveta, for all we know.'
Grimm laughed. 'Sometimes I think you worry just a little too much, General. I'm not going into this with my eyes shut, I assure you. Don't worry; I'll be on my guard, as will all of us.'
As the wagon rumbled under an imposing stone arch, Grimm thought he heard a muttered prayer or imprecation from the old soldier, although he could not be sure.
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Chapter 26: A Cheerful Reception
The wagon rolled up the smooth, tree-lined track towards the Mansion House. Although the Questor's party suffered no further incursions, Grimm's sensitive ears picked up the occasional muttered voice and rustling sound from the undergrowth. He suspected that he and his companions had been under constant surveillance since they started up the winding path.
As the party neared the House, the young mage felt a shiver of awe running through him. He could not believe the contrast between the grand opulence of this building and the dingy squalor at the centre of Yoren; it almost made the fabulous, luxurious High Lodge look like a rather pedestrian town house. Instead of dull, grey stone, the House seemed to be constructed of lustrous, iridescent marble, with complex, tasteful details picked out in gold. At the front of the building, he saw a long, pillared portico or cloister whose purpose, Grimm imagined, was to enable visitors to remain dry while exiting their vehicles in the rain.
And all these windows! There must have been over a hundred on the front of the building alone, and Grimm knew that glass, especially glass of this sparkling, flawless quality, was an expensive commodity.
Quelgrum's eyes bulged. 'Where on earth did they get all the money to make this, let alone to be able to run it?'
Despite knowing the General's question was rhetorical, Grimm answered him.
'All I know is that my stipend as Baron of Crar would barely begin to cover it, General,' he breathed.
Up ahead, he saw a small, windowed kiosk, beside which was a red-and-white striped pole, barring further progress. As soon as Quelgrum reined in the horses in front of the barrier, a tall, slender man stepped out from the kiosk, offering a crisp, faultless salute that, Grimm imagined, would not have been out of place in the General's army. The old soldier's formal, precise answering salute seemed to confirm this; the General placed a high premium on tidiness, order and discipline, and this man seemed to possess great quantities of each.
As the gatekeeper approached, Grimm took note of the man's immaculate, dark-blue uniform, similar to that worn by Quelgrum's cadre, with a tightly knotted strip of cloth around his neck and razor-sharp creases in his straight trousers. Mirror-polished black shoes, gleaming buttons and a peaked cap added to the dazzling effect. The Questor also saw that the watchman wore a Technological weapon in a leather holster at his waist.
'I see you are a military man, Sir,' the gatekeeper said, his pose ramrod-straight as he held the salute. 'Staff Sergeant Hamar, at your service, Sir. Welcome to the Mansion House.'
'Stand easy, Staff,' replied Quelgrum, slipping back into his martial role with ease. 'I am General Sleafel Quelgrum, and my companion is Baron Grimm Afelnor of Crar.'
As with the guards who had accosted the party earlier, the young mage thought that Hamar's gaze rested perhaps just a little too long on his Guild ring. Ah, you're just getting paranoid. You've got an over-active imagination, Afelnor, he chided himself.
'Your fame precedes you, General,' the Staff Sergeant said. 'At your service, Lord Baron.' Hamar's face wrinkled, and reddened a little. 'I'm sorry, sir; I'll have to ask you to leave your hardware here. We don't allow offensive weapons in the House. The same goes for your companions in the back. Staves and small blades of less than three inches' length are all right, but whips, swords, daggers, cudgels or other offensive weapons are not permitted. I'll have to search you and the wagon, I'm afraid.'
Quelgrum's eyes narrowed.
'Sorry, General, that's not my rule, but a standing order.' Hamar's tone remained deferent and apologetic. 'I'm sure you understand. Please step down from the vehicle.'
Quelgrum sighed and turned his head around. 'You heard the man,' he called. 'Hand 'em over.'
The three warriors and two mages clambered out of the wagon, as Grimm and the General climbed down.
