Hamar carried out an efficient, dispassionate search of each member of the party and began to deprive them of their weapons. Tordun, in particular, looked particularly pained as he handed over his broadsword.
As the Staff Sergeant moved to the back of the wagon, Grimm felt the unmistakable tingle of magical power being unleashed; a large amount of it, if the young mage was any judge. The syllables that came from Guy's lips were, of course, unintelligible to anyone but him, being in his personal Questor spell-language, but Grimm guessed that the older thaumaturge had released a potent spell of Compulsion.
'There's nothing in the wagon, sentry,' Guy said in an easy, reasonable voice. 'It's clean.'
Grimm gaped as the Staff Sergeant turned to face Guy, wearing a tolerant smile. 'I'm sure you're right, sir, but I have to search it anyway,' he said with a cool voice as he climbed into the conveyance.
At any other time, Grimm would have felt some pleasure at the sight of the Great Flame's slack jaw and stunned, bulging eyes, but not now; Hamar had withstood a full Compulsion spell from a Questor of the Seventh Rank without showing the least sign of discomfort, or even of having noticed the spell. To add to Grimm's unease, his Mage Sight showed him that this was no Technology-controlled slave like those he had met at the mountain fortress of Haven. Neither saw he the least sign of magic in the man's aura: not even the blank white aura of a witch.
'I gave him a full-strength Compulsion,' Guy whispered, his eyes wide with disbelief. 'He should be a drooling puppet by now. The spell was good.'
'I know, Guy. He must be wearing some weird sort of ward.'
'I could take him out, easily,' Tordun rumbled. 'Just say the word.'
'We've still got our staves, Grimm,' Guy said, his face determined. 'He wouldn't stand a chance.'
Grimm shook his head. 'I don't think we're alone here, Tordun. I'm pretty sure there are armed men with Technological weapons, hiding in the undergrowth.'
'Well, well well,' Hamar called, his voice dulled by the wagon's canvas cover. 'Quite an armoury you have here; good quality hardware, too. Don't worry, Sirs, we'll take good care of it.'
The Staff Sergeant emitted a shrill whistle and five armed men emerged from the bushes, firearms at the ready. Grimm gathered his power, ready to strike, but no direct assault appeared to be in progress.
Hamar hopped down from the wagon. 'Juran, you and Mardel take inventory, and make out a receipt for the weapons,' he said, his orders crisp and precise. 'Gyor; double over to the House and ask them to make ready for our guests. Bort; I want you and Fasar to take these gentlemen's luggage to their rooms when it's been checked.'
The five men saluted, and replied as if with one voice: 'Understood, Staff!'
The soldiers rushed to carry out their senior's orders, efficient and economical in their movements.
Hamar turned to Grimm. 'If you and your companions would be so kind as to follow me, gentlemen, we'll make our way over to Reception.' The Staff Sergeant gave another of his sharp salutes.
Grimm's stomach roiled with misgiving. It seemed to him as if all initiative had been stripped from him, as an unaccustomed sense of indecision dulled his thoughts. This situation seemed somehow false; as if the Mansion House staff had been expecting him and his companions since their first arrival in Yoren. He felt his mind and his heartbeat racing to no end. What to do? He had never felt so helpless in his life.
So he's got a powerful spell-ward I can't detect, he thought, trying to marshal his mental processes. That's no reason to suspect him of evil intent. There are magical skills outside the Guild's control, I imagine. I'd have one myself, if I knew where to get hold of one, or how to make one. I don't like this place, anyway, and I'll recommend we get out of here as soon as we've got the information we need.
The gatekeeper's actions so far had been irreproachable, but Grimm did not feel comfortable that his hard- won powers might be so easily nullified. He felt not so much threatened as naked, and he was unsure of how to respond.
Quelgrum broke the silence. 'Thank you, Staff,' he said in a cool voice. 'We're in your capable hands.'
If anything, the interior of the House was even more magnificent than its glorious exterior. Grimm regarded the plush, crimson carpets, rich mahogany panelling and lustrous brass fittings with appreciative eyes. If this was some kind of prison, at least it was a luxurious one.
Soft lights cast a warm, orange glow on the scene, and the mage heard soft, unobtrusive music, enhancing the cool, calm, soothing atmosphere. Despite his earlier misgivings, the mage began to feel a lot happier about this strange place. Surely there could be no harm in staying in such a cheerful, comfortable establishment.
A gentle fragrance permeated the air, and a wide, sweeping marble staircase dominated the entrance hall, seeming to run up to dizzying heights. As Grimm and his friends regarded the opulence of the decor, a young woman stepped out of a back room to stand behind a large, polished counter that ran the length of the far wall. Golden hair fell over her shoulders in flowing waves, and her pale, delicately-painted face wore a beaming smile.
'Welcome to Mansion House,' she said, her cheeks dimpling. 'May I ask how long will you be staying, gentlemen?' Her voice was soft and sweet, and Grimm felt himself almost lost in the depths of those large, lambent, blue eyes.
'Er, I'm not sure.' The young mage felt lumpen and clumsy in the presence of this vision of feminine pulchritude, and tried not to notice the expanse of flesh revealed by her low-cut, white blouse. 'One day, maybe two.'
He sensed his face growing warm, and he coughed in an attempt to hide his unaccustomed bashfulness. As he stole a glance at his companions, he realised that he was not alone in his feelings. Even the cynical Guy seemed dumbstruck by this lovely girl's beauty, and Tordun's normally white face had turned a shade of puce.
It went beyond physical attraction; Grimm felt his heart pounding and his blood surging. He had only ever experienced such confusing feelings before when in Drexelica's amorous embrace. Even the girl's delicate perfume seemed to befuddle him.
'We usually ask our guests to register,' she said, sweeping an errant lock of hair away from her eyes with a slender, long-fingered hand. The casual gesture only seemed to enhance her attractiveness. 'However, I can tell you've had a long journey; I'm sure you'll want to bathe and relax for a while first. Your bags have been sent to your rooms, and I have a full receipt for your weapons.'
'All in good time, Miss,' the General said. He seemed to be the only member of the party not nonplussed to the point of idiocy by the lovely girl.
'I just wondered if you could help us. We heard that a deputation from the Order of the Sisters of Divine Serenity had made their way here, only a short while ago, and we wished to pay our respects. I just wondered if they left any forwarding address, or if you knew which route they might have taken when they left.'
The receptionist's dimples did not seem to faze Quelgrum, who responded with a cool, polite smile.
'Ah, yes; I do remember a party of nuns here a couple of weeks ago,' the girl cooed. 'Unfortunately, I wasn't here when they left. Let me look in the guest book.'
She leafed through the large, leather-bound ledger in front of her. 'Mr. Chudel, the Manager, handled the formalities when the party left. Perhaps they told him something about their destination; I don't know. Mr. Chudel usually asks for a forwarding address, in case a guest has left anything behind.'
Her brow wrinkled. 'If you'll forgive me for saying so, sir, you and your companions do not seem to be… religious types. I just wondered what the extent of your interest in the Sisters might be; I'm sure you'll understand that we need to respect our guests' privacy.'
'Prioress Lizaveta acted as witness at my wedding, many years ago,' came the General's smooth reply. 'I promised to present my heartiest respects if we ever met again, but we lost contact. When I heard she had visited Yoren, I was reminded of my promise to her. If you'd just introduce us to Mr. Chudel, I'd be very grateful.'
The receptionist produced another of her dreamy, dazzling smiles, and Grimm felt as if his knees had turned to treacle. 'I'm afraid he's out of town at the moment, sir. He's expected back the day after tomorrow. If you like, I'll ask him to have a word with you before you leave.'
'I'd really appreciate that,' Quelgrum said. 'It would mean a lot to me.' Despite his earlier, cool manner, even the General now appeared quite relaxed.
'The nightly rate for seven rooms is twenty-eight gold pieces, Sir. First night is payable in advance, I'm
