The old man's face crinkled, and his distressed expression appeared genuine. “I am sorry to hear that, Blessed One! Your confinement will not last much longer. Our smithies and foundries have been working for several hours to produce metal fitments for the structure, so that your security will be assured.'
'Could you not find temporary housing for us, Murar? The imposing stone building over there would seem quite adequate for our needs.” Grimm nodded in the direction of a large structure he saw through the chamber's single window.
On several occasions in the last hour, he had seen the edifice warp and mutate as Gruon shifted in his sleep. With any luck, Murar would accede to Grimm's request, and he and his companions might be freed during another such episode.
To the Questor's regret, Murar shook his head. “You are a naughty one,” the aged Revenant said with a chuckle. “You know full well that the building is one of Uncle's dream-structures and subject to periodic change! In any case, as I told you, we are well aware that stone is a poor material with which to protect a magic-user of your abilities. We need metal bars and meshes of the purest iron to meet your needs; the slightest contamination or impurity constitutes grounds for rejection of a delivery. Our assayers are hard at work ensuring the perfection of the structure, in your honour.'
'Thank you so much,” Grimm replied, with a sardonic, twisted smile. “I'm sure we all appreciate the… great honour you do us.'
Murar offered a deep bow, seeming to take Grimm's sarcastic words at face value.
'You are more than welcome, Blessed One.'
At that moment, Grimm heard the chamber's door creak, and he turned his head to see a slender woman standing in the doorway. She appeared to be in her early twenties, with long, blonde hair, blue eyes and a flawless complexion. In circumstances other than this, the Questor might have found her ravishing. However, this woman, honest, decent and good-humoured as she appeared, must be another of his jailers.
'Revenant Murar, the compound is ready to admit our new guests,” she said in a pleasant contralto, a broad smile brightening her face. Then her gaze lighted on the fettered mage, and her happy expression blossomed into one of pure rapture.
'He is far younger than I would have thought, Revenant Murar! Uncle will sleep well for years to come, with his help!” the young woman crowed. “Welcome, Blessed One, welcome!'
'Beloved guest,” a beaming Murar intoned. “Permit me to introduce Revenant Elamma. It was she who first divined Uncle's culinary tastes, and she is, therefore amongst the most respected of our citizens. In recognition of this, she holds the august position of Protector of the Breeders.'
'I am Grimm Afelnor, Mage Questor of the Seventh Rank, called the Dragonblaster. I am honoured to meet such a respected citizen of Brianston.'
Elamma dipped a deep, respectful curtsey. “No, Blessed Grimm, the honour's all mine,” she said. “We last saw a full Mage Questor over thirty years ago, and he served Uncle well before he had to leave us.'
Before he died, you mean, thought the mage. You people seem to have a remarkable talent for self-deception and euphemism. I must say, you seem very well-preserved for one of your age. You're probably old enough to be my great-grandmother.
'Living in this fine city seems to agree with you, Revenant Elamma,” he said aloud, deeming diplomacy more advisable than outright confrontation.
The woman's face crinkled into a bashful smile. “Thank you, Blessed One. Uncle seems happy with my current form. I was first created in this image over ninety Dreams ago, and I've remained exactly the same in all of my returns. I look forward to delivering your offspring for many generations. I'll be sorry to see you leave.'
Grimm fell into a deep, dark pit of despair, seeing himself as a human stud animal, greying and wrinkling as the years passed, until his pale, shrivelled corpse was tipped into the sleeping Uncle Gruon's maw.
Self-pity flowed through him in a sluggish, murky stream. Drex will grow older and die, never knowing what happened to me, he thought, wallowing in muddy lakes of helplessness. Granfer Loras will live on after his death as the foul Betrayer of the Guild, and the House will write me off as his worthless, renegade progeny. So much for all those dreams of glory and triumph!
For a moment, a dim spark of hope flowered, as the mage saw Murar take out a large, ornate key. Those heavy, iron gauntlets might impede his magic, but Grimm knew they would make excellent physical weapons against the Revenant. He would not relish the thought of braining an old man and a girl, solidified dreams though they might be, but he would not hesitate to do so if he got the chance.
Murar unfastened the fetters from the wall, and Grimm tensed himself to strike. As the last chains fell free, he slammed a gauntleted fist against the old man's temple, and it felt as if he had punched a mountain. The blow had not the slightest effect on the smiling Revenant, although it should have cracked his skull at least.
Murar frowned. “Naughty boy, Blessed One! That was foolish; you are not a part of our adored Uncle's Dream, so you cannot do anything to me, one of his Chosen Ones. It pleases him to keep me as I am. The ordinary citizens may be susceptible to violence, but not we beloved Revenants. Your magic might be able to affect me, but not your physical presence. Come on, now, and we'll soon get those nasty chains off you.'
With the last of his resistance gone, the Questor allowed himself to be led out of the chamber. Holding the end of one of the chains, the Revenant, his head held high, took him out of the stark chamber into pandemonium.
Vast crowds of cheering people greeted Grimm's eyes, howling, hooting and pressing in upon him. He was jostled and bumped as the joyous Dream-people swarmed, each person trying to touch him. They slipped, fell and trampled on each other, heedless, reckless and eager to lay hands on this physical embodiment of their desire to survive.
On occasion, Grimm lashed out with his metal-clad hands, striking members of the encroaching horde. Some fell, but the mage's armoured fists rebounded from the skulls of others: Revenants, he guessed.
At last, Murar and Elamma ushered the mage to a solid, metal-bound door in a wall of yellow stone, which was criss-crossed with a fine tracery of metal wire. The Revenant midwife produced a key and opened the door to reveal a second at the end of a small vestibule, about six feet wide and five feet long.
With a firm, guiding hand, Elamma ushered Grimm inside, and the mage heard the portal behind him close with a decisive click. The rapturous clamour of the crowd was snuffed out, and the mage found himself alone in the tiny chamber.
Grimm had no especial fear of enclosed spaces, but, fettered and bound as he was, it seemed as if the walls were closing in on him. His breathing became swift and shallow, his heart began to pound, and he felt a cold sweat trickling down his body.
The mage spun around as he heard a clank behind him, and he saw a small slit open in the shining door, on the left-hand side.
'Blessed One,” called the voice of Murar. “Be so good as to stand to one side.'
Grimm did as he was bidden, and he saw a slender, metal rod extending into the chamber through the slit. He felt his irrational fear giving way to puzzlement as the rod grew longer, and he realised that the narrow shaft was an immensely long key.
They aren't taking any chances with us, he thought. They've obviously thought this whole thing out in detail. I can only imagine the mage they captured before gave them a full Questor demonstration before he was subdued.
The mage wondered how Murar would be able to fit the long key into its mating lock, but he noticed that the latter was at the end of a long conical cavity, guiding the key into its appointed place. This also gave Grimm some idea of the great thickness of the door.
Clever: these people are not idiots, by any stretch of the imagination.
As the rod began to slide into the cone, he glanced at the slit and saw a large cross at its key's far end. This would ensure that it could not be pulled through the slot from Grimm's side; another sensible security measure, he thought with a sardonic smile.
A loud, mechanical clank told him the door was unlocked, and the key withdrew.
'You may now open the door, Blessed One. Please close it behind you.'
'What if I refuse?” Grimm asked, although he guessed the answer to his question.
'None of you will receive any food or water until you are safely inside, Lord Grimm. Please be co-operative, we beg you, for their sakes.'
Deciding his position was hopeless, Grimm forced the door open with his shoulder, and stumbled into an
