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some insane horde of barbarian raiders stormed in here and demolished the
place, it'd probably improve it no end. And from what I've heard of the gentle
people of Yoren, a band of marauding savages would probably be regarded as a
minor public nuisance.
The only nod in the direction of civic defence appeared to be a small hut by
the side of the road, beside a flimsy, bleached wooden barrier before which
Quelgrum brought the vehicle to a stop.
Grimm noted the horses wild, staring eyes, their fitfully-flicking tails and
their nervous whickers and whinnies.
Wonderful. This place even makes the animals uneasy.
"Hello! Anybody there? Quelgrum cried in a commanding, parade-ground bellow,
to be greeted by a wall of silence.
Grimm frowned. We can just drive round this, General. It doesn't seem much of
an obstacle to me."
"I think you may be right, Lord Baron. We don't want to hang around here all
day."
As the General raised the reins, a dishevelled man walked out of the hut. He
wore a strange melange of armour: faded, cracking leather, rusty scraps of
chain mail and dented fragments of steel plate all figured in his bizarre
clothing. Grimm noted that the wooden shaft of the guard's halberd was warped
and parched, and the head was dull and pitted. This, clearly, was not a man of
arms who took pride in the condition of his equipment, or of his appearance.
"Byersel? Whassit? The guard spoke in a guttural, almost impenetrable accent.
"I'd love to put this fellow through a few weeks basic training, the General
muttered to Grimm. I'd soon shape him up, I promise you. In a louder voice,
he addressed the shabbily-dressed man. What's that? Speak up, can't you,
man?"
"Just who ju fink y'are? Comin in here, shoutin th'bloody odds sif you
owned the bloody place! the scruffy watchman whined. Gotta job t'do, ain't
I? Buy or sell, what's it to be?"
Quelgrum shrugged. We must be here to buy, I suppose, watchman. We don't have
anything to sell."
"Show me the colour o'yer money, then."
Grimm saw the General's jaw tighten, and put his hand on the soldier's arm.
We don't want to start trouble before we've even got here, General, he
muttered.
Cursing under his breath, Quelgrum showed his money-pouch to the untidy,
ill-mannered moron. There's plenty here."
The drab little man smiled, displaying a mouthful of decaying, broken teeth.
It was not a friendly smile. Gimme eight gold, else yer can't come in."
Quelgrum exploded. Eight gold pieces, just to enter this stinking hellhole?
The whole place isn't worth a copper groat!"
"You must want sumfink. The guard's face bore a mask of naked, feral avarice.
Else you wouldn't be here. There's some fings you can only get at Yoren; fink
I don't know that? You must want sumfink awful bad to come here, a man wiv
your money. Gimme eight golds, and I'll let yer froo."
"I'll give you the back of my bloody hand! the General snapped.
"'Ere, old up, mate. You don't want to freaten me! The shabby sentinel
brandished his corroded weapon. I ain't afraid o'you. That'll be nine golds
now, so and it over or piss off."
This is going nowhere, Grimm thought. It's time to use a little persuasion.
His Mage Sight showed the guard's mind as a grey, greasy worm squirming in a
soupy sea of muck, unprotected and vulnerable. It was a simple matter to grasp
hold of the slimy tentacle and push. A fragment of the Questor's personal
spell-language burst from his lips: Th'kak'ka sh'tat!"
The sentinel was stronger than he looked, and the Questor needed to use more
power than he had intended, but the wretched man's slack jaw and limp posture
told him he had succeeded. The guard's eyes glazed over, and he lowered his
halberd.
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"Here are ten gold pieces, Grimm said, forcing his will into the watchman's
psyche as he held out his empty hand. I think you will find this in order. Be
so kind as to lift this barrier, and we will be on our way. Despite the
unexpected resistance, Grimm felt no more than an irritating tickle at the
margins of his sensorium.
"Yeah, that's good. Fank you, guv'nor, the guard said in a dull monotone.
"When we have left, you will not remember us. Grimm added a little extra
thaumaturgic emphasis to push his will home.
The watchman's only response was a vague grunt, but he raised the barrier, his
eyes wide and unseeing.
"I'd love to have you in my army, Quelgrum said as the wagon rolled into
Yoren.
"Yeah, I've always wanted ter be a sojer, the man absently said, wearing a
vague, beatific smile, as if he had received some unexpected bounty.
The General smiled. I thought so. Thank you for your invaluable assistance."
With that, they were in the town of Yoren, leaving the irritating little man
behind.
"If you can cast spells like that, Lord Baron, we shouldn't have any trouble
here, Quelgrum said.
The Questor shook his head. It's not that simple, General, I'm afraid. Every
attempt at Compulsion robs me of some strength, in direct proportion to the
intellect and willpower of the subject, and it requires absolute
concentration. The subject also needs to be off-guard and unprepared. Each
attempt to dominate a man carries a risk of an undesired Resonance in the
spell, and I don't want to take that risk any more often than I need to."
"A resonance; what is that, Lord Grimm?"
"It's a little technical, General, Grimm responded, but the upshot would be
that I'd be stuck inside the spell, pouring ever greater quantities of energy
into it but unable to withdraw. That man was alone, and I could see from his
aura that he was a weak character, so the risk was negligible. If we'd been in
the middle of a large, noisy, belligerent crowd baying for our blood, I
wouldn't have tried it. It's not a battlefield spell. It's more a useful tool
than a war-winning weapon."
"Still, at least the streets seem fairly quiet. The soldier waved a hand
towards the vacant thoroughfares. I don't know what all the fuss is about."
It is quiet; too damn quiet for my liking, Grimm thought as he surveyed the
empty, narrow street.
He noted the rows of tall buildings at either side. If we're attacked front
and rear, we're trapped. Surely Quelgrum can see that.
As if reading the Questor's mind, the General said, I'd sooner be on open
ground, but I don't think we've too much to worry about, Baron Grimm. After
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