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"I don't mind at all, Colonel, Armitage said. Feel free; it's no good to
me."
* * * *
Swift as a frightened rat, Thribble scuttled from the bag and regained the
relative safety of the underside of the gurney.
After the trolley was wheeled into a white room, after a long journey, the
imp noticed several occupied beds arrayed along the back wall, and no obvious
exit; this must be his goal. As the private hoisted Grimm onto a bed with
little ceremony, Thribble scuttled underneath. Agonising moments passed while
the junior soldier fussed and fiddled around with straps and machines. The
grey demon hunkered down, careful to avoid notice.
After what seemed like an age, the gangly youth finished his administrations,
and he sauntered out of the room, swinging the empty gurney from side to side
as if it were a dancing partner. Thribble was alone with a group of five
drugged humans, with no idea of how to proceed. Once he was certain that no
intrusion was likely, and that there were no guards present, he clambered up
onto Grimm's bed, searching for the ivy of which he had heard.
There was no horticulture in evidence, but the demon saw a clear, flexible
tube that seemed to be inserted into Grimm's elbow, just after a leather
strap. The tube ran up to a bottle held on a rack. The flask was full of what
looked like water, but Thribble guessed that this must be the Thor scene', of
which he had heard Armitage speak. He had no idea of what this substance might
be, but he guessed it was the cause of Grimm's continuing torpor.
The demon drew the tube from the young mage's arm, revealing a shining,
silver needle. The tube came free with a slight plop, releasing a little
blood, and fell to the floor. Thribble knew he would not have long to act. He
waited until the young Questor's eyelids began to flicker, and then he began
to speak, not knowing if his human friend would hear him or not.
Chapter 29
Awareness
"Wake up, Questor Grimm! Thribble shouted. He had been slapping the
unconscious mage's cheek, but the impact of his tiny hands made no impression
or mark on the flesh. Whatever this Thor's Scene substance was, it seemed to
be powerful stuff.
Worried that at any moment the door would open and he would be discovered,
the demon scuttled onto each bed, removing the ivy from each occupant's left
arm, in the hope thatsomeone would awake and help him resuscitate the rest.
The imp bounced with frustration on Xylox's bed, muttering come on, comeon
! but the Questor ignored his impassioned entreaties.
Thribble descended to the floor and scrambled onto the next bed, which held
the giant albino, Tordun.
Fearing discovery at any moment, the imp sank his sharp fangs into Tordun's
earlobe again and again. At last, the warrior groaned and showed signs of
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nascent, if vague, consciousness. Thribble screamed right in Tordun's ear.
"Swordsman, open your eyes; it is I, Thribble! Fight, human:fight !"
Long minutes passed as the imp yelled at the supine albino, before Tordun's
eyes flickered, and a vague smile drifted across his face, but the swordsman
then drifted back into the arms of Lethe. The demon redoubled his efforts, but
time was ticking away.
* * * *
Perfuco strode through the corridors, using his Mage Sight on everyone he
saw, searching for the slightest sign of treachery or secrecy. He questioned a
number of personnel, asking the names of their squad leaders, where they were
going and why. One hot-headed corporal was impertinent enough to ask why the
Colonel wished to know these things, but he soon divulged the required answers
when Perfuco threatened him with the loss of his stripes. The mage felt sure
his actions had aroused no suspicion, since such questioning was well within
his purview.
The Mentalist relished his duties at the compound. Until the attack on High
Lodge, which it was to be his honour to lead, he was in charge of security,
despite having been in residence for only a month. The General had liked the
idea of a man under his command who could tell a lie at sight, and Perfuco had
not failed to note the yellow streaks of envy suffusing the aura of the
previous long-standing Chief of Security, Colonel Schwartz, when he was
supplanted by this newcomer.
Still, a man of General Quelgrum's stature could not expect to entrust his
safety to a mere Secular, when a Mage of the Seventh Rank was available to
fill the position! It was only natural that the swift accession of the
thaumaturge to his present, lofty rank irked Schwartz more than a little, and
there was therefore bad blood between the two Colonels, but Perfuco knew the
erstwhile holder of his position feared him as almost as much as he hated him.
This was as it should be.
The Mentalist felt no puzzlement at the mist suffusing his mind: since he had
been Pacified, he had become used to such sensations, and he now accepted them
as a normal part of his life where vital orders were concerned. He knew the
effect the General's command voice had on him was due only to his prior
conditioning at Haven, but he understood the necessity for this. It was only
reasonable that a sworn Guild Mage could not be trusted as a member of the
commanding officer's close cadre without precautions being taken.
Perfuco strode through the complex with a grim determination to root out the
traitors at the heart of Armitage's evil plot.
* * * *
"H'lo, Th'bble."
The words might be slurred and dull, but the imp felt delighted to see that
Questor Grimm's eyes were now fully open, even if they were pointing in
different directions. By this time, Tordun, Xylox and Drex were in varying
stages of drugged consciousness, but Thribble had suspected that the younger
mage, having overcome a devastating addiction to narcotics, might be the first
to regain his senses.
"Friend Grimm! he squeaked. You are in great danger! Armitage, or rather
his older twin, intends to Pacify you. Do you remember what that means?"
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