Negotiations

Well, on the whole it hasn't been too bad a day. I say that in the hope that some random optimism will actually make it have been a better day, if that makes sense. Actually, joking apart, things haven't gone that badly. Sorry, I think I'm rambling a bit, I've been drinking some of this mysterious spirit that Grott distills up. I don't really know what he puts into it, in fact, I can't actually work out what you could physically put into a drink to make it taste the way it does. Yes, I'm probably brave to the point of foolhardiness to actually try it in the first place, but once you get used to the way it makes your tongue go totally numb and your face feel like it's made of sponge cake, it's really not that bad at all. Grott certainly seems to enjoy it, and I kind of felt left out. I just hope the consumption of this stuff isn't the cause of his complexion, but it certainly steadies the nerves.


Anyway, I suppose I'd better faithfully recount the rest of the day's events. Maevrin and I made our way back home, I maintaining a discreet silence in case the dreaded stamp torrent was unleashed once again. We entered the familiar terrain of the blasted wastes, the gloomy chill mist still lurking over it just the same as when I'd left. Coming over a rise in the ground, Zarfang came into view, along with the misty silhouette of Eldrigar's over sized spire in the distant background. Maevrin seemed to snap out of some kind of trance.


"So which one do you live in?" she asked. I sighed.


"The small one", I said with undue tetchiness.


"OK, OK, calm down," she replied, "I don't know, you wizards and your towers, it's almost as if you're trying to compensate for.."


"Oh no," I said, with a peculiar combination of haste and weariness, "Don't tell me you're starting that as well. Why is it that everyone comes out with that stuff? Everyone's an amateur psychologist these days."


She muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like "touched a nerve" and smirked to herself. I pretended not to notice.


At length, we arrived at the front door and went in.


"Grott, I'm home!" I called. There was no reply, which, come to think of it was a bloody stupid thing to write as he can't speak. What I meant to say was that Grott didn't appear.


"Who's Grott? Maevrin asked, putting her bag down just inside the door.


"Oh, he's just my manservant," I said, hoping that it would kind of impress her that I had one, and that maybe she'd change her mind about my general wizardly prowess.


"Oh," she said, disappointingly unimpressed looking.


You know, one of these days I'll let off a big massive purple fireball, then she'll change her tune. One of these days.


I was momentarily distracted by a strange grating sound, like stone on stone, very faint and coming from somewhere in the tower. Maevrin didn't appear to notice it.


"I'll just change into my questing stuff, then we can talk business", she said briskly. "If I just go into... WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?" she screamed. I nearly jumped out of my skin and whirled around.


"You nearly scared the life out of me!" I replied in disbelief. "What on earth did you do that for, it's only Grott!"


Grott had appeared at the door and was grinning, his tiny, beady black eyes fixed on Maevrin. "Honestly, he's not THAT weird looking. Well, OK, maybe he actually is pretty weird looking, but there's no need to scream. You're supposed to be going out doing a quest in a minute, are you sure your nerves can stand it?"


Maevrin was still transfixed by the sight of Grott.


"Can... Can it speak?", she said, in an over-dramatic half-whisper.


"Err, no actually, but he's very good at charades."


"How can you live with this THING lurking around the house?"


She still looked a bit stunned. Actually, though, I've got to admit I lock the bedroom door at night, not of course because I've got any problem with Grott in general, of course, but I can't help but remember the time I woke up in the middle of the night and rolled over, only to find him standing right beside the bed, staring at me, moonlight casting ghastly shadows across his gnarled and knobbly features. Of course, it turned out he was only waiting there perfectly innocently in case I wanted anything during the night, you've certainly got to admire his dedication. I did have to change the sheets after that one, though.


"Hey," I responded, slightly stung by this slight on my loyal minion. "Grott's my good and faithful companion. I think you should apologise to him - I can tell he likes you as well; he's making that bubbling noise; he always makes that when he likes people."


Grott approached, gurgling quietly. Maevrin shrank back.


"Where the hell did you get it from?", she quavered.


"Well, it's a funny story really. One night, soon after I moved in... I mean, after I wrought this place with mighty magics, he knocked on the door and gave me a piece of paper that said he'd work for free as long as he got fed regularly. Actually, I don't mind admitting that I was a bit drunk at the time, so I let him in. Come to think of it, it was a good thing I was a bit the worse for wear at the time, otherwise the whole thing might have been a bit unnerving. Still, he's a godsend with the housework, and I'm sure you'll be amazed to discover he has an almost completely neutral smell."


Maevrin didn't look terribly impressed, but at least she seemed to have calmed down.


"Sorry," she said. "I think I've been hanging around my house too long, the way he was just... standing there, it caught me by surprise."


"Yeah, I kind of know what you mean," I said, thinking of the bed incident again. "OK, I'll send him away, just go and change and we'll get this over with."


I ushered her into a small room just off the corridor, pushing her bag in after her and shutting the door behind her. I told Grott he'd better go back to whatever it was that he was up to before we arrived, and he trotted off happily. You know, maybe she did have a point, I suppose you get so used to something that after a while you don't really notice it anymore, like people who keep bizarre and nasty pets and act suprised when people spontaniously dive out of the window on seeing them.


"Fancy a cup of tea?" I yelled through the door.


"Yes please!" came the faint answer.


After a while we were sitting around the kitchen table, Maevrin wearing her slightly random assortment of armour. I got the impression that the armour was rather more to create the right business-like effect than for practicality, and it wasn't entirely flattering in all respects, but I suppose that was really none of my business.


"Right," I said, "I'm sure you couldn't help but notice that huge great tower out there? What I want you to do is break in there, and.."


"Whoa, whoa there," Maevrin interjected. "There's no way you're getting me to do that for 56 Waldroons. Stuff that's liable to get me liquidated is no-go. I'm more in the line of looking for lost keys, or stuff like that."


"Lost keys?" I replied, incredulously. "That's not much of a quest is it? Oh no, I've lost my car keys, now I'm going to be late for work, whatever will I do? I know, my saviour is at hand:- Maevrin, Mistress of quests! Oh, under the sofa, I would never have thought of that..."


"OK, OK, bad example," she said, blushing grumpily. "What I mean is finding lost items, people, that sort of thing. Finding the farmer's six wandering goats and getting seven gold coins in return. Not tangling with legitimate dark mages."


I didn't like the way she put all the stress on the word "legitimate", but I let it slide.


"Well, the situation is, there's this guy that calls himself Eldrigar the dark something-or-other of Mandrigon, he built that tower and I want to know what he's up to. Can you find out for me?"


"Hmm," she said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully, "I suppose that's different. I wouldn't have to do anything to anger him, just keep an eye on him from a distance, maybe try to strike up a conversation in some neutral location. So why are you so interested in what he's up to, anyway? And why don't you just do this stuff yourself?"


"Don't you think it's a bit strange - some dark sorcerer coming here of all places, the middle of nowhere and setting up a tower like that, right in my back garden?"


"Well, you did," she answered, smirking again "So it can't be that strange"


"I just happen to like the peace and quiet," I replied, refusing to rise to the bait, "I'll be getting on with the whole 'spreading evil and doom' dark wizard thing when I'm ready for it. As for why I'm sending you, well, you can take the offer or leave it."


"Alright, alright, calm down," she said. Actually, thinking back to her Grott related hysterics earlier she wasn't really justified in telling ME to calm down, but never mind. "I'll accept your quest. Give me a few days, and I'll report back on what I've found. I'll take the payment then. Do we have a deal?"


"Well, OK, it's a deal. But I'll only pay you the full amount if you can find something useful."


"OK, then, deal."


We shook hands. Whether this was going to work or not was another matter. I suppose if you're facing an impossible problem, you might as well sidle up to it, whistling through your teeth innocently and try to chip away at it with a few random futile efforts that you know full well will probably have no absolutely no effect at all - it's a lot better than trying to tackle things head on and getting squished in four seconds flat, plus you get the added bonus that the problem doesn't even know you're trying to tackle it. I had a nasty feeling that hiring her would probably come under the heading of random futile effort, but, well, at least I was doing something. You never know.


So we come back to me, upstairs in my bedroom, sipping that abnormal concoction of Grott's. I wonder what Maevrin's up to right now? It's dark outside, and while this provides the comfort of not being able to see Eldrigar's tower, I've noted with dismay this evening the occasional deep purple flashes and flickers near the tapering point of the spire. What could he be up to in there? I still have the nasty feeling that one of these days he'll come knocking on the door, and that'll be the end of my peaceful existence here. Then I suppose I'll have to leave, or become his lackey or something. Alas, how the mighty have fallen! Well, it's not over just yet....