In a moment, the glowing, blue sphere appeared, hovering over his head like a guardian angel.

"Very good,” Drex said, clapping her hands in a parody of congratulations. “Perhaps you thought of using a different spell; a more potent one?"

Grimm's heart leapt, but he kept his expression impassive.

Is Drex reading my mind? Surely not; if she wanted to convince me of that, she'd have told me before now.

"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't,” he said aloud. “But what's the point? You seem to have every advantage over me."

"I thought you'd say that,” the girl said. “Well; perhaps we could take things a little further. Reverend Mother, may I show Master Afelnor the full extent of our control over him?"

Lizaveta nodded. “Please do, Sister."

"Now, Grimm,” Drex said, “I order you to put Mother Lizaveta and me to sleep with your magic."

Grimm hesitated. “You might hurt yourself when you fall, Drex,” he said. “I wouldn't want that."

"We will sit during the exercise.” Lizaveta fetched a pair of stools from the corner of the chamber. The two women sat opposite Grimm.

"Well, go ahead, Grimm,” Drex said. “Do as I told you. We can't hurt ourselves now."

They really think I'm ensorcelled!

The mage considered the characteristics of impending sleep: heavy eyelids, wandering thoughts and lassitude. Now visualising the effect he wanted, he let the energies within him build and concentrate, confident that his Questor language would pattern it in the correct fashion. He had no direct control over what he shouted when casting, but it always achieved the desired effect.

Just a pinch of power; I don't want to put Drex in a coma, he thought, readying himself to release his spell.

Nothing emerged from his lips, and Grimm blinked in surprise. He felt the ordered threads of thaumaturgic force awaiting his bidding, but he could not unleash them. The knot of energy expanded, swelling like a bone-dry, sponge pressed into a sheet and dropped in water. His heart began to pound.