Quelgrum stepped in front of the foppish mage. “Questor Guy, Lord Grimm was man enough to apologise. Are you? You seem to be going out of your way to provoke him."

"I might have known you'd side with him, Technology-lover!” Guy spat. “Take the hand of that misbegotten waif? I'd rather-"

"Oh, Questor Guy,” Drex cried, her eyes moistening. “Can't you make peace with Grimm-please?"

Grimm felt entranced by his beloved's blue eyes; they seemed so large and deep that he felt as if he were about to fall into them. How could any man of flesh and blood remain unmoved by such an entreaty?

It seemed that even the sarcastic, acerbic Guy was mortal at heart. He shrugged and took Grimm's hand in his own, pumping it once before releasing it.

"I suppose I was a little hard on you, Dragonblaster,” the Great Flame muttered. “Let's just get on with the damn Quest, shall we?"

The older Questor had not even used his favourite perversion of Grimm's title: ‘Dragonbluster'. Grimm guessed that was the nearest thing to an apology he was ever likely to hear from Guy.

"Well met, Great Flame,” he said, nodding. “There's a difficult task ahead of us, and I'd far rather we were allies than enemies."

Guy, looking a little dazed, shrugged. “I agree. Let's do it."

Quelgrum nodded. “I'll call the others. We'll be ready to move by morning."

"I don't think we should wait that long, General,” Drex said, biting her lower lip. “Nobody knows I'm gone yet, but they will in a short while, when I'm missed at Evening Devotions. There's no telling what that evil bitch, Lizaveta will do then.

"I don't think I could smuggle all of you into the Priory; a small party would be better. I'll go with Grimm-he's a Questor, after all."

"What's the matter with me?” Guy's voice became a plaintive whine. “I'm the senior Questor here."