was never tainted by Starmor's evil magic.'
Grimm felt trapped in a quandary. He knew he could not commit to running Crar on a regular basis, and yet these people obviously needed help.
As an idea came to him, he brightened. 'How would it be if I appointed a representative: a Seneschal, to run the day-to-day affairs of the city in my name? Someone you could trust to protect you. Someone who cares nothing for gold and jewels? Someone who has actively resisted Starmor's will for many years?'
Chod nodded slowly. 'That might be acceptable, Lord Mage. Do you have somebody in mind?'
'Our demon friend, Shakkar, seems to have an unsuspected talent for organisation,' Grimm said. 'With your permission, I will ask him if he will take the post of Seneschal. I believe you would find him a potent ally and guardian, should he accept.'
Now, it was the mayor's turn to frown. 'Shakkar was once Starmor's lieutenant, of his own volition, Lord Mage,' he said, narrowing his eyes. 'This does not sit well with me. At least the rest of us fought Starmor as well as we could before we lost our minds.'
Grimm shook his head. 'With respect, Lord Mayor, you are mistaken,' he said. 'Shakkar opposed Starmor as soon as his evil plans became clear, at the cost of his magical powers and his freedom. He spent a decade in grim imprisonment for his pains. He was free to leave at any time, but he chose to fight the Baron instead. He steadfastly refused to aid Starmor in the enslavement of the city's denizens. This is heroic behaviour from a creature who was shunned by all, kin to no human, and who owes you no fealty. We could not have defeated Starmor without the aid of Shakkar, Lord Mayor. He was instrumental in your salvation.'
Chod considered the young man's words with care. He had hoped that Questor Grimm, whom, he knew, must remain at all times bound to the will of the Guild, would cede control of the offered city finances to the Council, without conditions, whilst still offering a measure of protection. A few hundred gold pieces, or even a few thousand, would be a small price to pay for the threat of Guild retribution for any attack; a threat Chod could invoke at any time when negotiating with the other towns in the region.
The mayor had been prepared to accept a human representative, but, now he knew the truth of Starmor's demonic provenance, it seemed unthinkable that another demon should be accepted as a representative of a new Baron, a new order. On the other hand, he knew that Questor Grimm spoke the truth.
He had seen with his own eyes Shakkar's first vocal opposition to Starmor's actions when the newly elevated Baron had begun to change free humans into enslaved caricatures and puppets. The Council, cowed by this evidence of power, had deemed it politic to say and do nothing, biding their time. By then, it was too late…
Chod knew he dared not return to the Council with empty hands, and he also knew the people of Crar would be unlikely to accept the unquestioned rule of a group of people who had failed them before. The still-cowed people of Crar might accept the accession of the Council at first, but their tenure might be brief, as the citizens began to revel in their newfound freedom. In order to prevent anarchy, Crar, so long a Barony, needed a benign but powerful ruler to watch over it. The implicit protection of the mighty Guild, however distant, might prove a potent safeguard against any would-be attacker.
Questor Grimm had proved to be a young man of considerable moral principle as well as magical power, and this elevated him even more in the Mayor's eyes than had his former resourcefulness; this youth was not greedy and would not raid the civic purse too often. The fact that he would be away from the city for most of the time was, if anything, an advantage. Only the matter of Grimm's proposed Seneschal caused him pause; nonetheless, was the prospective Baron's candidate beyond consideration?
The demon has certainly been of great help in the rebuilding of Crar, in the short time since Starmor left us. Having a dull-witted monster like Shakkar to protect us could not help but deter our eager-eyed enemies.
Perhaps this young mage's idea is not so bad, after all. I am a politician, after all. I should be able to swing sufficient support in the Council, if I word the proposal in a suitable form…
'My apologies, Lord Mage,' he said at last, bowing, trying not to sound too eager. 'Will you kindly put your suggestion to this demon, Shakkar? I will recommend to the Council in the strongest terms that we accept your proposal.'
'Mayor Chod, I will,' Questor Grimm replied. 'Needless to say, my acceptance of the post of Baron is conditional upon our mutual acceptance of this stipulation.'
Chod nodded, suppressing a smile.
'I have one more stipulation of my own, Questor Grimm. You must accept a yearly stipend of one thousand gold pieces from the civic fund, with the addition of further expenses occurred during the furtherance of your duties in this city. I must insist that you have new suits of fine clothes made up for you at our expense; we owe you more than that for our deliverance, whether you accept the position of Baron or not.'
That should be a suitable enticement for a blacksmith's boy, he thought.
Chod kept an impassive face as he saw Grimm's expression brighten, but the young magic-user still did not speak.
'Of course, your companions are included in this generous offer,' the mayor continued, feeling a little frustrated. 'We still have superb tailors, who latterly clothed Starmor with his finery, and you will find them more than happy to provide this service, of their own free will, to the men who delivered them from bondage. We also have excellent smiths who will work any metal into any adornment or weaponry that you may desire, and who will gladly provide you with the finest accoutrements. I insist upon this as a minimal payment for your pains on our behalf. We Crarians are not ones to ignore a debt, or to leave it unpaid. It is not charity: it is gratitude. Should you refuse this, we will destroy an equal amount of the wealth each year, rather than spend it on ourselves. Our people take their obligations seriously, I assure you. I beg you to accept this offer, which comes from the bottom of my heart.'
In truth, Chod did not begrudge this largesse in the least; it was a cheap enough price for the assurance of Crar's tacit protection by the Guild and a fearsome demon.
Grimm felt uncomfortable at the thought of accepting Chod's offer and the concept of becoming rich through stolen wealth, but the mayor's expression showed the intensity of feeling that burned behind his face. Grimm understood well the concept of obligation.
What's so wrong with the idea of my becoming wealthy? he asked himself, although his mental sophistry did not entirely convince him.
He shot a glance at Dalquist again but, this time, the senior mage's expression offered him no guidance. This decision was his own, and his alone.
How many times have I heard of the fabulous spoils won from other Quests, he wondered. How many times have I read of money seized, cozened or plundered from defeated enemies?
This munificence had been offered to him on a platter, and it would be churlish to refuse. The people of Crar wanted a new start under the spiritual guidance of a new leader, a symbol of opposition to the old, hated order. Who better than Grimm Afelnor, the son and the grandson of blacksmiths; an Acclaimed Mage who had opposed and fought Starmor at every turn, and who had defeated and banished the hated tyrant?
The words came in an impulsive gush from his lips, as if somebody other than Grimm Afelnor had spoken them.
'I accept all your conditions with humility and deep gratitude, Mayor Chod, assuming that Shakkar is willing to act as my Seneschal. I will be your new Baron through thick and thin. I accept. I accept your offer with my thanks.'
He struggled to maintain his sorcerous dignity, but he fought to deny the tears that pricked at his eyelids their release. The cold, measured tones and language of a mighty Questor deserted him.
'I'm worried that I'm going to make an awful mess of the whole thing, Lord Mayor,' he said, feeling tears beginning to prickle his eyelids. He took a deep breath until sure his emotions would not betray him.
'It's going to take a lot of getting used to,' he said, with a weak smile. 'I'm accustomed to being Grimm, the Pauper. 'Grimm, Baron of Crar' sounds like somebody else, but I'll do my best to be what you expect of me;
