I am preparing to get you out, Grimm. I want you to prepare to react quickly; pattern your mind for some kind of powerful dissipative spell; just make sure you leave yourself enough energy to get back here. Stand ready.
Grimm addressed his nemesis for what he hoped would be the last time. 'Do you know something, Starmor? I have been far kinder to you than one of my former Magemasters, Kargan, would have been. He would have torn you apart with his bare hands for your disservices to the art of harmony.'
The demon shifted on his throne and rolled his head as if to soak up even more of the hideous music. 'My dear friend, you will learn to appreciate my music as I do when you are a part of my happy family-if I allow you to live. I think that will not be much longer now.'
Grimm readied a potent spell of dissolution, but he held the power in check, trusting in Dalquist. 'Farewell, Starmor. I'll see you in Hell.'
It happened as fast as thought; before Grimm knew what had happened, he found himself on the ebon pillar alongside Dalquist, and he almost slumped in relief. He opened his mouth to speak, but he closed it before a word emerged. In the inky darkness beyond the pillar's perimeter, he saw a faint, hazy, blue coruscation that grew brighter with every moment. A thin white line appeared in the centre of the blue mist and began to widen.
The young mage prepared to cast his spell, but he stopped as he felt the hand of his friend on his right shoulder.
'We aren't out of this yet, Grimm,' Dalquist said, his voice stern. 'Wait. I will give the word.'
In sick fascination, Grimm held his breath and watched the widening white line and realised it was not a line at all. It was more like a piece of paper held edge-on and then turning to face him. Now it was a pale, blazing trapezoid; now a square. A darker spot appeared in the middle, swelling into an oval.
'Now, Grimm! Now!'
As if unleashing an arrow from a bow, Grimm screamed a babble of syllables and loosed a strong burst of energy in an expanding cone before him, soon joined by a similar eruption from Dalquist. Then, silence reigned.
Starmor was gone. The white rectangle and blue haze disappeared in an instant, leaving a dark after-image on the young Questor's retinas.
As Grimm's eyes readjusted to the darkness, he saw a sift of pale mist rolling gently into the abyss surrounding the pillar.
'That dust is what remains of Starmor,' Dalquist explained. 'He was just a little too clever for his own good. I think it is safe to assume that we and the people of Crar will be free of him for at least a century. It will surely take him that long to re-integrate his body.
'Come now, Grimm. We have some tiresome civil ceremony to attend. I believe you are expected, and we're late. Let's get off this damned pillar and back to the real world.'
Chapter 13: Atonement
Dalquist had paid off Harvel and Crest the previous night, but the two warriors had elected to stay a few days in Crar, not least because the grateful Crarians insisted on buying them drinks. Early the next morning, the two mages headed back to the House.
'So, how does being a Baron feel, Grimm?' Dalquist asked, as he and Grimm mounted up and began the ride back to Arnor.
'I don't feel any different than before, Dalquist,' Grimm admitted. 'I'm still me, you know. I think I'd be feeling a lot worse if I didn't have those anti-intoxicant spells cast on Redeemer. I must have drunk enough to sink a galleon last night.'
Grimm pulled the hood of his robe over his head to shield his eyes from the bright rays of early morning sunlight. Perhaps those helpful spells were not as infallible as he had thought…
After the pair had been riding in silence for a while, Dalquist said, 'Grimm, you do know that I'm duty bound to report to Lord Thorn everything that happened on the Quest, don't you? And I do mean everything. Would you care to give me some insight into your little stunt yesterday? I would like to be able to plead at least a little mitigation.'
Grimm sighed. He knew he had been foolish to be swayed by Starmor's blandishments, but he had hoped that Dalquist might be moved to forget it, since the Quest had turned out successfully.
'I'm really sorry about being duped by that monster,' he said, accompanying his words with a shake of his head and a heartfelt sigh of ruefulness. 'My thought processes seem to have slowed down after I stopped taking those herbs, but I must have had my head stuffed with rocks to have believed Starmor.
'Basically, he used an old trick; he told me just what I wanted to hear; what I wanted to believe.'
Dalquist nodded slowly. 'Did this trick involve mention of your grandfather Loras, by any chance?'
Grimm frowned, feeling anger growing at his friend's almost patronising tone.
'Can you even imagine what it's like to be a member of a community that regards a close member of your family as a traitor, an attempted murderer, an oath-breaker?' he snapped, tightening his grip on the reins 'That was thrown at me time and again during my Ordeal, and the passage of time hasn't healed the wound too well. I wanted to believe so much that the man I lived with as a child could never have committed such a dreadful act as trying to murder a Prelate. Starmor seemed to pick right up on that, and he told me that Granfer was placed under some Compulsion or Geas that made him do what he did; that it wasn't Granfer's fault. He said my grandfather had been betrayed by a fellow mage. If I would only consider releasing him, he would give me the names of his betrayer. Once I knew what had happened to me, I was ready to kill myself before I ever allowed Starmor to return.
'I swear I had no intention of freeing him under any circumstances, but I thought using a ward to screen my emotions from him would allow me to coerce him to give me the names. I had no idea he could switch between his fourth-dimensional cubbyholes so easily. I thought using the mind-link he had with me as my travelling medium was a clever touch, allowing me to save energy without any risk of Starmor returning along any Translocation portal.
'I can only apologise for my folly, Dalquist.' Grimm sighed. 'But I can't excuse it. I imagine Lord Thorn won't be too happy, but I guess your duty is your duty.'
Dalquist sat in apparent contemplation for some time, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. The silence seemed almost tangible to Grimm, broken only by the occasional whinny from the horses; several minutes passed before the older man spoke. He looked deeply troubled.
'Grimm, since we seem to be in a confessional mode of conversation, I will have to admit that I feel somewhat guilty about thinking ill of you yesterday. I never doubted your intentions, but I was all ready to leave you behind and head off back to the House; it was only the sight of one of Redeemer's shoes that drew me back. When I realised the truth, I felt like I had been a fool as well.
'I will let you into a secret, Grimm. I want your solemn assurance that it will go no further.' Dalquist's expression was stern, and Grimm vowed that he would keep his mouth closed.
Dalquist cleared his throat in a nervous fashion. 'On my fourth Quest, Xylox the Mighty was Senior Questor. I was a Questor of the Third Rank at the time, having completed two Quests on the behalf of High Lodge and one for the House. My Quests had brought me no luck as far a booty was concerned, whereas Xylox had abundant wealth. He had any number of magical gems and artefacts and, of course, those seven rings on his staff…'
Grimm nodded. As he knew only too well, the lack of a single gold ring on Redeemer marked its owner as a mere beginner. In the class-obsessed Guild, rank was all, and he quite understood his friend's feelings of inferiority.
'We had just completed a long and arduous Quest,' the older Questor continued, 'part of which took place in the sewers below Musado City. I was not in the best of moods because I had ruined a perfectly good new robe. We had been sleeping rough in the middle of winter, and all we had to show for it was four miserable gold pieces.
