Night Arrant

The Five Dragon Bowl

"Diggwell Biffson is the name. Do call me Biff, though. If you please. Your Faithfulness."

"Diggwell? Yes, I recall. That is a fine, upstanding name amongst halflings of the Welkwood region, unless I am mistaken. …"

"No. no. You are quite correct," the gray-clad halfling assured him. "I hail from that very place."

"Why go by so odd a name as Biff then, my good halfling?" the cleric asked earnestly. "You should proudly bear the name of your famous ancestors."-

The small fellow squirmed at that, trying to think of how he could get this man off the subject. "To be blunt sir, there were so many Diggwells, Dugwalls, Diggerlys, Diggdeeps. Diggsons, and so forth in my family — and I had so many aunts and uncles, not to mention cousins, that I couldn't keep track of them — that my own mother named me Biff, and so it has been since I was but a tiny tot of twelve!"

Satisfied at that, the clergyman went on to the subject that Biff feared he would. "Coming from a fine area and upstanding folk, why is it you follow such a low calling? Consider carefully the end it would surely lead to, my boy!"

The halfling was older than Poztif, who was a cleric of some repute and a staunch supporter of weal and order. But Biff didnt feel any older. Years were one matter, wisdom and maturity another. He looked down, shuffled his feet, and then looked up brightly. "You see, Good Poztif, it was the desire of my friend and mentor, the lordly Melf, that I take up the profession of thievery so as to assist him in ways his prowess with sword and spell were unable to accomplish!"

Shaking his head in amazement and sadness at the elven condition that would encourage dishonest behavior in a halfling, Poztif grasped the small fellow's hand, saying, "Dig — Biff. I mean — I hope that our association will be a useful and pious experience from which I will gain humility and understanding and you a change of heart. Let us off!"

Biff nodded, withdrew his hand quickly to make a sign to ward off ill-omened occurrences, and trotted after the long-legged cleric. "I too wish to make our enterprise all it should be — just as our liege lords, Tenser the Arch-Mage and Melf of the Green Arrow, have instructed us."

Poztif grunted at that, for it seemed the halfling was rebutting his piety and efforts. Well, it would be a challenge to accomplish both the task required of him by the mage and his own hopes of salvation for the strayed Biff. Poztif relished the prospect.

Elsewhere, an ill-matched duo walked slowly along Hundred Step Street toward a rendezvous neither desired. A hulking, six-foot, eight-inch tall hillman from the distant East paced beside a dark-haired young thief from Old City's slums who was just five and a half feet tall — in boots.

Chert and Gord had recently returned from an altogether unpleasant adventure. They were arguing heatedly as they went neither actually coming right out and accusing, but each blaming the other fellow for their predicament.

"You led us into that damn little alley," the barbarian said, spitting his words in vehement disgust.

"And you were all in favor of it at the time," Gord retorted.

Chert shrugged and then scowled down at the small thief. "But I agreed to follow your superb plan to get us out of Rel Mord, didnt i?"

"And we got out, too, didn't we?" Gord shot back with heavy sarcasm and a look that bespoke volumes about the stupidity of a certain giant who walked beside him.

Chert balled a meaty fist but restrained his impulse. "And look where it got us, you little dolt!" he said between clenched teeth while waving the fist he did not really intend to use in front of Gord's face.

"Oh stop bitching." the young thief said in disgust "So we have to do a little favor to repay the chap who bailed us out. What's the difference? It's just another job. The halfling seems clever, and the cleric has laid a sound plan."

"I'll tell you the difference — your idea stunk and would have landed us in prison for the rest of our lives, unless our enemies managed to have us assassinated or Quodilde got you first! When the king got wind of what was actually going on we were meat on the table, that's what! if he hadn't owed a favor, and we hadn't agreed to repay it for him through our cooperation, where would we be? I'll tell you where — in Archbold's deepest dungeon, that's where!" Chert's nostrils flared as he spoke with intense fury.

"Well, we're not in any dungeon. And what we agreed to is in accord with our usual activities. The mission is beneficial."

"To those whom we must serve." Chert noted as he stomped down one of the long tiers that gave the street its name.

Gord was hard pressed to reply to that in normal circumstances he and the huge hillman would reap all the rewards from an undertaking of this nature. Now they were to serve and assist others, and the payment they received would be dictated by another. "At least we'll have the assistance of others, so our risk will be much less than usual," said the thief. "In this undertaking we do need help."

"Such cattle crap!" growled Chert. "You know damned well that you and I will end up doing everything, the others will take the treasure, and we'll get a handful of coppers and a pat on the head for risking our lives. After this, I'll never allow myself to be cozened into another of your hoddy-peaked schemes, Gord. Hereafter you are on your own!"

That was sufficient to have started the young thief off on a tirade of his own, but just then they clumped down the last of the steps and turned onto the Avenue of the Bells. The place they were to meet their associates was but a short distance away. There was no time for an angry brawl now.

"Ill be very happy to have my fists discuss this matter with yours at a little later date, if you like, but right now we have some business to discuss with two others." Gord cautioned his friend.

"Hey, pal. Just name the time and the place and my fists will be happy to be there!" Chert agreed wholeheartedly.

The Silver Castle inn was one of the better such establishments in Greyhawk. Because it was located near the city's Administrative Center, the Artisans' District, and the large religious community as well, the inn housed a varied clientele who, diverse as they were in beliefs and backgrounds, had one thing in common — they were all well-to-do.

"And this is a terrible place to meet, too!"

"Get a hold on your tongue now, Chert," Gord said with a conciliatory tone and a sense of urgency. "We can't allow others to see we are at odds in this situation. While the two who are aiding us are supposedly of benign sort, we must be careful nonetheless. I know nothing of those who are behind this thing save what the Nyrondel told us. And I put no trust in royalty!"

"For once, little man, I agree." the barbarian said sourly but thereafter clamped his mouth shut in a determined line and ducked his head to enter the inn.

Both young adventurers were dressed in their best garments. If the giant was surprising in his size and ruggedness, his clothing was such that the major domo of the inn bowed greetings and muttered vague compliments at the honor of their gracing his inn with their custom. Gord and Chert displayed finery and wealth more typical of aristocratic establishments of the High and Garden Quarters of Greyhawk, and the fellow was determined to take no chances with such a pair.

"What might I do for your noble selves?" the man inquired unctuously.

Gord quickly stepped before his big companion. "We are here to stay — this night and perhaps longer if accommodations are to our satisfaction. Your finest suite, and quickly!"

"Of course, sirs. Shall I have a lackey fetch your equippage?"

"There is none to be fetched," Gord sneered as he eyed the major domo with disdain. "What we require we purchase, discarding soiled apparel for the use of those who cannot afford fresh clothing daily — and on the morrow we will need clothiers immediately after we break our fast. Do see to it"

"We have the Grand Tower, your worships." the major domo ventured hesitantly, not sure if these extravagant-sounding young men were really what they seemed, or swindlers of some sort attempting to dupe the Silver Castle. Such was not unknown or unusual at a place such as this.

Without an obvious show of coins, Gord managed to display a handful of platinum plates before discovering a gold orb in his purse. Chert had refused to pitch in the money to pull off this ruse, so Gord had been forced to dip into his private funds. He handed the golden coin to the apprehensive manager with a small sigh of resignation.

"Such a bother, this! Here is an advance against our stay. Have a cold supper, Keolsh amber wine, and the usual amenities ready immediately. You do have hot tubs, I presume — and be sure the wine is chilled."

The proprietor's head had been bobbing furiously in all directions as it attempted to provide quick answers to Gord's onslaught of questions. He now hastened to add verbal assurance as well. "Oh, of course, your nobility. The Silver Castle is at your disposal. Rest assured that all will be ready for you and your companion in as brief a time as possible!"

Gord yawned and tapped his foot against a well-polished floorboard in a display of boredom and impatience.

Chert looked down at the anxious fellow, a puzzled frown expertly fixed in place. "Just how long must we wait for your varlets to prepare our suite?"

"We are most efficient, but I fear it will take a small amount of time nonetheless. Please utilize our salon to relax and refresh yourselves. I will personally inform you when all is in readiness."

"Very well, then, my good man. If we have no choice in the matter, then at least show us to the salon." Gord said with an air of resignation.

Seated comfortably in padded armchairs, Gord and Chert sipped wine and pretended indifference to their surroundings.

"What a stupid trick that was," Chert accused in a low voice. "Why not simply ask for the common room or salon? You’ve- "

"Managed to get us both into the place without arousing suspicion as to why we're here!" Gord inserted in an arrogant but hushed tone. "Your way would have alerted everyone that we were come to meet with-"

"The two we'll soon be meeting within minutes anyway! Now we're the focus of attention! All eyes will be on the two flamboyant fools who throw money around and- "

"Happen to meet other travelers," Gord finished. "They are here now, in fact. Let us quit this crap and discourse on matters metaphysical and theological, shall we?"

Chert glared at the small thief and managed a low growl before beginning to converse in a normal tone of voice regarding certain precepts held by worshipers of an unnamed deity.

Gord took an opposite position, countering with acid tongue the assertions that the huge hillman continued to make. They argued back and forth in this manner for several minutes, then Chert turned and seemed to suddenly notice that there were others in the room.

"Now, my not-so-learned friend," he said loudly to Gord," we shall see just who has the better position in this dispute!" With a warm smile and confident beating, the great fellow arose and went to a nearby table where a sober cleric in a dark cloak sat and conversed with a halfling. "My apologies for interrupting you, pious sir and worthy halfling, but my companion and I have been at odds regarding certain tenets of theology and metaphysical constructs that a man of your calling can surely resolve for us. May I impose upon your kindness to mediate and judge our differences? We offer our hospitality in return, of course."

The slender cleric stood and nodded a greeting. "The calling I follow requires my acceptance of such a request and happily so. But do I have your leave to bring my associate along? I would not wish to simply leave him sitting here," the robed man said. Indicating the demi-human.

"But of course! You and he are both welcome. Is this halffing a priestly sort as well?"

Biff sprang from the too-large chair with alacrity. "Allow me to introduce myself and my associate. You are addressing His Faithfulness Poztif, Gleam of Pholtus. I. noble sir, am Biff, a humble gem merchant and pilgrim now, accompanying His Faithfulness to a distant shrine according to a holy vow I made."

Poztif dismissed the importance inferred by the halfling's introduction. "I am a lowly cleric seeking greater understanding and piety. This good fellow has been so kind as to agree to accompany me and assist me in giving instruction and learning patience. Let us join the two of you now. Perhaps the matter can be resolved without undue discourse."

The three debated the question at length in an attempt to create an illusion for anyone who might suspect their purpose, and for the benefit of one patron in particular. As a pilgrim Biff had no part in the talk, so he merely sat there, sipped his stout, and considered the circumstances that had brought him to the inn.

Melf had been elsewhere on business when a message from his cousin, Silverthom, arrived in the city of Fax while the halfling was there awaiting his master's return. Silverthom had written that Melf must come home to Greyhawk at once if he wished to protect some property he had left in her charge. That posed a real dilemma for Biff. Frankly, his master seldom explained his activities to the halfling. Biff was dissatisfied with having to remain inactive and virtually penniless in Fax, cooling his heels as he considered it, while Melf had exciting adventures elsewhere that for reasons the halfling could not fathom, failed to include a halfling with warrior skills and a thief s nimble fingers.

Biff had decided to respond to Silverthorn's urgent missive at once. There was no property of significance to guard in, Fax, merely the small villa that Melf had leased. No objection could be made, the halfling reasoned, for wasn't the need of his cousin and the threat of loss of things Melf had left in her care a sufficient reason for the halfiing to leave his assigned post and hasten to Greyhawk as a surrogate for his absent master? Certainty! Without wasting any more time. Biff had gone northward to the great free city, happy for the opportunity to travel and do something that held the prospect of both danger and reward.

Silverthom had been surprised to see him, but under the circumstances she was pleased enough to have someone on hand to help. The situation, as told by her, was complicated, to say the least.

"You see. Biff, my clever halfling friend, it all started when I went out to seek a little amusement in this dreary city. I met a good-looking fellow — he had elvish blood, of course — who told me that he was also a dweomercraefter, and that he was the trusted henchman of a noble wizard who would happily have me as apprentice until mine own instructor returned." The tale went on and on until Silverthorn finally related how she had been tricked into furnishing a surety to this wizard. It was supposedly proof of her good nature and honesty. Instead, the ring — one that granted invisibility and one of Melf’s favorite possessions — had been stolen by the wily trickster, and she was left without recourse.

Silerthorn told Biff how, while searching to locate the one who had so foully duped her, she had eventually met a holy priest who had offered not only to restore the ring or to give her one of like sort, but to provide other payment as well, if she could enlist the services of her master in a small and righteous undertaking the cleric had need to accomplish. She asked Biff if he could somehow manage to fill in for Melf.

"I am a faithful and obedient vassal," the halfling had assured the frantic young Sitverthorn. "If I can restore Melfs property, uphold his name, and assist you, fair lady, all at the same time, how can I do else but agree to take up the challenge?"

"How can I ever, ever repay you. Biff?"

"It is nothing for a bold adventurer such as I, Silverthorn. We will find some way. I'm confident. . "

Convincing the humorless and sober cleric was another matter. How he finally managed it, Biff was still not sure, but he had eventually brought the doubtful chap around to accepting him as the surrogate magic-user Poztif had actually sought Without a lie, without actually making claims that were false, Biff had managed to put across the notion that Melf had assigned him the task of responding to Silverthorn's need. The elf, Biff said truthfully, was on a mission from which he could not be recalled.

After all, was not Tenser, the liege lord of Poztif, likewise so engaged that he had appointed the cleric as agent in the matter? Agreement was unavoidable, and Biff was accepted. Thus he and the priest of Pholtus had come to the Silver Tower to work their stratagem.

"Who are these two who will assist us?" Biff had queried.

"Lord Tenser merely told me that a huge and doughty warrior and a swordsman of great athletic and acrobatic prowess would meet me and give all assistance," Poztif had told the halfling. "The good arch-mage had used a favor owed him by a monarch I shall not reveal, for reasons you surely understand, to assure that I would have all the aid I would need in accomplishing the duty he bestowed upon me."

What an unlikely pair the two were! Biff eyed the small human. His experienced gaze detected that which made him think that this Gord was a practitioner of the same craft Biff himself followed. The small man's huge companion was a rough and ready barbarian masquerading in fashionable apparel, no question of that. So, a stout fighter and a skilled pair of thieves to back up this straight-laced priest in the quest. It should be easy! He would swear Silverthorn to secrecy in return for gaining a ring such as the one she had stupidly lost, keep the balance of the payment given for services to himself, relieve his boredom in the process, and none would be the wiser.

"Now that I have had the opportunity to study things firsthand, halfling." Poztif had said as Biff had been convincing him of things, "the need for a capable caster of magic is great. How can one of your sort assist in such a need?"

"Your Faithfulness," the halfling had said earnestly and sincerely. "I am no mean fellow when it comes to dweomere." He had patted his staff confidently, nodded solemnly, and had risen straight up to the low celling of the cleric's chamber. Returning as slowly, Biff had said. "The dweomer is but one of many that I can call upon in time of need. My services in this quest are indispensable!" Not suspecting that he used magical boots to levitate thus, the somber priest had finally agreed to accept Biff as a member of the group sent to accomplish his liege lord's desire.

". . and I believe this strongly attests to the absolute superiority of East over West and the irrefutability of the position that the five sorts of evil dragons represent but four elements. To hold that the Western view of five elements is proven by dragons is a complete fallacy!"

This loud challenge was no easy task for the huge barbarian. Gord had spent several hours helping the poorly educated hillman memorize the speeches he would have to make. To Chert and Gord's surprise and satisfaction, the hillman had pulled off this presentation without so much as a stammer.

Chert did not understand many of the words he used in his argument, but he was convincing nonetheless — so much so that Poztif followed up by saying, "Indeed!" and nodding his head in agreement, Biff, drawn out of his reminiscing, watched with keen-eyed interest as Gord offered his rebuttal.

"What force or merit does this assertion have, my friends?" he said, addressing both the barbarian and the cleric. "In all due respect, yours is more a scholarly argument than one of theological sort. What say you, pilgrim?"

Biff took the cue easily. "I cannot fault my spiritual guide's learned and pious opinion, yet I find myself supposing that five elements are possible."

"Exactly!" Gord said with forceful delight heavy in his tone. "Red is fire, blue is metal, green wood, black earth, and white air!"

"Your pardon, sirs, but I must suggest that both sides are wrong and right at the same time."

All heads turned at this. A lean and cadaverous man at a nearby table had been the speaker. As the four turned in response to his interjection, the man arose, smiled eerily, and made a stiff bow. "Allow me to introduce myself. Sirs. I am Maegus Yeo, a dealer in antiques and rarities. If I may be so bold, I am also a scholar of some repute on the Far West and its metaphysical teachings. My honored father actually came from the Suhfang Kingdom — a place virtually unknown to the Flanaess, but a veritable wonder amongst all lands, I assure you."

"Your interjection is no offense, honorable scholar." Poztif said with a pious tone. His three companions murmured agreement and Gord added, "Your knowledge must be exceptional, Scholar Yeo, and I thank you for enlightening us. Will you tell us how it could be that we are right and wrong at the same time?"

The sallow-skinned man gave his superior smile once again, causing his thin, drawn features to appear more skull-like than living. "I am always delighted to share my humble learning with those of inquiring intellect," he replied.

Chert stood up and drew a nearby chair to the table where the four sat, hoisting the heavy seat as easily as if it was a flimsy stool. "Pray join us then. Master Yeo, and we will learn," he said.

"Actually it's Venerable Prince Yeo, if titles are to be used," the man said with a haughty gesture. "Some refer to me as a savant, others as a sage, but I am a simple man, so Scholar Yeo is sufficient. And whom do I have the honor of addressing?"

After proper introductions and the ordering of a special tea for the strange fellow, Maegus Yeo told them the truth of the whole matter. "You, Master Gord, and the little hairy fellow for that matter, are correct in stating that Western metaphysical perceptions are the only conceivable expressions of truth. Five elements there are and always shall be. That was long ago proven by Scholar Thu Kin Boh."

Gord smiled and began to preen. "Then my argument prevails. .?"

"Not so, young fellow," Yeo corrected him sharply. "Dragons of the East have no connection with the elements. Only those of true sort, the imperial Dragons of Suhiang, are born of the elements."

"There are dragons that stem from the very planes of the four — sorry, five, you say — elements?" Poztif said this with a doubting expression.

Yeo seemed offended. "Pious cleric of the East, I do not speak of what I do not know. I assure you that there are five elements and five imperial Dragons that are born and dwell within them, visiting the world conglomerate only when they so choose — or are summoned."

"Most enlightening, Scholar Yeo. Will you please tell me of these marvelous creatures?" Gord nearly pleaded. "And I am most anxious to learn how each is distinguished from the other."

"Of course, and I shall oblige in a small way. Golden is the color of the Fire Dragon, green that of Water, while blue is certainly of Air. The imperial Dragon of silvery hue is of Metal, and the one of violet shade is associated with Wood."

The four others at the table began an animated discussion of the matter then, getting immersed in their quarrel over elements and colors and the possibility of different sorts of dragons existing at all. In the process they apparently virtually forgot that the scholarly Yeo was present. Although not one of the four seemed to notice it, being ignored like this made the scholar frown and grow irritated. After tensely fidgeting for several minutes and alternately picking up and then putting down his cup of tea, the man could no longer restrain himself.

"My honorable progenitor often remarked that the ignorance of your sort is monumental. You four, however, give even greater meaning to his words, and for this I must thank you. In return for such a favor, may I demonstrate the truth?"

"How so, Master Yeo?" Chert asked with forced sweetness.

"Scholar Yeo! Yet, I am also a collector as well as a purveyor of rarities and antiques. My humble gallery is just around the corner on the Avenue of the Temples. I would be forever honored if you would accompany me there now. Perhaps a look at my Five Dragon Bowl will prove beneficial in resolving this unnecessary conflict."

After a brief conversation regarding, the man's-helpfulness and his undeserved kindness to them, the four disparate debaters enthusiastically allowed that the scholar's generous offer of enlightenment could not be refused. Following after the cadaverous Maegus Yeo like steps, with the halfling first Gord next, then the cleric, and finally Chert bringing up the rear, they departed the Silver Castle inn.

Poztif was pleased. So far everything had gone according to plan, from the rendezvous with the two added members of the party to the enticement of Yeo. Even so, the cleric was a little troubled about his part in gulling the strange man. No! He must not doubt the right ness of his mission, and he had not lied. He did not hold with the theory of five elements, and this business of dragons and their hues was most certainty balderdash. More important, he knew that Maegus Yeo was a vile minion of blackest evil, a servant of the Lower Planes, and the agent of a malevolent conspiracy here in Greyhawk. What Poztif was doing would serve Good and the nations who upheld weal, and would benefit his liege lord in many ways. It was just and proper.

"Here we are," said the strange scholar Yeo. "Now turn away while I dispel protections and turn the locks."

Gord, surreptitiously peeking to see the means by which Yeo manipulated the portal so as to make it safe to enter, noted as he did so that the halfling was likewise engaged. A clever little thief for sure, Gord said to himself. I shall watch him closely when there are valuables about!

However, despite the efforts of both thieves, the evil Yeo was watching the group too closely to allow any discoveries. "I believe I asked you to turn away!" he snapped at Gord at one point, pausing in his procedures until the young thief had turned his red face away from Yeo.

"Enter!" Yeo said finally.

The four comrades trooped through the portal, and Yeo shut and re-locked the bronze-barred door of oak and iron. The corridor was short, and a lamp burned in the room beyond, so they had no trouble making their way therein.

"My shop." Yeo said emotionlessly. "It is not of interest at this time, for what I have to show you is kept elsewhere. Follow me."

The room they passed through was sparsely furnished with small tables and stands. Each held a leering statue of primitive sort, various jars, or other miscellaneous materials. Gord got the impression of hanging racks and recessed shelves that were crowded with other objects. Then the four were in a hallway. Yeo walked past a flight of stairs leading up, commenting that his own domicile lay above. This was true as far as Poztif knew, for the strange man was known to dwell above his studio and frequent the inn of the Silver Castle, where, if not in his personal chambers, could the fabulous object they sought then be? The answer was forthcoming from Maegus Yeo himself.

"Now we must descend to the cellar beneath us. The steps are old and worn. Use caution. Also, I have guards of unusual sort to protect my property. I must descend first and see that they are properly restrained. When I call, you are to come down — not a moment before. Is that clear?"

"Of course. Scholar Yeo," Poztif replied respectfully. "We would not ignore your kind admonition."

Looking back over his shoulder, his sallow face ghastly in the dim light of the oil lamp he held, Yeo regarded Poztif unwinkingly for a moment. "That is well. Perhaps greater things could be in store for such a remarkably good person such as yourself." At that he swiveled his head and went on down the curved steps of stone polished smooth and slippery by the passage of countless feet over the years.

There came a clinking, as if a chain was being drawn, then the sounds of a heavy lock being turned and an even heavier door being opened. A sing-song chant came wafting up the stairs for a moment, muffled and almost inhuman in its tone, and then a violet-tinged light filled the stairway, sharply delineating the steps with its odd luminescence. "Please descend," called Yeo from below. After passing through the great door of iron that stood open at the base of the stairs, the four went directly into the area beyond. The place was incredible! Yeo had paneled and screened the whole expanse under his building, so that what lay below resembled a fabulous, exotic temple. Hundreds of weird tapers had evidently been caused to spring into flame through some device of Yeo's. They shed the violet light over the whole scene. Thick carpets of plum and black with counter-colored design and touches of other somber hues covered the floor. The walls were paneled in purplish wood, intricately carved, while screens of mauve and gilt decorated or concealed who knew what.

Fantastic objects were everywhere — low chairs and tables of strange design and workmanship, embroidered cushions, painted panels and pottery, silk tapestries and coverings, statuettes and sculptures of all sorts. An altarlike table stood before a translur cent block of lilac stone, a rectangular cube larger than the huge hillman who gaped at it. How such a piece of mineral got into the cellar, or just what the stuff was, none of the four viewing it could guess.

"So, my special abode affects you," Yeo noted with a dry chuckle. "Most of what is here you could not possibly understand or appreciate. Here," he said as he stepped to the long, carved and inlaid altar table and stooped to pick something up from its center, "is the object I spoke of. It is proof that the wisdom and knowledge of the West is far greater than you of Oerik and the Flanaess dream."

Without any flourish Yeo held out the item. Chert wondered how such a massive bowl could be held so steadily by so scrawny a pair of arms, but Yeo's grip was seemingly light and his arms thrust the object out for the others' inspection. "Observe the work. It depicts the five Elemental Dragons, each surrounded by symbols of its element. See how each bites at the tail of the next? That demonstrates their intermixture and hostility, all in one."

"The work is indeed marvelous!" Biff exclaimed.

"Aren't those precious gems each dragon holds in his claws?"

Maegus Yeo withdrew the three-foot-diameter dish with a sneer. "I should have expected one of your sort to notice the crass detail of an otherwise superb work. Ah, but notice the material from which it was made, the painstaking labor of painting and gilding, the inlays, the firing to bring it all into a harmonious whole. . " His voice trailed off as Yeo became lost in admiration of his possession.

Poztif broke the uneasy silence. "The bowl is indeed a masterpiece. Scholar Yeo, but I am not convinced that it serves to prove the assertion of five elements."

Maegus Yeo looked up, and in the strange illumination it almost seemed his thin face was no more than a skull glaring at them. Addressing the cleric, he said. "For some there is no proof short of the final reckoning. Few can understand the true nature of all and its inevitable conclusion. You, however, a learned cleric of Pholtus, I observe, are perfect for teaching." With what seemed an evil leer on his face, Yeo bowed to each of the other three, saying, "Allow me but a moment, and I will see that you are amused and entertained while your clerical companion and I proceed to discover whether or not there is truth in the supposition of five elements."

"What are you going to …" Gord began, but the sallow-faced man was already moving off into a shadowy alcove partitioned from the main room by a row of the screens that were everywhere within this chamber. Poztif followed for a few steps but then stood and waited when it became obvious that Yeo did not intend for the cleric to follow him.

"Look out for this guy." Chert hissed to Gord. "I'm beginning to think he's a dangerous lunatic of some kind."

Biff and Gord exchanged looks that spoke volumes. "Yeah. Chert, old chap. I think we both agree with your assessment," Gord supplied.

Just then Maegus Yeo reappeared, draped in a violet-and-black shawl, a twisted staff in one hand and a smaller instrument in the other. He pointed the convoluted piece of dark wood at Poztif, and a lilac-hued ray bathed the unsuspecting cleric.

"Hey, what's happening?" Gord cried, his hand going to his sword hilt. The stuff of the ray seemed to have substance of its own. and it congealed and formed to sheathe Poztif in a mummylike wrapping of color. For a second or two the cleric struggled, but then the ray twisted and enwrapped him as a cocoon, and he was motionless in its grip.

"Grab the sodder, Gord!" Chert bellowed, but Yeo was already in motion, babbling a weird series of one-syllable sounds in incredibly varied pitch, from high soprano to bass and everywhere in between. The skeletal form danced about as he sang thus. He took a second to thrust the staff into the belt of his robe and then raised the object he held in his right hand. The thing was of puce color, opalescent, and left a trail of faint amethystine coruscations in its wake as Yeo waved it above and around his head. None present knew exactly what it was. but it was obviously a magic item of some sort.

The cadaverous figure leaped and shouted, robe and shawl flapping as if affected by a wind that blew on him alone. Chert, Gord. and Biff moved forward to engage Yeo but, his sallow visage contorted hideously, he danced back into the shadows screeching in triumph.

Gord had both his sword and dagger drawn and ready. The enchantment on the former weapon enabled him to see through the gloom of the chamber, and he cried a warning to his companions. "Beware all, there are undead here!"

The halfling. armed with his own, shorter sword, moved up beside Gord and shouted to the cleric, "Poztif! Aid us now!" But the cleric was of no use in his present state.

"Blistering brazen balls!" Chert fairly groaned the expostulation, grabbing for a weapon that was not there. "Were my good axe Brool here now, I'd mow those zombies down like wheat!" He pulled forth the small sword he carried at his hip and readied to face the shuffling corpse-things.

"Biff, see to your friend Poztifl" the young thief said without looking at the halfling. "Yeo's fell staff worked some foul bonding upon him!" Then Gord turned to concentrate on the undead monsters that approached in slow, creaking steps, shedding moldering bits of flesh and exuding a putrid stench as they came.

Maegus Yeo was somewhere among these things now, exhorting them on. "On, dear ancestors, faithful guardians of imperial Suhfang in the decadent East. These foul men would desecrate our temple and steal the holy relics you placed in my trust. Send them to gibber and beg in the nethermost regions of Hades for the glory of dark Nerull!"

"Throw something heavy at them. Chert!" Gord said loudly. "I fear we're in for something we won't like. "

The big barbarian made a razzing sound but nevertheless picked up a low-backed chair with one hand and flung it toward the bony legs of the horrid corpses that slowly approached. The missile impacted with a sound of snapping twigs as brittle bones cracked and splintered. Two of the undead things were scrabbling around on the floor, but were quickly upright and advancing again. "Their rotten bones fly together and mend themselves!" Chert muttered in astonishment.

Gord, who had seen the whole process, set his teeth and leaped to attack one end of the line of corpses. "Keep knocking them down anyway! it's all you can do!" Then he hacked and slashed at the stinking creature that was turning and reaching for him.

Meanwhile, the halfling was in a real quandary. Biff ran around and around the frozen form of Poztif, afraid to touch the lilac light that seemed to crawl rather than flow around the body it encompassed. Even as Biff paused and pondered on a course of action, there was a pulse of deeper color. A beam of lilac reached out from the cleric and fastened itself to the block of translucent mineral. The mineral began to grow brighter, and its surface showed a layer of transparent material of the same hue and as bright as the light that enveloped the unmovtng cleric. The stone seemed to attain a tremendous depth as Biff stared at its surface. It was like peering off a mountaintop into the vast regions beyond, while the mists obscured the scene. And now Biff could see that something was moving within those depths!

"Help me!" he shouted. "A dragon comes from within the stone!"

Coughing and retching from the vileness of the stench that arose when he'd sundered the undead corpse that he had attacked. Gord allowed the rotting parts to fall as they may. Chert had dropped his useless little sword in favor of furniture. A heavy screen flew edgewise into a group of the advancing corpses, tossing them back, snapping limbs as if they were matchsticks. These same monsters would arise unharmed moments from now, but every attack bought time.

"Use everything available to slow those things, Chert!" said Gord. "I'll go aid the halfiing."

Just then a beam of violet-tinged light sprang past him. Gord felt the hair on the back of his neck rise in horripilation at the nearness of the ray. If he exposed himself going to the aid of Biff, the terrible Yeo would engulf him in the same stuff he'd used to blind the cleric. He shouted to the halfling, "Catch — and ‘ware the point! it slices stone as cheese."

The dagger turned lazily in the air. Biff saw it coming in the light given off by the glowing mineral and snared its pommel easily, ducking quickly thereafter to avoid another bolt from the twisted staff of Maegus Yeo, this time meant for the hafling!

"Use the dagger, man, before it's too late!" Gord shouted in desperation.

"This had better work as the young fellow claims," Biff muttered to himself, "or Poztif and I. too. are fodder for that. . " The snaky form of a violet-colored dragon was sinuously turning and twisting, growing larger as if approaching through mists of stuff that palely reflected its own coloration. Although to Biffs eyes the dragon was no larger than a smallish lizard, the halfling somehow knew it was actually of monstrous proportion. Without thinking further. Biff thrust the dagger at the threatening form coming through the now-transparent stone.

"Graauuugh!"

The roar of pain seemed to come from a vast distance, yet it nearly ruptured the halfling's eardrums. The sound reverberated through the underground room, and Yeo howled mournfully when he heard the strange sound of pain. It was as if he, too, suffered.

"The bloody dag sunk in to its hilt!" Biff cried in excitement and delight. When the blade pierced the rock, the tongue of metal seemed to elongate and grow small at the same time. It had barely pricked the oncoming dragon, and in proportion to the monster it had seemed only needle-sized, but its touch had sorely troubled the creature. Biff pulled out and thrust the poinard into the lilac-hued block again and again, watching the results. The roars and screams of the dragon redoubled, and the thunderous noise grew louder as the monster slowly increased in size and moved toward the exit from its transparent prison.

"It's coming out!" the halfling yelled as he jerked away from the stone, fear scribed in etched lines across his little face.

While all this was going on, Gord and Chert had continued their combat against the undead ancestors of the evil Maegus Yeo. Staying on the move and using the skeletal monsters as shields against Yeo's staff, they each attacked as they could. Of the ten that had appeared. Gord had felled one almost immediately, then continued hacking mightily on another, having to bound and weave with all his skill to avoid the touch of the grasping bones of their clawed hands. The exercise was tiring for Gord and not especially devastating to the undead creatures. Eight of the things still came toward them, only one of them bearing damage from Gord's sword.

"Yeow! Watch out!" Chert cried, dodging a missile that whizzed by and was heading straight for Gord. "Gord!" Chert screamed as his friend was hit by one of the evil bolts.

Gord felt like his entire body was alive with static energy. But the effect quickly wore off. and the momentarily triumphant Yeo quickly shot another bolt in the young thiefs direction. Again, the same thing happened, with Gord recovering a little more rapidly this time. "Your staffs getting short on energy, eh?" Gord taunted, this time successfully ducking his evil host's attempted attack.

Gord and Chert were slowly being forced by the undead monsters back to where the huge stone was, with Poztif immobile and light-enwrapped a short distance from it Chert was out of things to hurl at the undead ancestors of the shrieking Yeo, Gord's sword was doing little good, and as the two of them were pushed back, they saw that Biff was standing stock-still, horror-stricken, staring at the stone.

Chert ran to help the halfling. Taking the dagger from Biff's limp grasp, the barbarian wrapped it in his mighty palm and struck. A leglike extremity tipped by a claw larger than the halfling was reaching outward from the transparent stone, heading for the immobile cleric. Before the claw managed to grab Poztif, the magically keen blade sliced the relatively thin leg attached to the taloned forefoot cleanly off. This time the roar of agony from the dragon deafened all in the room, stunning and dizzying even the rotting corpses.

Yeo reeled, his cry of agony as high and piercing as the dragon's had been basso and ear-splitting. The strange man fell in a heap, holding his arm and keening. The spurt of ichor from the dragon within the stone had started a reversal of the mineral. It was now growing cloudy and translucent again, the reptilian form within it receding and growing ever more obscured. As the blood soaked deeper into the stone, tiny cracks appeared in its surface, and then the block split into several fragments with a sharp, booming sound.

"What's happening?" Poztif asked in a shaky voice. "I felt as if I was suffocating, and I thought I saw a mighty dragon about to devour met Where are we?"

"Good cleric, we are right where we were but moments before," Chert told him. "But foul things of undead form are attacking! You must do something immediately!"

Poztif needed no further prompting. He wiped his forehead as if to clear away cobwebs, turned to quickly apprize what was happening, then grasped his silvery, sun-shaped holy symbol, "Back to your graves, monstrous unrealities!" he chanted forcefully. "Your unclean spirits to the nether planes, your evil intentions withering in the Light of Burning Truth."

As if struck by a hammer, the recovering things were spun and turned about simultaneously. Reeling and tottering, they retreated from the cleric, heading toward the recess that Yeo had called them from, as bright swirls of silvery-gold light danced and played upon their rotted flesh and decaying bones.

By this time Maegus Yeo had apparently recovered. The pain seemed gone from his right arm, for in it he now held the twisted staff.

"You still lose, bastards of Goodness!" He thrust forth the staff, but only a feeble, dark purple glow came from it jumping up and down in rage, Yeo tried the attack again and again. At the last attempt the staff simply turned into dry splinters and fell to the richly carpeted floor. With a shriek of hatred, the man darted and interposed himself between the retreating undead and the recess toward which they were heading. Turn back and attack!" he exhorted them. "You must obey me. Am I not the Supreme One?"

Before Yeo could say more, two of the rotted corpses had him. He was dragged along in their retreat, howling and shrieking unintelligible things in his sing-song speech.

"Shall we pursue?" Chert asked the cleric when Yeo and his cohorts had vanished.

"No, I believe that Yeo has gone to join his ancestors and will trouble us, and others, no more."

"Hey! Where's Gord and the halfling?" the barbarian suddenly asked.

Poztif looked around and spotted the two near the long table, each trying to tug the bowl away from the grasp of the other without making a disturbance. "Such behavior is shameful!" the cleric admonished the squabbling pair.

"But pretty typical, Poztif." Chert advised the man. "Perhaps you might find it worthwhile to instruct both on the path they should be following."

Gord and Biff were ignoring the cleric and the barbarian, alternately reaching into the deep dish and moving their hands rapidly. Chert moved closer to see what was going on. "Cut it out, you pair of thieves," he said in a low, threatening tone. "That bowl goes out of here intact with Poztif — that's the vow we agreed to!"

Biff held the bowl as Gord made one last searching motion within it. "Sure thing, Chert," said the young thief. "We're just examining it."

"That's true, see?" And with that Biff held the thing up for all to observe. It appeared quite normal.

"What about those gems the dragons clutched?" Poztif asked sternly.

"Sound and whole — see for yourself," Gord replied sweetly. Biff, too, looked absolutely cherubic at that. Chert and Poztif hastened to them, snatched the dish away in a joint effort, and minutely scanned the jeweled inlays.

"Something's funny," Chert said as he peered into the huge bowl. "Didn't the green dragon have a pearl? And the gold dragon a sapphire?"

Poztif looked intently at the object for a moment, then replied, "No matter — there are pearl, amethyst, sapphire, topaz, and emerald there now. The work is intact and we must depart!"

The other three drew together at that and had a few seconds of private conversation. Then Chert spoke up. "There is another matter to handle, Your Faithfulness, ere we bid the abode of Maegus Yeo farewell forever."

"Yes, there certainly is." Biff piped up.

"A firm part of the bargain," Gord said solemnly.

Poztif looked dark and disapproving. Frown as he would, though, the three were unmoved, and he could not avoid the matter. "Well, I suppose that the former owner of this place will no longer need such worldly goods, so let us select a few items in payment for our righteous work in thwarting evil and sending its minions to their deserved fates."

There was little of real value that was portable in the ruined cellar temple. But, thinking ahead. Chert selected a medium-sized rug, Gord a smaller version, and Biff one of near mat-size, and then they hurried upstairs into the shop. There, each of the three tossed objects haphazardly into the makeshift carrying devices they had taken from the cellar. Poztif actually stopped to garner a few small objects from a rack that he thought could be "a great help to the poor." The trio ignored him, and soon they had picked over the contents to mutual satisfaction.

"Poztif?" called Gord when he had grabbed all he could carry.

There was no reply.

"Good cleric, where are you?" Chert demanded.

No answer still.

"Dancing devas!" Biff exclaimed, "Do you think he returned to the place below to finish Yeo?"

"We'd better find out quick!" Gord replied.

As they started toward the rear of the place, however, the sound of footfalls on the stairs leading up caught their attention. Down the steps came the cleric, bearing a bundle of cloth in his arms.

"Where’ve you been?" Chert demanded.

"What'd you get?" Biff asked hopefully.

Poztif gave a beatific smile and managed to raise an encumbered hand sufficiently to wave them into silence. "Peace, dear brothers. I ventured above to find some old cloak or garment in which to wrap the scant quantity I took for the poor. While in the chambers of the deceased Yeo, I happened to find a goodly quantity of used clothing to supply to poor folk for their needs, and I also found" — he smiled and produced a fat sack full of clinking things — "this small fortune hidden among Yeo's things. I thought it would be a shame to leave it to future looters."

"Attaboy, Poztif!" Biff exclaimed happily.

The others crowded around the cleric, patting him on the back and congratulating him on his fortuitous find.

"We shall divide the money in equal shares, of course, after withdrawing a tithe for my temple. Agreed?"

The others, although appreciative of Poztif’s offer to share the money, tried nonetheless to talk him out of the large amount he intended to extract for the tithe. The cleric, however, would not bend and threatened to give the entire amount to the poor if there was any more argument. At that his three companions quickly turned mute and let Poztif handle the splitting of Yeo's former stash. After a few additional matters were attended to, the four were ready to depart.

"By the by," Biff said. "I am so chagrined at my display of cowardice when the dragon thrust its claws forth that I am unable to face the shame."

The others reassured him, stating bluntly that he had performed most heroically.

"Nonetheless," the somewhat sheepish halfling said, "I am not proud. Do I have your oaths that this whole adventure will never be related to my master?" When the others readily accepted Biffs proposed vow, the little fellow's face was adorned with a smile. "Now I feel happy," he told them.

The party went quickly away, avoiding the area around the inn where they had met a few hours earlier. In a dim lane they split up, each taking his own path. Poztif, clothing enwrapping the Five Dragon Bowl, bid the errant halfling adieu and left immediately. Obviously Biffs conversion would have to wait. Gord and Biff chatted for a moment, then Chert grew too weary of dawdling and went off alone.

"I want my share of that fifth gem!" Biff said as the barbarian disappeared into the black mouth of an alley.

"Come to my place tomorrow night. I'll have that much in coin ready for you then," Gord replied in a casual tone.

Biff set his lips firmly. "In an afanc's ass!"

"You may arrive via any mode of transportation you like!" Gord responded sarcastically.

"I’ve got a good idea!" Biff said urgently. "Ill give you my two stones, and you give me that dagger of yours!"

"Up your hairy nose, shorty!"

"Okay, how about if I kick in all the rest of the ju- er, stuff I got tonight?"

"No way!" Gord said with haughty disdain. "Not even with your blade tossed in!"

"If it comes to it, I'm telling you I'm ready to fight for my due," Biff told the young man defiantly.

"Okay then, how about a contest — or, better yet, a bet?" Gord suggested.

"Like what?"

"How's this? I'll bet you your half of the emerald against my half that I can jump higher than that building across the lane!"

"With or without the load of loot in your arms?" Biff asked thoughtfully.

"Okay. . Even with all this loot weighing me down, I can jump higher than that building."

"That's a crock of cockatrice crap! I'll be happy to take the bet." the halfling said in a gloating tone. The building is forty feet tall or I’m a goblin!"

"I'm willing to try. Is it a deal?"

"Sure! Let's shake on it."

Each took the hand of the other and shook it vigorously, after which Gord hopped a few inches off the ground and landed in the same spot where he had been standing moments earlier.

"Okay, pay up! I won!" Gord said.

"Whaaaat? Are you trying to tell me, after that unimpressive little display, that you just jumped higher than that building?"

"Of course — and it wasn't hard, considering that buildings don't jump at all," Gord cried happily, laughing and hopping around like a crazy man. Then he gave his opponent a hearty clap on the back and began to walk away. "The stone's mine, Biffo-buddy. See you around."

After a while, when Biff finally managed to close his mouth, he busied himself by kicking at everything small in sight as he wended his way back to Silverthorn's place through the back streets and dark byways of Greyhawk. He'd been had by that miserable human, but he wasn't actually too bad off. What he'd taken from the shop was worth a fair sum, and the pair of huge gems in his belt's secret pouch would supply him with all the cash he could spend for some time.

In fact since Gord had been the first to discover that a large replica of a gem appeared in the bottom of the bowl when the correct stone was placed in the claw of a certain color of dragon, he had to admit that the human actually did deserve the odd, fifth gem. Biff giggled softly as he thought about the magic of the bowl. Would it work again to produce another set of fantastic stones? He doubted it, and at the same time wondered why Yeo had been apparently unaware of the treasure he possessed.

"Old Melf won't ever know about any of this," he chortled to himself as he hurried along. "Now let's see just how grateful Silverthorn can be for my services. . "