Night Arrant

Love Laughs at Locks

"My Mistress has potions and amulets for every need!"

The oily-haired Medegian merchant raised a pudgy hand glittering with jewelry to fend off the hunchback who had just made this bold claim. "I am no fool, you malformed huckster," he said with a sneer. "Keep your distance!"

As the merchant spoke, a burly Urnstman, hand on his sword hilt, stepped beside him. It was obvious that the fellow was the merchant's bodyguard.

"A paean of regret, gracious master," the shabbily clad cripple said, slowly moving sideways to escape the threat of attack,

"Not so fast!" the fat man said, gesturing to cause the hunchback to remain in place even as he directed the armed Urnstman back a bit to a less threatening position. "Tell me now. Just who is this mistress of yours who offers such merchandise?" he demanded.

Cringing, the cripple attempted a gap-toothed smile and replied, "She be the Grand Wizardess Noperda, your worship."

"Never heard of such a person," the pudgy Medegian said in a tone of disappointment. He stepped closer to the bedraggled little man, who was still edging warily away from the merchant and his scowling attendant. "Why does a worker of her repute offer to sell her wares thus? And why does she use you as an agent?"

The hunchback shrugged, a strangely disquieting gesture. 'Why, sir. is not for me to ask. Indeed, I dare not," he said hastily, and the merchant's features darkened at the reply. "The Grand Wizardess hired me when she arrived in this city several weeks ago, and I have reason to be glad for this employment."

Grasping the corded arm of his bodyguard — for emphasis, the merchant stared hard at the cripple. "Even in so large a city as this, a villain of your sort is easily found and, shall we say, reprimanded. Still, you say you have been selling this Noperda's magical wares for weeks, and yet you live and breathe. Do you truly know that the offerings are efficacious, as advertised?"

"Indeed so, noble merchant," the hunchback offered with a revealing wink. "Not a single customer has voiced a word of complaint in the time I have served-"

"Not so fast, churl! I am not to be duped by vague assertions," the cautious Medegian warned. "How many customers requesting a — shall we say, specific purchase — have you brought to your mistress?"

"Can you believe only a dozen or so, most sagacious one?" The hunchback displayed a leering grin before continuing, slowly and with emphasis. "And that despite most reasonable prices — and Grand Wizardess Noperda's guarantee of absolute satisfaction to tenfold the purchase price!"

"If you lie, deformed lout, my man Bolgar here will make straight that which is crooked!" the oily Medegian snarled as he slapped the fellow's back, while the burly Urnstman patted his sword hilt in agreement.

After asking for details of exactly what magicks were available from the so-called Grand Wizardess, the merchant directed the hunchback to lead him to the place where such marvelous wares could be purchased. Bolgar stumped along right behind his master.

In the deeper darkness of a nearby alley mouth, a shadow emerged, cautiously at first. Then, with a practiced air of nonchalance, the figure fell into step some distance behind the trio.

The silent form that flitted after the unlikely threesome was unnoticed, for the clever thief kept an even pace with his potential targets, staying far enough behind to avoid drawing attention to the fact that he was on their trail, yet following at a pace even with that set by the hunchback and his customers. To witness this young adventurer ply his profession was to observe a master at his art — and by virtue of his skill, no one was ever likely to know the whole truth about just how good he really was.

Sometimes he used a variety of disguises to avoid detection; at other times in the past the daring fellow was little more than a wraith, going where no one thought a man could go in order to burgle some precious store. At such times the victims could speak of the unknown perpetrator only as Blackcat, the name he had used for himself when he left his calling-card after one of these "impossible" jobs. Rarely did he appear as himself when plying his trade — but tonight Gord, the consummate rogue thief of Greyhawk, was doing just that.

The southern sector of the city featured an abundance of various types of stores, small shops, rambling market buildings and indoor bazaars filled with stalls and booths. This clustered warren eventually gave way to the great warehouses and factories of the River Quarter's edge where the thick walls of Greyhawk described its southern and western boundaries. After dark most of the quarter was black and silent. Roisterers there were aplenty in the dives near the Rivergate, but most persons who sought activity after sunset went up to the lawless area between the River Quarter and the Low Quarter — the long, narrow place called simply The Strip.

The hunchback led the Medegian, his bodyguard and their undiscovered guest southward through the dark byways of the upper River Quarter, scuttling toward the huge warehouses of the Depositor District. "Ageelia, if only you knew what I must do for the sake of your love," Gord murmured to himself as he continued to follow the strange group. "Why does that fat Medegian have to be seeking something as esoteric as an amulet? The whores along The Strip seemed so likely. ."he muttered as he continued to creep ahead. He was committed now to following this unseemly group, for trying for another victim at this hour was probably a fruitless pursuit, and he had no choice but to score a large hit tonight. Unless he was able to buy her freedom this very night, the beautiful Ageelia would be handed over to her new owner come dawn.

As he passed over one of the bridges spanning Newduct, the east-west canal of the newer portion of Greyhawk, Gord thought back to when he had first seen the incredibly lovely dancer. …

The Foreign Quarter of the sprawling city was a favorite haunt of Gord's, for the young thief found its mixture of strange cultures and cosmopolitan attitudes far more interesting than even the elite gathering places of the fashionable High and Garden Quarters. He seldom worked in the Foreign Quarter, preferring it as his rest and recuperation spot. It was an evening just a week ago when he had sauntered into the Lotus House, just off the Street of Songs. The place was frequented by Bakluni and other westerners, and Gord went there often for the exotic foods and strange music of those distant lands represented by the clientele.

"Your pleasure, gracious master?" a robed servitor had inquired as Gord entered the central salon through the swaying curtain of ralnbow-hued beads.

That girl — who is she?" Gord demanded, not taking his eyes from the dancer whose midnight tresses trailed all the way down to her tiny waist.

The pockmarked Tusmite leered and winked. "The eye of the gracious master is as quick and sharp as a hawk's! That is Ageelia, the most beautiful dancer ever to come from Ket." He paused to spit before adding, "May the demons of the Abyss void their bowels and bladders on that place!"

"Never mind your politics, jackal! Tell me more, about this vision. You say her name is Ageelia?"

"True, master, Ageelia she is, but not even so noble a person as yourself may know more of that fair houri."

At that, the irate thief grasped the startled servant by his long tunic and, using as much leverage strength, lifted the bulky fellow off the ground with a seemingly effortless motion of his right arm. A nearby customer gasped at the sight of the hefty Tusmite being held aloft by the much shorter, dark haired man. "You refuse to introduce me to her?" Gord snarled.

The Tusmite's visage contorted and became pale with fear. It took some time for him to finally manage to stammer. "No, no, magnificence. I do not refuse anything the great master commands, but- " Gord set the stupid lout down hard, making his heels rap loudly on the stone flags of the floor of the Lotus House and causing his teeth to clack together from the force of the impact. "Tell me then, dog, what did you mean?"

"That one is the bound slave of Malik Xestrazy, a relative of the Marcher Lord of Ket, and a most wealthy trader in … precious items."

"So? Get to your point, or I shall feed you this one!" the impatient thief demanded, tapping the hilt of his dagger.

"The fame of Ageelia's marvelous beauty and dancing skill has stretched all the way to the Great Kingdom, master. Malik brags everywhere that soon the Overking himself will be sending an escort for Ageelia. He claims that they will bring him, a thousand orbs and take back the flower of Ket to concubinage to the Malachite Throne," the frightened man finished weakly.

Patrons were beginning to stare at the irritated young thief and the quavering servitor, so Gord abruptly changed his tack. He pressed a silver noble into the fat, sweaty palm of the Tusmite and said, "My sincere pardon, brother, for such rude and rough handling. The creature carried my senses away as has never before happened to me!"

It is uncertain whether the apology was believed, or if the coin was of sufficient worth to redress any insult, but whatever the reason, the pock-faced man nodded and even smiled as he replied to Gord, "This sort of thing has happened rather frequently. Many have sought to know that one, but always Malik Xestrazy sends them away like whipped curs. Ah, but no wonder. Not even the lords of this great city have a thousand gold orbs to spend on a female!"

Gord doubted that. He knew he'd gladly have laid down a sackful of platinum plates for one like her. "I would speak with this Malik," he said. "Perhaps there is value in such conversation for both of us. I shall take that table there. Bring your best wine — and Xestrazy — immediately, and the coin you hold will have five brothers with it."

Without a word the Tusmite hurried off. Unfortunately, Ageelia's dance ended just then, too, so Gord sat staring at the vacant space she left until the cloying odor of poppy-scented kif brought him to his senses. A tall, thin, flamboyantly dressed man was followed to Gord's table by the fawning Tusmite. The leader of the duo was obviously Malik Xestrazy, and he reeked of the perfumed and fortified drug.

"Thank you for joining me," Gord said as he rose and gestured to a soft cushion next to him.

"I am impressed that you recognize the honor I am bestowing — so unlike most of your kind." the effeminate Kettite drawled as he allowed the servitor to ease him down upon the proffered pillow. "Where is that Keolsh amber wine you spoke of. Ovzool?" he demanded of the Tusmite.

Crystal goblets filled to the brim with the desired wine were immediately delivered to Gord's table. Gord took a long, satisfying sip of the drink and then voiced his appreciation. "Ah, this is truly one of the most superior nectars I’ve ever experienced. My thanks for introducing me to it!"

"Your hearty approval is thanks enough," Xestrazy said softly. He raised his own goblet to his mouth and took a sip before continuing to speak. "Now, suppose you tell me why you requested this meeting. …"

Gord was so lost in reverie at this point that he almost gave himself away when the trio ahead of him abruptly slowed up. For a few seconds he failed to do the same, which dangerously closed the gap between thief and prey.

"Please!" Gord heard the hunchback say. "I am not able to keep up with the two of you at the speed we were going." the deformed man pleaded.

"Are you trying to stall us, cripple? If you have something up that ragged sleeve of yours, we can stop right here and now." the Medegian said as he grabbed the poor man by the throat.

"No, I swear to you! I'm just tired. Please, my intentions are nothing but honorable!"

"Hmmph! They'd better be, you lame lackey, or you won't need to worry about trying to keep up with anyone after today!" The Medegian let go of the poor fellow's neck and gave him a rough shove forward.

Gord sighed in relief when the three walkers resumed their former pace without so much as a glance back in his direction. His thoughts returned to his recent meeting with Malik Xestrazy. This time, however, he concentrated more on the present while rehashing the recent past in his mind. .

The amused thief chuckled when he recalled how the Marcher Lord's distant cousin had snapped to avaricious attention when Gord made some thinly veiled references to royal blood ties as he displayed the gold and platinum coins he carried. Whether or not the Malik believed that Gord was the scion of an unnamed royal family, the possibility of receiving a king's ransom in exchange for Ageelia had been sufficient to cause him to summon the girl.

One look into the emerald pools of Ageella's eyes had sealed Gord's fate. And to his delight, the beautiful dancer seemed to return this instant fascination. For the next several days, Gord frequented the Lotus House and spent time socializing with Malik Xestrazy, who claimed he might be willing to consider releasing the dancer for "a just sum." The problem was, Xestrazy's idea of a fair price was equivalent to a sum that the most prosperous men in the city of Greyhawk would have trouble parting with!

While Gord spent time negotiating with Xestrazy, the dancer continued to perform for Gord and the other patrons of the Lotus House. Occasionally, although far too seldom for Gord's satisfaction, Ageelia was allowed to join her prospective savior and her present master at what had come to be Gord's personal table at the establishment. Thus had flown the time, as well as practically all of Gord's considerable store of treasure. Thus too, after he finally reached an agreement with Xestrazy, had come this very night when Gord was bent on gaining sufficient gold to free his love from her forced enslavement.

His resolve to purchase her freedom had grown even stronger since Gord first saw Ageelia, because he had stolen a few minutes alone with her during the previous all-too-brief week. Much to Gord's surprise, Ageelia had managed to slip away from Xestrazy's sight a few times. Although how she had done so was a mystery to him, it was a mystery he had not cared to ponder. He was too infatuated to care how his love managed to get away from her master, only that she did.

They met at a nearby apartment, one of the several small dwellings Gord had access to in various sectors of Greyhawk. During those brief, blessed moments they conversed between stolen kisses. She told him of her terrible humiliation and the misery of being a slave and dancing girl. She said she yearned to be free to determine her own destiny — but soon, she said with downcast eyes, she would be bound forever to the mad Overking, Gord nearly wept at this thought, vowing silently to pay the Malik a higher price than even the King of Aerdy would, and thus forever loose her from bondage and allow her to be at liberty in all her actions.

"You see, dear Gord," the lovely girl said sadly, "I had to consent to this because of my father and family. Had I not, Xestrazy would have imprisoned my father and brothers for what they owed to him. What then of my poor mother and little sisters?" And at that, she finally broke into tears. Even a stone would have been moved to pity — and Gord's heart was no stone.

"I am, er, temporarily short of funds," he told her hesitantly, feeling it was a lame excuse, "but I expect a large amount of cash soon!" At that Ageelia brightened, and when they were through kissing, Gord offered her a handful of coins to tide her over until he could purchase her freedom.

"No, sweet love," Ageelia said, returning the gold and electrum pieces to him. "I have no wants that money can buy — save my own destiny, and that cannot be bought so cheaply!"

His heart burning with resolve, Gord had vowed to make things right. Thus, although Gord hated the thought of being separated for more than a few moments from the sight of the gorgeous young Kettite, he had set out this very night to find a source of wealth sufficient to purchase the freedom of a dancing girl whose value was greater than one thousand gold pieces!

Such a sum could be found in certain clerical repositories, the city treasury, and perhaps in the strongrooms of a handful of the wealthiest men in Greyhawk. Why then did he elect to follow a greasy merchant from far-off Medegia? Simple. Gord had discovered that the seeming merchant was actually the most trusted of the henchmen of Medegia's leader. Exalted Holiness Arachna.

When he had earlier passed near the Hillgate, the entry place to the Foreign Quarter, Gord had been desperately seeking some means of getting so vast a sum as to exceed a thousand gold orbs. Merchants entering Greyhawk with such worth were as scarce as frog fur, but it was at least a hope, albeit faint. The bejeweled Medeglan, who entered the city followed by a train of retainers and as many guards, had immediately drawn the young man's attention. Perhaps. .

Gord had watched as the men-at-arms at the entry gate read the Medegian's papers and bowed. One, evidently a member of the Thieves Guild, passed information by secret signs to a nondescript chap loitering not far from Gord's own place of observation. The young eavesdropper easily read the message: "Emissary of Overking." the fellow had signaled. "Not a safe mark — protected by Medegia, too." It had taken little additional effort to discover just who the so-called merchant was, and picking up his trail had been easier still.

This false merchant was the emissary of Arachna of Medegia — coincidentally, the very agent who was to purchase Ageelia and carry her off to an ineffable fete at the hands of the insane emperor of the Great Kingdom. Soon the Medegian would buy the girl — unless Gord could intervene. It was Gord's good luck that this fellow, who called himself by the title of Fastaal Trevan, had apparently placed some personal whim above his duty to his lord and master.

Exalted Holiness Arachna. Even if Gord was unable to steal the necessary amount needed to purchase Ageelia's freedom, he could at least make certain that the Fastaal failed to show up with the sum sufficient to buy Ageelia for his master. Then, in a few days' time, the young thief was sure that he could raise that sort of money. After all, who in the whole vast city of Greyhawk could match his skills?

A glimmer of light shone ahead.

"Careful, master." The voice of the hunchback floated back to where Gord trailed after the three. "See the steps here? just beyond is the domicile of my mistress, the Grand Wizardess."

"High time, too, lout!" the grating voice of the Medegian snarled. "I have other business 'besides this, you know!"

The three dark shapes went up the steps and soon disappeared through the black opening of a tall, square building that might once have been an armory or some similar place for keeping valuable items. Gord noted that the tower had no doors except the one where they had entered, and the only windows visible were at least forty feet above the surrounding street. He went into action swiftly and decisively.

The nearest building was easily scaled by so practiced a climber as he. Even in the dim light of the single lantern near the tower. Gord could see that the fortresslike structure was smooth-faced. After ascending to the roof of the adjoining building, the young thief quickly uncoiled a rope from his waist and twirled it around his head. The line spun out and its small grapnel caught fast in a dark opening of the tower. All of this took no more time than it would take a normal person to walk up the stairs at a casual pace. The more difficult part came now. Gord could go across on the line hand over hand, but time pressed. So instead, he twisted the cord expertly to make it fast on a projection and stepped out onto the thin, taut rope almost as if it were a broad walkway.

Driven onward by a growing sense of urgency, he slid one foot along, followed by the other, — then began to walk almost normally. Hie cord slanted upward, but Gord had little difficulty as he stepped from the line onto the narrow ledge of the lightless window. Footsteps and voices approached the area. Gord crouched quickly and grasped the ledge, lowering himself until he was hanging by his fingertips, just in time to get out of the range of a spreading light that shone through the window bordering the landing.

"So many steps." puffed the voice of the Medegian noble posing as a merchant. "If there are many more, I will go no further, oaf!"

"Nay, nay, honored master," the voice of the bent servant called out within a few feet of Gord's ear. "There are but two flights more in the tower. We go up only one more, but rest here for a moment and catch your breath while I go on and tell my mistress you have come."

"Stand still!" This came from a third voice, that of Bolgar the guard. "We will proceed together only when Lord Hewstein tells you he is ready."

So the Highness of Trevan. Fastaal, surnamed Vultrano, called Humbolth, second of that name in his lineage, was calling himself Lord Hewstein. It seemed to help Gord to recall this information, thus turning his attention away from the throbbing in his hands and arms. Despite all his training and his fine physical condition, the effort required to hang this way was considerable. After taking another minute or so to get his breath back, the Medegian commanded the hunchback to continue leading the group up the stairway. Gord immediately raised himself far enough to see the three disappear upward and then, with equal amounts of speed and stealth, pulled his body up to and through the window. He crept slowly up the stairs until he reached the next floor.

Gord cautiously peeked around the corner, seeing a small room with hangings on every wall, a thickly carpeted floor, and a scattering of rich-Jook-ing chairs and divans. A single opening, an iron-bound door on the far wall, showed between the tapestries. The three other figures were standing together roughly in the center of this room.

"This is the antechamber where we must prepare for meeting the Grand Wizardess," the hunchback said. Then he asked the two visitors to be seated and added, "You, noble merchant, must leave all metal items behind when you pass through that door and upward to view and bargain for the wares offered by the lady."

"Never!" exclaimed the Medeglan. "I'll not venture into some unknown place unarmed!"

"The dweomer surrounding the repository of the items in the possession of the Wizardess demands that no metal be present," the bent-backed agent wheedled. "But consider this, gentle lord. If you must relinquish your weapons, so too must you leave safe behind all your precious metals. Jewels can optionally be left too, and all will be guarded by your trusted manservant. I am obliged to remain here, too, so if anything goes amiss — a needless fear — what problem for such a man as he to slice me to ribbons and come to your side in a trice?"

"And if I agree to this nonsense, how am I to pay for the items I have selected? My gold will be here!" The pudgy Medegian accented his displeasure with a contemptuous sweep of his right hand.

"Your man guards your wealth, sir, and the door at ground level guards the exit from the tower, for only I know the secret place to press and thereby open it. Thus, both guard and gold will certainly be here when you return. The price of the items you desire — negligible, I am certain, because of my mistress's foolish generosity — you will simply leave here on this stand. Then you and your man will return the way we came, I will open the exit door for you, and everyone will be happy," the crooked fellow concluded with his awful grin.

The so-called merchant hesitated, then consented. "All right. Bolgar, I charge you with alertness and caution in watching this lout! if I cry out for help, lift his ugly head from his deformed body and come to me at once!"

Bolgar drew a well-used broadsword. "I hear, my lord, and will obey with pleasure," he replied with a slight bow and a meaningful glance thereafter at the hunchback.

The stooped servant seemed oblivious to the threat as he shuffled over to the door on the far wall. "Leave your metal, wise merchant, and proceed up the stairs," he instructed as he swung open the metal-clad portal.

With everyone's attention elsewhere, Gord was able to slip behind a row of tapestries on the wall opposite the door and move to a position that enabled him to view the situation from a better perspective. He saw that one of the tapestries hid another door, evidently an egress to the rest of the level they were on. By peeking through a gap between the hangings, Gord was provided with an excellent view of what was happening.

"There," said the Medegian with finality as he topped off a small mound of jewelry and a fat purse with a gem-encrusted dagger. "I have divested myself of all my metal, as required. Now I go up to greet your mistress and see if these offerings of hers are as claimed. Woe to a certain scoundrel if they are not!" So saying, the fat fellow turned with a haughty sniff and began to mount the well-lighted steps leading to the tower's upper floor.

Gord's heart sank as he viewed the stuff the Medegian had left behind. The purse could hold no more than fifty or sixty coins. The gems and gold of the jewelry would fetch perhaps as many gold pieces as the purse could hold. Scarcely more than a hundred orbs in total, even if the purse was completely filled with nothing but the golden coins he longed for. The sum was indeed a handsome haul for any thief — except this one, who needed ten times that amount to gain his heart's desire!

Take your eyes off my master's belongings!" Bolgar ordered.

"Of course — no offense." the crook-backed servant said with a chuckling leer. "I will turn my back to it, see?" With that, he plopped into a chair facing away from Bolgar, the stand holding the valuables, and the stairway.

'"Deformed buffoon!" Bolgar muttered as he, also sat, averting his eyes from the twisted back and its jutting hump. Just then there was a sound from above, and the guardsman sprang up and rushed for the stairs. "Is all well?" he shouted upward.

"Quiet, fool!" came a muffled reply. "The sound was naught but my gasp of amazement at the wondrous things this Grand Wizardess offers for sale — truly amazing!"

A puzzled frown came over Bolgar's face briefly, but then the rather dull-witted guard returned to his seat. Gord continued to be skeptical, however. The young thief was an expert at observing and imitating others' voices and mannerisms, and the voice he had just heard didn’t sound quite right. In fact, the initial sound had been more like a choked-off cry of fright than a gasp of pleasurable astonishment Gord drew his shortsword and dagger, expecting to learn the truth soon enough. A clear, female voice said something not quite intelligible from the chamber above. Then the Medegian's voice replied. "This is a fair price indeed, good lady wizard! And what of…"

Footsteps sounded as the voice trailed off. Someone, presumably the Medegian, was certainly moving about, viewing the wealth of magical things to be found above. There was a dragging sound, followed by more muffled conversation. Then all was quiet for a full minute, and Bolgar became uneasy. "What's going on up there?" he said to the hunchback.

The Grand Wizardess is probably seeing that the items your lord selected are properly wrapped," the cripple replied without turning.

This didn't seem to relieve Bolgar's sense of unease. "Lord Hewstein, is all well?" the guardsman cried loudly, approaching the stairway once again.

"Silence! I will be down in just a moment, and you will need all your strength to carry the many burdens I will bring with me. Stand ready at the stairs."

Bolgar stationed himself near the doorway, his back to Gord's vantage point, and Gord peered intently at the opening. A few seconds later, booted legs and the hem of a robe appeared. It seemed it was the Medegian after all, coming carefully down the stairs, one cautious step at a time. Soon the reason for the slow progress was apparent. The merchant's upper torso and face were obscured by arm-clasped bundles.

What to do? Gord considered his choices in a split-second. He could rush forth and deal with the immediate opposition. Bolgar and all, easily. It would be simple to take the Medeglan's valuables and the magical items too. dash down the stairs, find the means to open the door, and escape. The trouble with that was twofold: First, he'd have only a small part of the sum he needed, and another servant of the Overking would simply step forward and pay over the money to purchase Ageelia. Second, the wizardess would be angry at this intrusion and might be able to do something nasty before Gord could find the secret catch on the lower door.

Before he could assess his next option, an attempt at looting the wizardess herself, the bundles being carted down the stairs tumbled to the floor. Bolgar made one move forward as the items began hitting the floor, then froze in his tracks and turned gray.

Gord blinked and shook his head: no, he wasn't seeing things. Bolgar stood stock still before his eyes — a solid, unmoving shape of gray stone, fortunately positioned between Gord's vantage point and the form of the Medegian. Just as the boot-clad feet moved to step around the gray-hued form, Gord turned his eyes away from the sight — not wishing to look upon that which could turn a man to stone. But he need not have worried, because the figure had drawn up a hood that obscured its — her? — true appearance.

"I have veiled myself, Pledd. Turn around and open your eyes," a throaty, female voice spoke in a sensual contralto. Hearing this. Gord also looked toward the figure who spoke, but kept himself concealed. The female removed a vial from a pocket in her robe and handed it to the hunchback. "Drink this strength potion, then remove the remains to my chamber now," she said. There was a faint chorus of hissing accompanying the order.

"Yes, mistress." came the hunchback's giggled reply. He quickly drank the liquid and then approached the petrified form.

Without a sound, Gord crept to a place near the stairs leading below, crouched, and peered cautiously under the hem of the tapestry. The crook-back's mistress, the so-called wizardess, was surety nothing other than a medusa. The position of her feet indicated she was directing her gaze elsewhere, and the young thief dared to raise the hem of the hanging to get a full view of the place. He was still in no immediate danger, for her hood was set in place. Pledd casually picked up the stone form of Bolgar and tossed his former tormentor over a deformed shoulder. "Hasten, you fool!" hissed the false wizardess. "That potion is quick to wear off, and you'll find yourself crushed by your burden if you're not quick about it." The cripple picked up his pace and bounded lightly toward the stairs.

"While you are carting that above, I will divide the spoils," the medusa said seductively. Your share will be left on the stand, as usual."

The hunchback indicated his cheerful appreciation as he disappeared up the stairs. He was indeed as strong as ten healthy men! His amused mistress continued watching, but in a moment Gord knew she would turn to examine and divide the valuables that were formerly the property of the Fastaal Trevan, late henchman of the Exalted Holiness of Medegia. It was now or never; without further hesitation, the young thief acted.

Moving with animal reflexes, Gord sprang to his feet and used his enchanted dagger to slash through the arras at head-height. The sound alerted the medusa to his presence, causing her to turn around. But as she threw back the hood that obscured her deadly gaze, Gord grasped a piece of wall hanging and used it as a shield. When the medusa attempted to move sideways and Hank her advancing adversary, the young thief hurled the cloth across the intervening space. The material landed where he had aimed it. settling over the medusa and covering her from crown to waist. The creature shrieked horribly and tore at the stuff that covered her, but Gord was far too quick. He leaped forward, and his sword and dagger flashed — once, twice, thrice. Then the covering was off, red-stained now.

The monster's snaky pate was hissing and writhing in anger and pain, with red eyes nearly bulging from her snarling visage as she sought to fix her tormentor with her petrifying stare.

But the devious thief was already elsewhere. A leap, a tumbling roll, and a catlike recovery brought him to where the room's chandelier was fastened by a chain to its central position overhead. With a mighty hack, the long, thick-bladed dagger severed the bronze links. The chandelier plummeted down, and the pain-maddened medusa had all she could do to avoid its fall. The chamber was now dark, save for the light spilling down the stairs from the room above, and Gord noted that even that illumination was virtually shut off by the blocky form of Pledd shambling down to assist his mistress. No matter; Gord needed no light, for his sword enabled him to see well enough in absolute blackness. Not knowing this, the medusa screamed her awful rage again and leaped to grapple with her opponent. She thought to grasp Gord and hold him fast while the asplike growths that were her hair sent their venom surging into the slender human form, which would then blacken and die in agony.

"Yargh!" Gord exclaimed in horror as he perceived the medusa's intent. While holding forth the dagger in his left hand to fend off her grasping lunge, the young adventurer swung his sword instinctively in an arc from right to left. Its blade sheared off the mass of thumb-thick, writhing ex-crescencies as a scythe cuts ripe grain. The combination of parry and thrust was sufficient to keep the monster off him and bring an end to the contest. With a final, gut-wrenching screech, the medusa fell to the floor, stone dead.

"What's happened?" Pledd asked loudly as he reached the bottom of the stairs and squinted into the near-darkness. He was standing in the doorway, his twisted form silhouetted by the descending light Before coming back from the chamber above, he had acquired a double-headed flail. He swung the spiked heads of the weapon back and forth blindly before him as he peered around, seeking to learn where his mistress was. A few seconds later, Gord answered the question in a gruff and terrible-sounding voice.

"She is dead, Pledd — as dead as you will soon be, unless you toss aside that little flail and surrender nowl"

The hunchback spent only a second absorbing that bit of information. Unable to see the creature who had killed his mistress, able only to guess what terrible powers it might have. Pledd simply let go of the flail. As it clattered to the floor, he spoke. "Spare my life, demon or devil, whichever you might be. I will gladly show you where all the treasures she took are stored!" The voice of the fellow wavered and cracked. He was truly frightened by the unknown peril.

Gord spoke again from the darkness. "Make no light, move slowly and directly. Go to the place the valuables are. Reveal them fully, and step back. If you fail to obey a single one of those commands, I will rend you limb from limb. . slowly!"

"Y-y-yes, m-m-master," the hunchback stammered as he turned to go back up the flight of steps. Then he halted and said in a pleading voice. "Oh, master, what am I to do? I will make no light myself, but the place above is already illuminated by the foul medusa's command."

"Go upward, worm," Gord said from another place in the room. Pledd swiveled his head in surprise at the new location of the voice, but Gord knew he could see nothing still. "I will follow you, although you will not see me. Extinguish the light, go to the treasure, and reveal it Go now!"

The rest was simple. Pledd was absolutely cooperative, tried no tricks, and even volunteered information on the contents of the brass chest that held the collected loot of the dead medusa. Gord shuddered at the thought of those who had died in order to gain the wealth — but that did not stop him from scooping it all into a leather sack.

"Crook-back, this is more than I expected. Because you did not resist, I grant you your life, as well as whatever share of this treasure you have already received from your foul mistress." Pledd began to profusely thank his unseen adversary, but Gord cut him short. "Should you remain in Greyhawk after tonight, I will not spare your miserable life again. If the setting of the sun on the morrow sees you within the city, I will come for your soul itself!"

Pledd was looking around the dark room, babbling assurances of his immediate departure from the city, as the young thief stole downstairs. It took but a couple of minutes for Gord to find the hidden catch, unlock and open the door, and exit the tower. Gord's emotions ran the gamut as he headed down the street and back toward the Lotus House. He smiled to himself as he envisioned the hunchback still gibbering his gratitude in the upmost story of the tower, not aware that he was now alone. Then he shivered with revulsion at the thought of the medusa and the horrible fate he had just escaped. A moment later he was happy again, for his haul was indeed all he had hoped for.

He lost no time getting back to the Lotus House and giving Ageella the good news. "Slip away as soon as you can," Gord whispered into her ear as she left the dance floor and took a seat at his table.

Ageelia frowned slightly and said, "The risk is great, and tomorrow I am to be sold, so I doubt I can get free for a tryst, Gord."

It was just after midnight. Gord knew Ageella would perform no more tonight, although the establishment would entertain customers for several hours yet. He could contain himself no longer. "This is no assignation, my love!" he beamed. "I want you to come and see what I have."

"I have seen it before," she said.

"Stop this coy jesting, lady of my dreams." Gord said with a pleading tone and a hurt look. "I am trying to tell you I have more than the price the Overking's agents have brought. I will purchase your freedom — tonight!"

"More than a thousand gold orbs?" Ageelia's look displayed pure disbelief.

Gord took her hand and placed a brooch in her little palm. Ageella gasped, for the pin was set with a dazzling array of diamonds and a huge emerald as clear and green as the girl's eyes.

"This is a small gift," he said with obvious pride.

"But it is worth at least fifty or a hundred orbs itself!" Ageelia managed to utter. "You have this, and enough to pay for my freedom besides?"

"Yes — a thousand times yes," Gord replied fervently, "and I will purchase your freedom so that you may freely give me your love."

"Oh, Gord, I do love you! I will be with you in an hour."

"Promise!" he commanded.

Ageelia was rising, but she trailed her hand across the young thiefs brow, caressing his ear, his hair. "I wouldn't miss being there for the world, love. I promise," she said softly. Then she slipped through the curtained doorway at the rear of the room.

During the second hour of the day, that dull and dark time when most folk slept. Ageelia and Gord laughed and loved and let precious gems and glittering coins trickle through their fingers. Finally they made neat stacks of platinum plates and gold orbs, placing each pile carefully inside a heavy iron box that was usually concealed within the apartment's water closet. Until Gord had returned from slaying the medusa, the box had held only a handful of coins of small value. Now, in addition to the hundred and a half great coins, it contained a varicolored array of loose gems and sufficient jewelry to finance a war.

"There is twice a thousand gold orbs here, Gord!" Ageelia exclaimed. "You are wonderful!"

Gord kissed her full, red mouth passionately, then held her at arm's length and laughed. "You are a treasure worth more than all the gold and gems in the world, Ageelia."

"How much is really here, my love?"

"The worth of all this, reduced to coin, will be slightly more than one and one-quarter thousand gold orbs — it depends on the mood of my fence, Basil, and his available cash, too. The Malik is taking a chance to renege on his bargain with the Overking, so I thought I would offer him some incentive — virtually all of this, say one and one-quarter thousand gold, for your liberty." At this. Ageelia shook her head in wonder, her raven tresses glimmering in the golden lamplight.

Not sure what her gesture indicated, Gord hastened to explain. "Even if it takes the whole of this stuff, dearest one, you have the brooch, and I will hold onto a few coins to see us through. I will not be so bold with the practice of my. . arts. . when we are together, but with care we will be able to live comfortably-"

Ageelia cut him off with a kiss and an embrace. Laughing happily, she told him, "Quiet now. Gord. You are already beginning to sound like a husband!" She turned her back to him briefly, poured wine from an alabaster ewer, then turned back again and handed one of the goblets to the young thief while keeping one for herself. "Now, let us drink to our future. Soon enough it will be daylight. Then you must take this all to Xestrazy. . and what will we do if he refuses?"

At that, Gord laughed. "He won't pass up so fat a sum as I will bring to him. Never!" So stating, the happy swain quaffed his wine and carelessly tossed the goblet aside. "Now let's enjoy the last hours of darkness in celebration of what is to come."

Ageelia smiled a seductive, cryptic smile, drank her wine to the dregs, and refilled both vessels. "Let it be so!"

Her ready affirmation was the last thing Gord remembered of that evening of supposed love. ..

Somehow he managed to swim through the oily water. It was black as pitch and thick as molasses, but he could breathe and see. Far above was a redness, and he knew this was the burning floor of hell. Why must he leave the comfort of this liquid, its cool and weightless peace, to tread the cruel, iron floor above that glowed with molten heat? Even as that thought went sluggishly through his mind, soft tentacles wrapped themselves around his body. He felt powerless to resist, and slowly, slowly, Gord began to sink into the depths from which he had just come…

No! Searing, white flashes shot through his brain. New strength flowed along his nerves, and he began to kick his feet and strain his arms. The enwrapping members came free as if they were tendrils of smoke. With powerful, lunging motions Gord- shot through the cloying fog that sought to smother and drown him. With a shout, his whole torso broke through the surface. Gord gasped for air. Now, if he must, he would face the fiends of hell.

In the next couple of seconds his vision came into focus. He was not in the netherworld after all — he was sitting up in his bed, the red rays of the rising sun reflecting so strongly off the open lid of the iron strongbox that they nearly blinded him. His head ached and throbbed so much he thought he would vomit from the pain. Each of his arms seemed encased in lead, each leg as heavy as a tree trunk. His brain reeled and begged him to close his eyes and sleep once more. Mustering every physical and mental resource he could command, Gord managed to roll out of bed, pull open a secret drawer, and quaff the contents of a small vial his numb fingers found therein.

Somehow his drugged mind had recalled and sought out the stuff he now guzzled. This elixir, this magical potion he drained, had cost him dearly, but it was proving to be worth every bit of the price. It was for those who had need of countering the effects of privation — lack of food, drink, even sleep. The stuff also countered infection and poison. Alcohol being a poison, and most drugs likewise, Gord tried to keep some of the elixir on hand at all times to enable him to carouse and then later nullify the effects of the dissipation in order to ply his trade.

And it was with that purpose in mind that Gord had downed a small amount of the substance the previous evening, just before the treasure-counting, wanting to remain awake all night in order to be able to drink in Ageella's beauty and consume the wine he had purchased for their celebration without being forced to waste this precious time in slumber. Now he was using the liquid for another purpose altogether — to offset the devilish drug he had ingested through no fault of his own.

"Perhaps an hour's head start, but no more than two," he muttered to himself as he noted the time of day and examined his room. Ageelia had certainly drugged his wine, picked the lock of the chest, and left with its contents. As he turned over in his mind the events of his last encounter with Ageelia, Gord cursed himself as he realized that he had let slip one vital piece of information — the name of the one who could turn the gems and trinkets into ready coin. Then he regained his composure and patted his shortsword and dagger fondly, glad that these, at least, had not attracted the treacherous bitch's avaricious attention. He stalked out of the apartment, his purposeful stride eating up distance at a brisk rate. Gord was heading for a small shop but a stone's throw from the Hillgate. There, one could exchange stolen goods of high value for gold coins of almost any nation.

"Gord, my friend." the sleazy proprietor of the establishment said with forced cheerfulness after he had been roused. "Are you out late or up early?"

"Save the dung for fertilizing your flower garden, ratface!" Gord snarled in reply. With a move too quick for the nervous little man to follow, Gord grabbed him by his hair and pressed his dagger's edge to the fence's throat. "How long ago was she here? And how much did you give her?"

"Who are you talking about? I don’t know- "

A little blood trickled from a small cut on the man's neck. "One more tying word, Basil, and you won't need to worry about that little catamite you keep housed in the Gardens! You know I mean the girl Ageelia — the long-haired dancer from the Lotus House. She must have come with a man calling himself Malik Xestrazy."

Basil was nearly breaking his neck trying to keep his throat away from the magically sharp blade of the dagger. He tried to smile and beg at the same time. "Oh, yes, that girl. I didn't understand at first. Please, Gord." he whimpered, "for the sake of our long and mutually profitable business together, let loose, and I'll gladly tell you anything you wish to know."

"You'll tell me all, now, held fast with the edge at your jugular, or else I'll spill your life all over this miserable shop," Gord said. Basil knew he meant it, so the man began chattering.

"Not an hour ago the woman of whom you speak — you say her name's Ageelia? Well, this Ageelia and her lov- her associate, Xestrazy, were here. They laid out a fortune in stones and jewelry, claiming to need coin in trade for their family heirlooms. I didn't question the validity of the claim, as I should think you'd understand, for who cares what claims are made as to where such stuff comes from?" When Gord refused to react to this observation of one thief to another, the little man averted his eyes from the other's stony lace and hurriedly went on.

"It was a fine bunch of goods, and I finally agreed to give them a thou' for the lot. Lucky for them I had most of it in plates. The Bakluni chap loaded it all into a case he had brought with him, and the two of them left in a hurry, him near staggering under the weight of the money."

"Did either say where they were headed?" Basil hesitated for only a second — time enough for the blade to send a burning signal to the nerves of his stretched-taut throat as the enchanted steel drew the red line longer. His face twitching, Basil babbled out. "A barge — she mentioned a waiting barge! He shut her up immediately, but I heard her say it!"

Gord was satisfied that he had heard the truth. "I will let you live, you miserable little rat," he hissed, "but remember I know you and your ways. If you seek revenge for this little incident, I'll come back and finish what I’ve begun."

Holding his blouse shut to cover the place where the dagger had cut him, Basil watched the young thief depart. Hate contorted his ratty visage, but stark fear gleamed in his eyes. He would never forgive Gord, but Basil would never dare to do anything about this incident, either. He knew Gord's words were no idle threat.

As he ran toward the waterfront, Gord thought about his next move. There were at least a dozen places along the docks to board a barge. Greyhawk sprawled along the bank of the broad Selletan River, and the east wall of the city was bounded by the Gray Run, itself a navigable body of water for several miles above Greyhawk. All sorts of rivercraft moored in these waters. But exactly where would the pair of scoundrels be going to gain their means of escape?

Time would probably not be all that important to them, for the drug should have kept Gord in a coma for hours and hours. Yet one thing seemed most likely. The weight of the coins Xestrazy carried would not allow a long walk, and passage on horseback or by litter through the city in the early morning would possibly attract unwanted attention. Basil's place was only a little way from Hillgate, where several barges loaded and unloaded cargo at the Bastion isle. Gord gave the guards at Hillgate a jaunty wave as he walked through the great portal, heading down to where boats and barges docked as the Gray Run divided to surround the Bastion.

Gord didn't worry about the eastern branch of the waterway. The water there was swift and broken by rapids and several little falls. Sawyers loved it, but no riverboats traveled there. The nearer channel, though, had been dammed off in three places to make the stream placid. Gates were placed in such a way as to allow entry by vessels, the water being raised or lowered by means of sluice gates. Thus a barge, for instance, could proceed past the Bastion if desired, or it could stop to unload its cargo either at Hillgate, the island Bastion, or up farther north at Mldgate.

"Those vultures will not want to travel upstream." Gord muttered to himself, "so their vessel will surely be moored in the lower lock just here by Bow Bridge."

Rather than going up the arched span. Gord went left to where a set of worn, stone steps allowed passage to the quay some twenty feet below. Eight or ten craft of one sort or another were lined up here, held fast by thick lines, awaiting some reason to float on their way again. The lines of one were just being cast off, and Gord, uncertain as to which barge to begin searching, made a quick decision not to let this departing one out of his sight until he was certain it did not contain his false lover and her partner.

Gord ran and leaped, clearing ten or twelve feet of water between the quay and the drifting barge. He landed lightly on the foredeck and drew his sword as his feet touched down. This caused a great stir in the vessel, and two cloaked figures seated in the waist of the barge turned in surprise at the sight. Gord quickly saw that he would need to search no farther.

"Fancy meeting you here!" he shouted at a horrified Ageelia and her equally startled companion.

"What? What are you doing here?" Xestrazy sputtered. The man was livid as he turned for a moment to eye Ageelia suspiciously.

"Watch out, you fool!" the girl screamed at him. "Can't you see he has his sword drawn?"

Gord laughed louder at this. "My dear friends, why the hysterics?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I merely thought to take a bracing little voyage to clear my unusually muddled brain this morn — something I drank, perhaps. How charming to encounter you here, too!"

Xestrazy drew a long, slender sword from beneath his cloak. Its curious shape told Gord it was some form of yataghan, with a needle point and wickedly sharp inner-edged cutting surface. The dark-faced Malik made no reply to Gord's taunting, nor did he look again at Ageelia. With economy of motion and no hint of fear. Xestrazy sprang up out of the low portion of the barge to confront the challenge. "You should have stayed sleeping, you stupid boy. Now I shall have to slay you."

As he spoke the man lunged, his foot stamping down to add force to his thrust. Gord managed to jump back, barely avoiding being skewered as the yataghan shot forth a foot farther than Gord thought possible. "You are a long-armed ape, old man!" he said with a laugh he didn't feel. "But you are so slow and predictable, too. Try this!"

Suddenly Gord was armed with both shortsword and dagger, and he whirled in to press a flurry of cuts and thrusts upon the taller adversary with the longer blade. Had the dagger not been in his left hand to serve as a parrying weapon, Gord would have been killed in the hot action that followed. The dark Bakluni was fast and a superb swordsman. In moments Gord was bleeding from several slight wounds, while Xestrazy had not a scratch upon him. Gord retreated, calming himself, and using all of his concentration now. Clearly, he could expect no help from the captain and the crew of the barge; several seamen had been drawn by the commotion but were remaining a judiciously safe distance away from the combatants. Gord realized this would be a long fencing match, and he would need every ounce of energy, every trick he knew, if he hoped to win.

"Not bad for a youth," Xestrazy said from between clenched teeth. His face was set with a look of confidence as the Bakluni again advanced. After several passes where neither man scored a hit on the other, Gord finally managed to pink the taller fellow. The wound was slight, but it was in his sword arm. Ageelia stopped calling encouragement to Xestrazy when that happened, but she resumed her urging soon enough after he spoke to Gord.

Ignoring her comments, Gord concentrated and attacked again. "And this?" he shouted as he moved into a lunge that he believed would catch the dark Malik unprepared. Instead, the tall Bakluni managed to twist aside so that the short, straight brand pierced nothing more than his baggy tunic. Xestrazy smiled broadly and laughed, revealing gleaming white teeth as he did so. His left hand shot out and gripped Gord's right arm with the strength of a vise. The yataghan rose, hesitated, then fell.

Ageelia cried aloud.

Xestrazy glared at his foe, looking down at the young thief with hate-filled eyes. They stood this way for several heartbeats. Blood ran from Gord's side where the yataghan had slashed it, but the wound was a minor one. The majority of the rapidly spreading pool of blood that now stained the deck of the barge came from the body of Xestrazy.

"How. .?" Xestrazy asked in a small, choked voice.

"You thought mail would save you from the long fang of my dagger?" Gord asked with a little laugh of his own. "Ah, but the blade is enchanted and bites through steel as easily as if it were butter. You were as good as dead when you first grabbed me and held me fast."

The paling Baklunlsh mountebank looked slowly down at his chest Gord's dagger had entered his body below the navel and cut upward to the breastbone, from where its point had pierced the man's heart. Chunks of silvery mail showed through rent tunic and blood. Without further word or gesture, Xestrazy fell dead at Gord's feet.

"This one would have been a boon companion under different circumstances," Gord mused aloud as he tried to catch his breath. Then a scream split the air.

Ageelia, witnessing the death of her lover and reacting in panic, grabbed the leather case filled with the ill-gotten coins. What she thought to do, Gord could not imagine. As he stood and watched for what seemed like minutes but was actually only a few seconds, she ran to the side of the barge, which was now in mid-channel. In one steady, swift motion, she flung her burden overboard and then attempted to leap after it. But the case struck the edge of the raised side, teetered, and then fell overboard. In the process, Ageelia's foot was caught in the long strap handle that held the container shut. The strap pulled tight around her ankle and pulled her into the water as the case fell, and the coins within it served as an anchor.

"No!" Gord screamed in agony, stumbling to where the girl had gone into the water. He thought he could make out the stream of Ageelia's long, black hair disappearing into the depths of the Gray Run just as the valves of the dam swung open and the barge shot forward in the rush of the water.

Some of the crewmen and the captain of the vessel now approached Gord. "What was that all about? Is your wound mortal?" the captain asked the injured thief.

"This? Nay, it is but a cutting of the flesh which will heal in a week, leaving naught but a slight scar as a trophy." Gord answered as he pressed a torn piece of the dead man's cloak to his side to stanch the flow of blood. "As to what happened, it was a matter of honor grown out of hand. The woman was the cause, and she has been served accordingly by powers greater than mine."

The captain shrugged and said nothing in reply. He gestured, and the crew members turned and headed back to their duties.

"Here," said Gord to the blank-faced master of the barge. Take this silver noble for your trouble, and drop me ashore at Longgate or the great South-gate Quay. I care not which."

The bargeman nodded and turned away to oversee his charge. Thus, he failed to see Gord staring back at the waters of the Gray Run with tears trickling down his face. It would be long and even longer still before that countenance would know laughter again.