Saga of the Old City

Chapter 17

The great hall of the lord mayor’s palace was aglitter with candles and flambeaux. The crowd within was a sparkling array of the elite of Stoink. His Authoritative Lordship Dhaelhy led the festivities, and with him were the various ward leaders, clerics, guildmasters, and other officials who were his liegemen. Attendant to all, of course, were entourages of guards, retainers, servants, and females-grand ladies as well as other sorts. The half-hundred important men, with thrice that number of others in service to them, plus the palace guards and staff, nearly filled the huge chamber. The crowd of lesser bureaucrats and minor leaders of Stoink and its environs brought the crowd to near three hundred.

Long trestle tables were arrayed in the hall, and these boards groaned with the weight of the food and drink upon them. The major domo slammed his ceremonial staff down on a wooden platform constructed so as to issue a booming sound when so struck. At this sound, minstrels ceased their strumming and singing, and jongleurs ceased their tricks, as did the capering jester. A hush fell over the place, for Boss Dhaelhy was about to speak.

“Lords and ladies, masters and mistresses,” (a few titters) “gentlefolk… welcome to this palace!” (Cheers and applause.) “You are commanded here to celebrate because I have just saved Stoink from disaster!” (Louder cheers and heavy clapping.) “Wait… wait… There is more than that. I have strengthened our state, and assured its preeminent position as leader of the Alliance of the States of the Free Lords!”

This last announcement precipitated such a tumult of applause and cheering that Boss Dhaelhy stood silently for several minutes, hands raised, basking in the adulation. At his signal, the major domo again made the hall boom to his staff, and the assemblage was again hushed. The boss continued.

“I discovered a most wicked plot by our former allies, the Hierarchs of the Horned Society.” (Catcalls, hisses, boos, jeers, and whistles.) “Those bastards would embroil us with the cursed Tenha Host, and with us most of the Free Lords of the East, while their filth-devouring legions ran unopposed over our Brothers to the West!” The boss and lord mayor paused here, but the listeners made little noise, for the impact of his statement was being assessed. Then he resumed.

“I discovered this scheme, and brought its leaders low. The agents of the Hierarchs were here-yes, here in Holdroon! They are dead now, their warchest a part of our treasury, and the men-at-arms they recruited with deceit and lies now serve me! Soon I ride with them to Riftcrag. There, a Grand Council of Free Lords will meet, and there we will pursue our crusade to remove the Hierarchs’ troops from Warfields and Wormhall… and I shall be Chief of Lords!”

Dhaelhy beamed as a storm of wild jubilation swept through the crowd and filled the hall with such noise that even the most strenuous beating of the mace-butt on the drum boards could not be heard above the din. A magic-user in the back took the opportunity to cause an illusion of appropriate nature to appear. A line of chained hobgoblins clanked through the suddenly opened doors of the chamber. Each carried the head of a human on a golden platter, and each bloody head was crowned with a horned coronet. This file of captives and grisly trophies was guarded by huge soldiers in black armor, armed with halberds and wearing the blazon of Stoink-a white field embellished with an azure bend, and a golden spear superimposed over all. As this procession entered, heralds blew silver trumpets likewise decorated with armorial bearings. The throng quieted as everyone turned to watch the spectacle. The audience applauded when the hobgoblin captives hurled the heads down at the table before the boss, and each gory pate dissolved into a shower of golden coins and raihbow-hued jewels. The mace drummed again, the illusion vanished, and the onlookers were again silent.

“There is just a little more, dear peers and subjects. I did not accomplish this all alone. Faithful men served to assist, and we are here not only to celebrate my triumph, but to share with these subjects Our glory and accomplishment!” Subdued remarks as to the generosity and magnanimity of the Boss accompanied the applause that followed this remark.

“The Honored Guests of the revel are here, near me. I present them to you all: Gellor, a magsman of Our Thieves’ Guild, and his associate, Gord, a freesword late of Leukish and likewise a member of Our Guild. It is Our decision that each be given honor hereafter as Deputy Bailiffs and Subalterns of the Constabulary Guard!”

There was polite applause and a few raised eyebrows at this, for the boss never gave out such positions unless something big had been done by the recipients. Deputy Bailiff status literally meant a license to steal, and that office, as well as that of the Guard, bore remuneration that even after payoffs and kickbacks would amount to five or six luckies a month-for no work. The pair now standing and inclining their heads bore watching by each of the assembled officials, either as potential rivals or possible climbers whose friendship could be useful. Then His Authoritative Lordship signaled for the festivities to continue, and the revelers were soon engaged in eating, drinking, and conversation once again.

Gord was seated next to the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and all of his attention was on her. Evaleigh was her name, Lady Evaleigh. Her hair of pale platinum and her violet eyes bespoke elvish blood-perhaps from a grandparent or great-grandparent. Gord could not guess which and anyway cared for nothing save the result.

Evaleigh was gowned in velvet of the same color as her eyes, and the low bodice of the dress revealed the perfect symmetry of her creamy breasts. Gord found himself staring at the single amethyst nestled between these hemispheres and wishing he were that pendant. When she turned to speak with him, her long tresses, bound by a fillet of thin gold, rippled as silk stirred by a soft breeze. It was difficult for Gord to understand what she said because her full mouth and soft lips fascinated his eyes to such an extent that his audial senses seemed out of touch with his brain.

The young woman’s face was somewhat drawn, however, and Gord saw great sadness behind the beauty of her eyes. Evaleigh demonstrated no particular enjoyment of the banquet celebration, no happiness in being at the boss’ head table, no pleasure at the flirtation and compliments from the officials and influential men who sought her attention. Gord wanted to be alone with her, and he finally decided give voice to his thoughts, in the hope that he could improve her disposition-and give himself some pleasure, too-by taking her away from the table.

“May I ask Your Ladyship to stroll in the park gardens?” he said, a bit nervously in spite of himself.

“You must ask Lordship Dhaelhy, for I am his charge, and unless I have his permission I can go nowhere,” she replied with a faint smile.

Did her flute-like voice offer hope, or discouragement? Gord was uncertain, but he determined to play it out. “Thank you, Lady Evaleigh, for your intelligence. Pardon me that I knew not you were the ward of His Authoritative Lordship, Boss Dhaelhy. I am new to the town, you know. I shall ask permission at once.”

Although they were being honored, Gellor and Gord were not seated next to the potentate of the city state, but rather two and three places respectively from him. Seeing that the great lord was engrossed in discussion with a rat-faced man to his left, Gord signaled a varlet behind his chair to come to Gord’s place. The surly man, dressed in a soiled tabard that identified him as one of the lord mayor’s staff, came over slowly, but Gord did not berate him for insolence. Instead, he slipped a common into the fellow’s hand and whispered instructions in his ear. The servant grinned, nodded, and went back to his station.

A minute later, the fellow managed to slide into a pause in his master’s conversation and murmur Gord’s request. Boss Dhaelhy turned and met Gord’s eyes. He was smiling broadly, but Gord read hard assessment in the gaze. Then the varlet said something else in his master’s ear that made Lord Dhaelhy’s great jowls shake with laughter.

“Gentle Gord, Our new Subaltern, your request to accompany Lady Evaleigh on a stroll through the palace gardens is granted-on three conditions!”

Everyone else at the table turned to stare at Gord. Evidently, he had done something amiss, but he was not abashed. He responded quickly and firmly. “Your conditions, My Lord, are my orders.”

“Well said, lad! Here are Our con-orders, then. First, Her Ladyship must agree.” At this, everyone laughed, although Gord was sure that there was jealousy behind some of the mirthful expressions. “Second, you must guard her from all harm and return her to Us immediately after your exercise and fresh air are done. Third, and last, you must return her intact, for she is a virgin, and without her maidenhead, her value to Us plummets!”

At that, raucous sounds, ribald laughter, and rude jests filled the whole of the great hall. Gord, surprised at these statements, was slightly amused himself, until he saw Evaleigh’s blush of anger and humiliation. There was something here he must learn, and quickly, if he was to attain his most desired goal, the fair damsel’s heart-and attendant parts, of course!

“Thank you, Your Authoritative Lordship. Consider all to be as you command.”

Then Gord turned and smiled reassuringly at Evaleigh, saying as he did so, “I seem to be as much a butt of this cruel joke as you, lady. I humbly crave your pardon for unwittingly subjecting you to such discomfort. It is now my fervent wish that I had never asked, but since I have, and His Lordship of Stoink has generously given permission, I now ask again: Will you allow me to accompany you on a walk of the grounds? It is loud and hot in the hall.”

Evaleigh searched his face for a brief moment before responding. “I thank you, Sir, for your kindness, and I most readily accept.”

They were soon strolling through the gardens of the palace, alone save for a pair of guards following some distance behind and occasional sentries they encountered keeping their appointed rounds. Gord slowly toured the park with Evaleigh’s arm in his, keeping the conversation light and impersonal. She played her part too, commenting on the fragrance of the night-blooming flowers and shrubs and asking Gord small questions about himself. As they entered a grassy circle, Gord stopped and peered upward at the myriad stars and the two moons, the pale one shedding full beams upon them, the small blue one little more than a thin crescent, rising. His pausing so caused Evaleigh to do the same, and as both stood gazing at the heavens, their escort remained a considerable ways off, hidden in the deep shadows of the hedges.

Gord seized the opportunity. “My lady, what is it that troubles you so?” he asked.

“Captivity is a hard burden to bear, sir,” she replied with a tinge of hardness in her musical voice.

“Durance, lady, is vile indeed, but it is you who hold my heart captive!” he said, speaking softly but with sincerity. “Being a ward of the master of all around us is not captivity, but rather privilege!”

Evaleigh glared at him. “Take back those words, sir,” she said, “or I swear I shall have revenge for your taunting me so!”

This response nearly left Gord speechless. The vehemence of this wonderful woman was undeniable. He hastened to make amends. “Again, I am at a severe disadvantage, fair lady,” he said as graciously as he could. “Do not become angry at me for some ignorance on my part. Be generous and kind, I beg of you! Tell me the cause of your anger, the source of what discommodes you, and I shall pledge myself to serve to remedy all and make right what you view as wrong, even at the cost of my very life!”

Now it was Evaleigh who appeared taken aback. For a long moment she looked into the young man’s eyes, searching his countenance, contemplating. Then, at last, she spoke. “Gord, I may have misjudged you. Know you who I am?”

“Only, fair Evaleigh, that you are the most gorgeous woman ever to have walked our Oerth’s thus blessed soil, and the one for whom I would most gladly die!”

“Spare me these plights, Gord, no matter how sincerely meant and well-spoken. Answer me directly: Do you know who I am?”

“The woman of my dreams, the one I love, the charge of Lord Dhaelhy…. That is the full recital!”

Evaleigh slipped her small hand into Gord’s as he spoke thus. Standing close and staring into his face, she asked, “And that is all?”

“On everything I honor and cherish, lady, that is all.”

“Then hear what I am about to relate….”

Within a few moments, Gord had the essence of her story. Evaleigh was a captive, being held for ransom by Stoink. Her land was far to the east, and her father was Dunstan, Count of Blemu and Lord of Knurl. Boss Dhaelhy was keeping her intact, as it were, pending a reply from her father to a demand of ten thousand orbs for Evaleigh’s safe return to her home. Time was beginning to grow short, for several months had passed without response from the Noble Grace of Blemu. Unless she was ransomed soon, Evaleigh would be sold off to the leader of Rookroost, Plar Teoud Fent, who had offered Dhaelhy treasure and alliance for her. To be sure, ten thousand gold pieces outweighed the sums proffered by Rookroost, vague alliances aside, but meat in the pot was worth far more than magic in the promise, as they said. Thus, the upshot was that Evaleigh was bound for the tender mercies of concubinage of the Plar unless her father’s emissaries soon reached Stoink… or fate intervened!

“Sold? They would sell you?” said Gord when her downcast eyes told him that her tale was told.

“As surely as my father fails to pay my ransom.”

“No one can sell you, Evaleigh. You’re a baroness-and the most beautiful girl in the world!”

“Don’t raise your voice so,” she cautioned softly. “And thank you, Gord.”

“Don’t thank me yet, dear lady. Wait until Stoink is behind us, and then you may say thus.”

Evaleigh looked up at him for a moment, the moonlight making her eyes gleam marvelously. Gord was unused to looking down upon a woman, for his height was such that most girls were nearer to par with him. But this gorgeous creature stood only an inch over five feet, and Gord felt like a hero already as she silently beseeched him to make good his intimation of rescue.

“We must return to the palace now, or they will become suspicious,” Evaleigh said, moving away from him toward the pathway leading to the hall. She still held his hand, lightly, and Gord moved to retain the contact.

“When shall I see you again?” he asked.

“Never, unless you make the opportunity,” she whispered. “Do you think that pig in there allows anyone as young and handsome as you to be near me?”

Handsome… she had called him that! Gord felt as though he were floating above the ground, as tall as a titan. “I shall soon devise a way then!” he responded with great vigor.

“I’ll pray it is so,” Evaleigh said, and gave him a soft little kiss on the cheek, so swiftly and briefly that the guards did not see, and even Gord was uncertain for an instant that it had, in fact, happened. “We approach the sty, so I can no longer be civil, but you are my champion!”

Stiff and straight, Evaleigh entered the palace ahead of Gord. Without another word, she was gone, leaving Gord to return to the celebration. The great hall was only slightly less crowded. Trestles removed, the revelers were now engaged in serious drinking, while a motley assortment of entertainers performed in various parts of the long chamber. As he approached the place of honor, Gellor sidled up to him.

“Your face is as long as a troll’s snout, Gord,” his companion said. “Better put another expression on it, or the boss might be offended.”

“Screw him!” Gord spat.

“Oh, ho! So Lady Evaleigh has scored a conquest, has she?”

“Leave her out of this, Gellor!”

Without showing any umbrage, the one-eyed thief took Gord firmly by the arm and halted his progress toward Lord Dhaelhy’s dais. “For your continued health, listen!” he said. “That woman is a treasure of great value, and guarded thus. If a man sees one who is desirous of stealing his wealth, he acts-get my meaning? Now smile, relax, and we’ll hoist a few tankards! We’re honored guests, you know, and likely to get some companionship from the ambitious ladies here.”

Gord still looked sour, but he slowly nodded acceptance of the advice. “Thanks, Gellor. You’re right,” he said, regaining his composure as he did so.

“Good. I hear that Evaleigh is bound for Rookroost in a few days anyway.”