Part 3 (1/2)

”We have pa.s.sed the Realm of Thought and my prize is aT but won!” Only the waiting Bocheiris, toothy maw agape, was there to hear the wizard speak, however. Gord and Chert had vanished.

”Did it!” Gord exclaimed in triumph. He was standing on the weed-grown paves of the ruined courtyard of Castle Greyhawk. He had hoped he was right, but until now the young thief hadn't been certain if envisioning this place and wis.h.i.+ng Chert and himself there would actually work. It had. and now he and the ma.s.sive hillman could tramp safely back to the city, out of the nightmare realms hidden beneath the castle, with their spoils to be divided.17 ”Okay, Chert.” he said without looking around as he heard the barbarian exclaim with glee at where they now stood, ”let's see the treasure you thought up!”

The next sound Gord heard was a sweet, seductive giggle. Then Chert answered him.

”Sure, pal, but we'd better think up a tub of water real soon. This pretty little mermaid wants to have a swim before dinner!”

46.The Weird Occurrence in Odd Alley -CROSS MY PALM WITH n.o.bLES, n.o.ble youth, and you shall have my best reading.” With that the old Rhennee crone cackled and winked suggestively.

Chert snorted derisively, but Gord complied with the request, dropping a half-dozen silver coins into the dirty, dried-up old hand. The crone wrapped her clawlike fingers possessively around the treasured n.o.bles, and the payment quickly disappeared into the folds of her soiled robe.

”Read your rede, woman, and make it clear,” Gord snapped. ”At such prices, you should predict the future unerringly!”

The old woman's icy glare sought to penetrate the young thiefs soul. ”Mind your tongue when you speak to a Wise Woman of the True Folk, young Gord! Remember, you sought out Old Annya, not she you!”

Gord shrugged but said no more. Mollified, the ancient hag brought forth a small leathern container that looked to be as old as its owner. She held the container in her left hand and, while making odd. jerky pa.s.ses over the top of the antique box with her free hand, mumbled in a high-pitched voice: ”Take now the runes and slgils of your fate.” Then she solemnly extended the mysterious container and motioned for Gord to reach Inside.

47.The contents of the leather coffer were not visible to the young thief as he reached up and inserted his hand into the box. His fingers carefully scouted the mixed group of small objects that seemed to squirm and twist away at his touch. Gord's forefinger and thumb played a strange game of tag with several of the elusive contents inside the pouch until, having grown tired of the chase, the young thief clamped all five fingers around a jumbled ma.s.s of jiggling mystery and extracted the mysterious mess from the box. Before he could examine his catch, however, the crone spoke again. ”Now loose them, one by one - if you can!” she commanded.

Gord wanted to obey the old woman's orders, but the task proved to be much more difficult than he imagined. The young rogue fought to suppress a groan as he strained to do as he was instructed. The strange objects worked independently on their own behalf in spite of Gord's obvious wishes, each stngle-mindedly intent on wriggling out of his hand.

Chert perched himself on the edge of the bench he'd been offered as respite and watched with more than casual interest as his friend managed to hold on to all but a few of the squirming things clasped within his sweating hand. Old Annya called out the names of the falling components as Gord slowly spilled them: ”Bauble! Skull and snake. Shoe. Dagger and stinger. Rat. Eye. Nothingness! Coffin, horse, torch - gateway!” Gord shook his now-open hand, but a small object refused the offer of freedom, seemingly glued fast to the startled rogue's palm. Old Annya seized the hand and peered at the last sigll there. The Fool's Cap!” she exclaimed gleefully, and then sat back in her rickety chair and, abandoning what small sc.r.a.p of propriety she may have possessed, cackled hideously.

48.”Enough of this!” Chert spat impatiently. ”Give the meaning, or return the silver!”

”Oh, yes! You both shall have your glimpse of the future, just as promised,” the crone screeched mirthfully. She sat back, a self-satisfied look dominating her prunelike face. ”Listen carefully now,” she purred, gazing fully into Gord's face.

”You and your overgrown a.s.sociate” - at this, she paused, to throw a disgusted glance in Chert's direction - ”have stolen something that many hold dear.” She leaned closer and enunciated the next few words with purposeful emphasis. ”It is of evil!” The old hag sat back and let her warning sink In before continuing her soothsaying. ”Know now that you are hunted because of this. None you have spoken to will give you gold for the trantle - or at least as much as you two think your prize18 worth. You have sought a fence throughout most of Greyhawk, and come here as a last resort.”

Gord was nodding as she spoke, but his barbarian companion was scowling. ”Easy enough to guess, old bag. Get to your rede!” said Chert.

Old Annya gave Chert a look that was sufficient to wither a flower in first bloom, but thereafter ignored him and went on.

”There is a place that Is neither here nor there, but If you leave from here and go to Odd Alley, you will realize your fortune from what you have . . . appropriated.”

The ancient Rhennee wise woman then sat back, gazing from one to the other of the two young men. Her face was impa.s.sive, but Old Annya's eyes fairly danced with malign amus.e.m.e.nt Chert stood up and moved toward the crone, his face clouded with growing rage. ”If you want to play games, I'll show you games, you miserable old . . .”

”We leave now!” Gord said, using all his strength to pull the hulking barbarian away from his intend- 49.ed target and out the door of the ramshackle establishment. Peals of crackling laughter followed them out the door, but Gord continued to steer his enraged friend toward Odd Alley.

Odd Alley, an area within Greyhawk's Old City, was so difficult to locate that most citizens of the metropolis were unaware of its existence. Gord, a consummate thief, burglar, and swordsman, had spent many years in the slums of Greyhawk practicing his skills. He knew the people and the city, so many of the places within Odd Alley were not foreign to him. But one thing that was not familiar to him was an inability to dispose of loot.

Chert, on the other hand, was a woodsman from the distant east and as such was not entirely accustomed to Greyhawk's nooks and crannies. However, as Cord's friend and companion for the past year, he did know quite a bit about hards.h.i.+ps in the wilderness, life-and-death battles, and now thievery, as it were.

And he knew Cord's code of ethics where thievery was concerned. The honorable thief took only from takers, swindled the dishonest, and stole from those who gained by foul means. It was a long-standing point of honor with the young rogue, one the huge hillman sometimes found hard to accept.

If there was occasionally a question regarding the line between honesty and fairness, Gord usually allowed his friend to make the decision regarding the prospect. After all, there were more than a few eligible marks in a city the size of Greyhawk.

”What are we going to do now?” Chert asked, his tone implying a sense of despair. ”I told you that dark temple was no place for life-loving thieves to rob! If you had listened to me, we wouldn't be in this messl”

Not wis.h.i.+ng to hear yet another lecture in what 50.was becoming a continuous series, Gord thought last He and Chert had stolen into the Great Temple of Nerull and had taken a reliquary of red gold from the altar of the sanctum sanctorum. This gem-encrusted object was worth a king's ransom - that is, If they could sell it. Gord knew that it contained a substance the priests of the grim deity claimed was ichor shed by Nerull himself. Gord also knew now that no dealer, collector, or fence in the whole of Greyhawk would even willingly lay eyes on the reliquary, let alone pay cash to possess it!

”Are your ears failing you, oaf?” Gord asked his comrade sarcastically. ”Didn't I tell you Old Annya would know the answer? You heard her tell us how to be rid of the thing and be rewarded tool”

”I heard her say that dark evil hounds us. I heard her babble gibberish. That is what my good ears heard all too well,” Chert responded, his tone a combination of anger and self-pity.

”Ah ha! She fooled you, then, old chum. That biddy is a mean and tricky one, I'll admit,'' Gord said brightly.

”Mean as they come.” Chert nodded in agreement ”But tricky? How so?”

”She speaks in riddles and half-truths in order to make the customers agree to pay more. We need not worry, though. Recall you the runes and sigils I brought forth?

Remember the gateway at the last?”19 ”So what?”

Gord pointed to the dim end of the alley. ”See yonder? There is the gate that shuts fast Odd Alley. Beyond must He our goal!”

”Hmmm,” Chert said, doubt creeping across his rugged features.

”Come on! I'll show you,” Gord said confidently. A few minutes later, that confidence was gone. The distant end of the alley, a place evidently shunned 51.CORD THE ROGUE.

by all living creatures, had its gate, certainly. The portal was old, iron, and locked. Knocking, banging, and pounding did no good.

”This cannot be,” Gord said with exasperation.

”Horses.h.i.+t!” his huge comrade sighed. ”Let's get out of here and plan a Journey.

Greyhawk is getting too unhealthy of late.”

”Will you allow a few a.s.sa.s.sins, noises In the night, and one locked gate to scare you off?” demanded the smaller man.

”Gord. If you call murder attempts and night daemons nothing, you're either a brave fool or a stupid oaf. And I'm not going to stand around here and ponder which of the two categories best describe your present state. I am going to saddle my horse and ride elsewhere - while I'm still able. You do as you wish,” Chert said with an air of finality.

Gord had tried to make light of their peril ever since they had left the temple with the dreaded yet valuable relic. The young thief pretended it was little more than a joke because his comrade had'stubbornly resisted his plan to steal the Reliquary of Ner-ull from the temple right up until they had actually pulled the whole thing off.

Since then Chert had said little, but his expression spoke volumes.

Gord had noticed that they were followed after they had approached several fences who normally bought stolen Items such as the purloined reliquary. All of these so-called dealers were quite adamant about their lack of interest, and one of the proprietors had them ejected from his premises at first sight of the pair. Then it was evident that something was seriously amiss.

That same night they had been attacked by four a.s.sa.s.sins. As was customary, Gord and the barbarian had gone on an evening carouse, ending up at the Green Dragon. Because the dauntless duo picked up 52.on the fact that they were being trailed when they left the tavern, both feigned drunkenness, an act that probably saved them their lives. The killers were not as careful as professional a.s.sa.s.sins should have been. As the a.s.sa.s.sins sprang from concealment to strike, they found that their ”drunken victims” were anything but disoriented.

Gord met them with sword and dagger. Chert with his great axe, Brool. When it was over a minute or two later, three of the four murderers were dead, and the fourth managed to escape only by luck. Both adventurers knew they had been lucky. The next time the a.s.sa.s.sins would be more experienced and much more clever. And the ”next time” was not to be far off.

Congratulating themselves on their skill, Gord and Chert had returned victorious to the old stable they had rented and made Into an apartment. The two young men carefully barred the door, set various alarms and traps as was customary, and went to bed. They were awakened not long after by a loud clang and an awful, blubbering shriek.

A high window, left purposely unshuttered as an inviting means of entry to the place, had served its purpose. The window was equipped with a heavy bar of Iron that was set to crash into anyone attempting to come into their domicile via this particular route. The trap was set such that a body crossing the sill of the opening would trigger the mechanism releasing the iron bar. The pair didn't have to wait long for an unsuspecting victim to put the device to a test. Something had indeed entered by the window, and the Iron weight had swung like a pendulum, cras.h.i.+ng into the ign.o.ble intruder.

The impact had broken the cord, and the bar had rung like a bell against the stone wall as It fell loose. Both Chert and Gord had rushed over to in- 53.vestigate. hearts in their throats and weapons in hands. One look at their ”catch”20 was enough to make both men shudder. A horrible daemon, a thing with slimy scales and suckered appendages, awaited their arrival. Whatever it was, the heavy lump of iron had damaged it, and the daemon was still reeling when Gord and Chert entered the chamber. Sword and axe bit into the horror, and the adventurers managed to deal it mortal wounds before it could recover. Again, they knew that luck had been with them. Future visitors of this ilk would not be dealt with so easily.

With all this fresh in his mind, Gord couldn't blame his friend for wanting to plot a new course. He stared at the bulky barbarian for a long moment. Chert, arms crossed, jaw set and eyes narrowed in a ”don't mess with me” glare, was the perfect picture of resolved determination. But Gord was not about to let him go without a fight. ”You lose all claim to the prize if you desert!” He tried to goad the hillman into reconsidering, but Chert wouldn't budge.

”Well rid of ill And this Is far from desertion, my friend. It is definite self-preservation. You seem to have a death wish, and that is one adventure I'd just as soon steer clear of. And you're supposedly the, brains behind this partners.h.i.+p.