Gord The Rogue - Night Arrant Part 26

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51'.

Tomorrow I ride west - come with met I'm sure we can fill a few weeks with the kind of activity guaranteed to make any man forget his troubles - no matter who or what they may be."

"I have no desire for such frolicking," Gord said, adding a slight scowl for punctuation.

Hop launched into a long-winded lecture on life and the ways to deal with its problems, but Gord had no intention of letting his words take .effect. "As a savant.

Hop, you are a superb mountebank. Save this patter for marks and those who wish-to136 be entertained."

The bearded, crop-headed fellow was undaunted by the rebuff. "I am ever the rebel, Gord, as you well know. If society or a star-crossed friend were able to put me off.

what would I be?"

"Less noticeable and silent!" Gord volunteered with a slight grin that quickly vanished, to be replaced by a frown once again.

"Touche!" said Hop, with a rueful smile, and feigning a deep wound he continued.

"Now I see that you can relieve your hurt only by skewering those who care about you on the sharp point of your wit."

"Point of my head, more likely. Why not leave off. Hop? I know you mean well, but I Just wish to be alone."

"Gord, this Is not merely a matter of idle chatter and uplifting the spirits of an old a.s.sociate. Considering the adventure - or two - we have shared together, you are one of my closest friends in life. I need you to get back your zest for life, or I shall have to end up doing all your drinking, l.u.s.ting and other miscellaneous adventuring for you! Even I can't handle that much fun!" With that the mountebank winked at the young thief and quaffed the rest of his ale in a single gulp. Gord drank, too, and 342.

the slamming tankards brought the serving wench hurrying to the table with refills.

Hop belched and patted his muscular stomach, where a slight paunch could be seen. "I really should spend some time exercising," he said.

"No fear." Gord teased* "You'll guzzle down a gallon of ale a day for the rest of a long life and never grow fat - you work it off nightly bawdstrot-tlng each willing wench you meet."

Hop laughed appreciatively and then grew serious. "It is good to see you more the Gord of old. IVe heard what Is said of the dancer, Ageelia. I heard of the vast treasure. The tale of her betrayal is oft told. You are more than a bit of a folk hero these days, Gord. I am sorry that the fame is such . . ." Hop trailed off with a sympathetic look at his unfortunate friend.

When Gord heard Hop's mention of Ageelia, the lovely dancer who had been pulled to her death in the Gray Run by the gold and platinum she and her lover had stolen from him. his heart grew leaden and his face became granite again. "You are sorry? So am I," he said flatly, turning to look elsewhere In dismissal of the other man.

"Why not find another girl to love and forget what happened?" asked Hop with a not-to-be-put-off urgency.

"I cannot." Gord replied heatedly.

"You mean you won't. I know you. Your pride won't let you!"

"As you will," Gord said emotionlessly now, his face averted.

"This mourning Is useless!"

"Something else is bothering me," Gord said, now looking squarely into the mountebank's eyes. "Eventually, I'll figure out just what it is that troubles me so.

It Is more than the loss of one who did 343.

r,i not love me. When I find the answer to this disquietude, perhaps then I'll do something besides mourn - as you put it."

"So!" Hop said slowly, with a nod of his head. He eyed the cat-quick young man, seeing determination written on the tanned face and within his deep gray eyes. His scrutiny also took in the slender but powerful body that moved so easily and surely, and the hands so agile as to be able to deal cards from mid-deck, unseen, yet hardened for deadly weapon play. Cord noticed the a.s.sessment but said nothing. Hop finally sighed in resignation, determined to speak again.

"I feared you would be thus. Gord. There are whisperings in certain places."

Without a sign of interest, Gord echoed, "Whisperings?" He barely accented it so as to form a question, but did not really care.

"Yes, whisperings. Hushed talk among those who frequent the hangouts of the guild,"

Hop went on in a conspiratorial tone.

"What? What are you mumbling about?" Gord asked with a trace of annoyance. .

Not wis.h.i.+ng to mention the girl, the mountebank-turned-ostler paused a second, then said sofUy, "The affair with Xestrazy. The sum of money involved. Your part Who137 knows?"

"A thousand and more orbs is bound to make anyone buzz - from the lowest dive to the grandest court."

"Perhaps . . . yes. But before you had even, ah ... acquired . . . the sum for the supposed purpose you obtained it?" Hop asked with a voice filled with implication.

"The h.e.l.ls you say] If you're trying to tell me something, come out with it man!"

The near-shout caused several of the bistro's 344.

nearby customers to turn and see what was going on- Hop ran his fingers through the stubble of hair he so prided himself on. His hair style was formerly a sign of nonconformity, but it was now unremarkable except for the fact that only villains and certain unusual folk from far-off territories affected the style. Gord recognized his friend's gesture as one of nervousness and reiterated, in a quieter tone of voice but a no less determined tone, "What is this all about?"

"Rumor and gossip are unreliable." Hop said in a negligent tone of voice and with a wave of dismissal.

"Dragondung!" Gord spat in a low. steely voice. Tell me the whole of what youVe learned, or by all the-"

"Now take it easy! And can the threats - I am not impressed." Hop added with a mixture of confidence and anger. "As I have told you, I only heard hints and allusions. In all likelihood, none of it has any substance."

Gord was pale now. and his eyes burned with fervor. "Hints? Of what were you given hints? No more beating around the bus.h.!.+ Come out with it. Hop!"

"It is time for me to entertain the patrons once again. Gord," the mountebank said.

As he rose and slung his battered lute over his shoulder, he looked the perfect troubadour. His words, though, were not of music or poetic lyrics. "If I were in your boots, Gord, I'd look up old friends for information, especially those now high in the Thieves Guild."

The meaning of those words was clear - there was a distinct possibility that the scam pulled by Ageelia and Xestrazy had more players involved than those two scoundrels. Hop had implied that the person Gord must question could be none other than the companion of his childhood, the one-time 345.

beggar-boy San. But what would his old friend have to do with a plot against him? He would have to pay San a visit and find out.

Just South of River Street, from the Old Wall to the Processional, trade, commerce, and common dwellings give way to a special element. Hidden behind blank walls and screening buildings are; a collection of large, lavish homes with walled gardens and guarded perimeters. This enclave, not so originally named The Enclave, is located directly east of the High Quarter and touches the green commons near the Newmarket Square. It is the place reserved for the most important of the city's underworld society. The foremost thieves of the guild dwell In The Enclave, as do the leading a.s.sa.s.sins. The community is also the home of prosperous pan-derers and madams, forgers and counterfeiters, actors, smugglers, and a gang boss or two.

However, the head of the Thieves Guild, as well as the Gulldmaster of a.s.sa.s.sins for that matter, and all the other oligarchs and officials of Greyhawk, had palatial residences elsewhere, disdaining The Enclave, as did all who haughtily decreed their domiciles to be in the High or even the Garden Quarter. Only the best of places in either quarter could claim more opulence than the walled villas and mansions of The Enclave, but prestige was gauged by the location of the residence first and the state of the residence second. The best of the worst; and only oligarchical status could remove the epithet.

Gord was comfortably seated In one of these large and lavishly furnished dwellings located within the confines of the place referred to as The Enclave. The dwelling was many-storied and barti- 346.

zaned, impressive on the outside and beautiful on the inside. With flowers growing amidst a befoun-tained garden and room after room filled with the best of furnis.h.i.+ngs, the place must have cost a fortune. The dwelling belonged to San, now a138 master thief, once a comrade and fellow student of Cord's. Entry had been easy for one of Cord's skill, even with a half-dozen guards and various, locks and boo-bytraps set for the less talented. A pair of vicious mastiffs now lay sleeping at the young adventurer's feet, bellies filled with meat dusted with the soporific pollen of duskbloom. Gord was at ease in San's own chair, behind that worthy's desk, in his hidden office located in the heart of the big building. Gord waited patiently. San must come home soon, and when he did, he would come here.

The sound of voices below awakened the young man from a light doze. Footfalls sounded on a nearby staircase, and the sound of a door opening was discernible to the sharp-eared Gord. Then he heard San's voice and that of a woman - probably his wife, from what Gord could hear of their conversation. The door closed, but a faint line of light still showed on the wall where the secret door to the chamber was located. Hands behind his head, feet up, Gord waited. The light expanded to become a full rectangle as a tall mirror swung outward on its heavy, hidden-hinged frame.

"h.e.l.lo, San. Nice place you have here." Cord said dryly.

The startled thief jumped, for he had not seen that there was an unexpected visitor in the secret chamber. He nearly dropped the candlestick he was holding, but managed to recover quickly enough. This is an unantic.i.p.ated pleasure. Gord, to say the least." San said without any pleasure apparent in his tone. Then, more heartily.

Cord's former comrade 347.

from the slums uttered, "It realty (s good to see you! But what the devils are you doing sneaking into my home like this?" San sounded more puzzled than troubled.

"Don't you know?" Gord allowed the question to trail off as he stared hard at San.

The son-in-law of Guildmaster Arentol was a little younger than Gord. San was probably twenty-three or twenty-four years of age now, but he Ipoked older. Soft living and rich food had thickened' him, but he still seemed fit enough. He was larger and heavier than Gord, and if appearances alone were used as a gauge, stronger too. San's face hardened, but he didn't show any sign of hiding some guilty secret "Cut the c.r.a.p. For old time's sake I'll forgive you for breaking into my house and this private room, but you d.a.m.n well better tell me what this Is all about or I'll make a point of forgetting the past. What are you doing here?"

Gord was stone-faced too, and the forcefulness of San's tone didn't move him at all.

"I said I thought you knew why I was here, old chum. Remember or forget the bygone days as you like. I want to have a little chat with you about the more recent past, shall we say."

"All right, tough guy." San said, without taking his eyes from Gord. "Let's Just do that." He hooked a nearby chair with his leg and pulled it over to where he could sit to the side of the table Gord was behind.

"Cute move," said Gord, with feigned admiration, as he s.h.i.+fted his booted feet so that the soles faced his unwilling host. San had to sit up straight to see the whole of Cord's face, and Gord was smiling without humor. "I think we need to take a few minutes to talk about a recent caper."

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"Guild business is none of your affair, friend."

"bet's dispense with party-line stuff, San, and get to the worm at the heart of this apple. Any guild activity that involves me is d.a.m.n well my business!"

"I don't know any guild activity that involves you, Gord. And I'm about as close to the top as you can get," San said in a sincere tone of voice and then added, "Look, word spreads fast, you know? I realize you've had a hard time of it and you probably just aren't thinking straight right now. How about a drink?" he inquired with a comradely motion toward a bottle and gla.s.ses on a small stand next to Gord.

"You pour," said the young adventurer, without a hint of friendliness. Cord's gaze stayed on San the whole time. The fellow seemed to be acting normally now. as he filled two small, red-tinted gla.s.ses and offered Gord his choice. Gord took the one nearest him, sat back again, and watched San unwinklngly.

"Gord, whatever information you're after. I can't supply it. The thieves guild has nothing whatsoever to do with your present predicament," San said gently, then asked, "Is there anything else? Or can I see you to the door and get to my work?"139 This was more of a dismissal than a query, and San's expression showed he was tired of the conversation.

Gord sat up now and placed his hands flat on San's desk. "You better be telling the truth, my friend. If I And out that you knew about what happened, or that your precious guild was involved In it, I'll come back to see you again. I, for one, live now, not in the past. If I find that you haven't told me the truth, then when I return to see you, you'll have no future."

"Get out, now!" San shouted, his face iMd.

"See you around, then," Gord said as he casually strolled out of the concealed chamber.

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A moment later San had second thoughts about letting Cord find his own way out, and followed the young thief s path out of the room to be sure he was really leaving the premises. The guards in other parts of the house said they had seen no one, and there wasn't a trace of Gord or his exit to be found. Cursing. San growled at his men to be more alert, made a note to get more protection the next day, and went to the suite he and his wife called their own. He said nothing about Cord's visit. : Undaunted by his lack of success with San. the young thief was already off into the night. He had formed a plan in his mind, and decided to start at square one - the Lotus House. The fellow who greeted him was unfamiliar. "A goblet of wine would be most welcome, my good man," he told the sallow-faced Bakluni. "And have something on me," he said with friendliness, pa.s.sing a silver coin to him.

"A thousand thanks, master!"

When Gord sat down he felt pangs of emptiness and loss. Another dancer writhed listlessly for the amus.e.m.e.nt of the audience, her performance unlike that of his beloved Ageelia's, her looks different too, but the young adventurer seemed to hear different music and watch a different dancer.

"Your wine, master."

"Stay a moment!" Gord urged the fellow. "I expected to see the man named Ovzool here. I have something to give him."

"That one? Why they ever hired so lazy and stupid a man I will never understand,"

the turbaned servitor said. "That useless lump of camel droppings left without notice, and I had to work two s.h.i.+fts through an entire week before another could be found to replace him!"

"But I owe Ovzool money," Gord lied. "Tell me how to find him. and I am sure he will be grateful."

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"That puddle of dog vomit would never show grat.i.tude to anyone! No matter, master. I can find him and take care of your debt. Give me the sum and I'll see to it!"

As a confidence man, Gord thought to himself, this Bakluni would make a fine dishwasher, Gord laughed in his face. "Do you take me for a fool, rear of an a.s.s?

Tell me where Ovzool is now. or I shall become angry, and you will receive no additional silver piece."

The fellow fawned disgustingly, but he could tell Gord nothing. It seemed that no one had seen the missing waiter since he disappeared several weeks ago. Shrugging, the young thief tossed him a copper for his time and departed the Lotus House.

Tomorrow he would pursue the matter further.

Daylight brought nothing more helpful than had the wasted visit to the Lotus House.

Friendly banter and a few bronze coins enabled Gord to discover that one of the guards from that fateful day was at this time on duty in the Bastion.

He could discover nothing, however, about the one he saw at the gate who knew thieves' cant signs. A few more zees in the palms of the men-at-arms, and a copper common for the other guard, when Gord finally located him, were not productive. The soldier knew only what the young thief had already learned. The fellow's comrade on duty that day had vanished as far as he knew. The Medegian was. or had been before being petrified by the medusa, a very wealthy merchant. Trading in rare tomes and similar materials, he had been given a special pa.s.s by the oligarchs of Greyhawk to enable him to bring exceptional wares to them, and thus the guards were ordered to pay special attention when the Medegian entered the city. Did the guard recall anything else about the matter? No.

351.140 Now Gord was beginning to become disturbed. Ovzool's vanis.h.i.+ng act, the missing soldier-guard who knew thieves' cant, and the ruse of an emissary seemed to add up to the conclusion that this was a long-planned plot. Someone had to know that the Medegian was due to arrive. It seemed that there were many more involved in this than the dead and missing.

"I think it's time to pay a visit to Basil the Lock," Gord mumbled to himself. He was convinced that the rat-faced fence knew what had occurred. He had spilled his guts once, and this time Gord would get the whole truth out of the miserable sodder or literally spill his guts for him!

The shop Basil operated out of was closed and dark, but Gord went around to the rear via a gangway and a filthy alley. The rear door was iron, but Gord found it unlocked. "Careless little rodent, very careless," he chuckled softly as he slipped through the portal and closed it silently behind him. Dim light from a dirty little window high on the wall revealed a nearly empty room. A long bench and several broken crates were all that was in the place. From what Gord recalled, there was a large front area set aside for the shop, which filled about half of the ground floor. Between it and this back room there would have to be some sort of office and a stairway to the floors above. Gord went to the small door opposite the one through which he had entered and pressed his ear against It. Silence. He opened it. That action revealed a short hall with another door at the end. There was a stairway, all right, and a side room without a door. Although there was no light, he checked the room before going up and found an unoccupied, cluttered, paper-strewn office.

"Asleep, Basil? And dreaming sweet dreams? It 352.

Is time to awaken!" There was no response. Gord crept up the steps and searched the first storey, then went one floor higher. In a lavishly furnished bedroom on the second floor, he saw his quarry lying in a huge bed.

"All right, Basil, time to get up!" the young thief said, rudely shaking the foul little man. When Basil failed to even twitch, Gord understood immediately. Basil was not asleep at all - he was deadt A quick check found him cold and stiffening. Gord first examined the man's mouth for any residue of poison, but found no such evidence. Then he pulled back the collar of Basil's nights.h.i.+rt and knew right away that his death was by garrote. Basil probably never woke up to know he was being slain.

This death was no coincidence, Gord thought as he began to conduct a careful search of the chamber. If the dead fence kept anything of special value, it would be somewhere near his bed for constant guarding. Gord found a strongbox and began to work on its triple locks carefully, knowing that some mechanical or magical traps would be included by such a man as Basil had been. He was nearly through with the task when he heard the noise below.

"Upstairs, quick!" The voice was loud, and there were footsteps to match the words.

From the sounds, Gord Judged there were a half-dozen men, and Gord was trapped in a room with a barred window and a door leading to the stairway. It would be useless to attempt to flee, so the young man simply stood and waited.

Two armed men wearing the black and gold of Greyhawk's Praefecture of Magisterial Enforcement entered the bedroom. When they saw Gord standing with folded arms near the bed, one leveled a crossbow, aiming it directly at his chest. The other man checked Basil's still and lifeless body.