"We have, lord. At your leave, I will deliver to Good Priest Boflly and Wizard Phompton that which I gained from Quodilde. Likewise, I bear the prize demanded by them for King Archbold."

Lord FIzziak sat quietly for a moment, tugging on his lower lip, lost in deep thought. Slowly his features lightened, and a twinkle began to light his eyes. He smoothed his face with a calloused hand and spoke In a stately manner. "Gord of Greyhawk, you are a commoner no longer. For what you have accomplished, I hereby elevate you to the status of Gentleman and Esquire to the House of Fizziak. Master Chert I elevate to Gentleman as well, and your men-at-arms I pardon for past oflenses and name them Yeomen of Fizziak. I will instruct them to report to the constable tomorrow, to receive a.s.signments In my own army," he said.

"Thank you, Lordship, for your undeserved generosity," responded Gord with sincerity. "But there is also a matter of the loo- er, Jewels, that were held in, ah, safekeeping for Chert and myself. . . ."

"Ahem! Well, yes, now that you mention those baubles, I do recall something of the matter. We can discuss It further tomorrow after the ceremony welcoming my nephew back and elevating you and your comrade above your current base positions."

Gord wasn't about to be so easily put oif by men- 150.

tion of a petty honor. "Most gracious! Still. I remember your word about receiving those gems when we successfully fulfilled the trial we so recently underwent and sorely suffered."

Lord Fizziak's countenance was dark, but Gord remained inflexible. When he was unable to make the young thief blink, the grand count scowled and shifted uneasily.

"Very well. After removing sufficient value to a.s.suage the royal displeasure with your lese majeste, replace ruined garments and other finery, and repair damages done here, I believe that a small sum still remains. I shall have the steward of my exchequer account for the whole and give you the exact reckoning on the morrow."

"How much remains?" Gord asked weakly.

Lord Fizziak gestured dismissal, saying as he did so, "Oh, a handsome sum, I a.s.sure you, for one of your station - no less than a half-score golden orbs, as I recall, along with a considerable balance in luck-ies, n.o.bles, and lesser coins."

Although Gord nearly fainted from the shock, he managed to stagger from the hall.

"What's wrong, Gord?" Chert asked as he noted his friend's condition.

"WeVe been elevated to Gentlemen," the young adventurer managed to reply. "It must be the joy of such an honor that makes me pale and reeling."

The hulking barbarian looked somewhat unconvinced but said no more.

Later that night, Boffiy and Phompton arrived at the chamber the two young men shared. "Give us the object needed to complete the test," the Good Priest of Fizziak said in resonant voice. "And then we will hear an explanation of all that occurred."

"Welcome to our humble quarters," Gord replied. He graciously showed the two to a pair of chairs, bowed, and then presented Good Priest Boff- 151.

ly with a small, carefully wrapped parcel. Disconcerted, Phompton looked on as his a.s.sociate unwrapped the package. Chert, unable to extract any information concerning the status of their confiscated treasure, was in ill humor and glowered silently from a reclining position on one of the two cots in the room as the cleric tore the oiled parchment from the box.

The container that the wrapping had protected was a finery crafted little coffer of silver and mother-of-pearl inlaid in a variety of rich, mixed woods to form an object of great beauty. Good Priest Boflly was somewhat hesitant, but Phompton was eager. "Get it open, Boflly," he urged his fellow official.

"This doesn't fit the description," the cleric said with a small shrug. Puffing out his cheeks and then emitting a little sigh, he hesitated still. "How came you by60 this lovely little box?" he asked Gord.

"I was told there's a vellum square inside, good sir, that relates the whole matter.

I am certain it will answer all your questions to the fullest," Gord told him with an ingratiating smile.

Phompton was getting Impatient. "Don't be such a craven, Boflly. There is no fear of any danger here inside the castle - and these two are certainly incapable of harming either of us."

"Nevertheless, I am troubled," the priest retorted. "You detect for any enspellment, while I seek possible malign power surrounding this coffer." So saying, the cleric began to work a spell to find evil, while the court wizard resignedly went through the ritual for discovery of hidden dweomer. In a few moments both had finished their pa.s.ses and stood rapuy concentrating on the box.

"Not a glimmer of magic," said Phompton.

"Nor do I find evil," admitted the priest. With that he opened the container and drew forth the 152.

sheet of vellum he found therein. As Boffly took the sheet out, there was a m.u.f.fled whoosh, and a cloud of bright green dust was blown over the startled faces of both men. Boffly dropped the box, and it broke on the hard flags of the stone floor.

Phompton, meanwhile, leaped backward, trying to brush the stuff from his visage. All he succeeded in doing was getting his hands stained vivid green so that they matched his face.

Chert began guffawing at the sight of the green-faced duo, while Gord did his best to appear amazed and shocked. "My good lords!" he exclaimed in mock horror. "What has happened here? Are you all right?"

Good Priest Boflly Ignored all, peering intently at the sheet of parchment. "There's more than one way to skin a pair of old coots!" he said.

"What are you talking about?" the wizard demanded furiously, wondering if his a.s.sociate had been unhinged by the shock of being stained in brilliant hue of purest vert.

"1 am reading what is written here, you fool!" Boffly shot back to Phompton. "And it is signed 'Quodilde'," he added with a rising note of disbelief. "She's done it to us again!"

The court wizard and chief cleric of Flzziak turned in unison toward Gord, terrible things written plainly on their features. Just then there was a banging of halberds outside the door, and after a single knock the strutting Lord Preppyn entered and unknowingly Interposed himself between Boffly and Phompton and the object of their revenge.

"On your feet! The Grand Count of Flzziak comes to honor you with his presence!" the popinjay proclaimed boldly. Then, as he turned slightly to be in better position to be noticed by all entering, he got a look at the green-faced pair. "Yowl" he squawked.

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trying to get his feet into running motion white holding himself erect by grasping the door.

"Be silent and stop trying to run awayl" the cleric commanded.

A now-speechless Preppyn still thrashed his feet wildly.

"Be still!" the cleric thundered.

Preppyn stood motionless, mouth open.

"You utter Imbecile." Phompton said, forgetting In the heat of the moment just who the new object of his anger was. "I am Court Wizard Phompton, and this Is Good Priest Botfly. Ignore the momentary discoloration that obscures our otherwise handsome features. And close that door immediately!"

Preppyn's mouth managed to open and shut several times. Then he stammered. "I cannot. Wizard Phompton and Good Priest Boflly. Lord Flzziak even now enters this room!"

With that, the grand count himself stepped Into the chamber. "What Is all this?" he asked, seeing the barbarian hillman collapsed in helpless mirth and Cord holding his sides with laughter. Then he got a look at his two grand officials and began chuckling. The whole was so infectious that even the stuffy little Preppyn was soon giggling too. Finally, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. Lord FIz-ziak said.61 "So this time Quodilde has definitely paid you back."

"It would appear so, on the face of it," Phompton admitted.

Boflly drew himself up and said haughtily, "I shall have this silly stuff removed in minutes, my lord, and then we shall see who has gotten whom!"

"Enough of your foolery! I am no longer amused with buffoonery and tricks of this sort. I command you both to set aside this petty squabble with Quodilde and prepare for our upcoming journey to Rel 154.

Mord. and forget all lesser matters!"

The capital? Why does my Ill.u.s.trious lord desire to go there?" Boffly said with a bit of remonstratlon evident in his questions.

"If you weren't so busy with your j.a.pes, cleric," the grand count said Icily, "you would be aware that our beloved nephew. Lord Maheal, is betrothed to Lady Dulicia of Grimalkrnsham."

"Quodilde's brat!?" the cleric snapped before he could restrain himself.

"Your reference to Lady Dulicia. daughter of the Baroness of Grimalkin, Is ill-advised." said Lord Flzziak with an Icy stare. "I will not remind you again that her ladyship is not to be referred to as a brat - evert She unites the barony with Flzziak lands," the grand count added meaningfully.

"Of course, lord," the deflated priest said humbly. He allowed Phompton to steer him out then, without protest. As these two were making their hasty exit, Lord Preppyn shouted after them, "And never refer to me as an imbecile again! Really, Uncle, you must do something about the manners of your help!"

Lord Flzziak told the two adventurers to prepare for their audience and elevation on the morrow, then departed with Preppyn dithering in his Wake.

It was much like pulling teeth from unwilling monsters, but Gord eventually managed to get a full accounting of the fortune he and Chert had managed to gain, then lose here at Castle Flzziak. The steward presented Gord with a long sheet filled with writing and sums, shoving small stacks of gold, electrum, silver, copper, bronze, and even bra.s.s bits along with it. "This is exact and to the last 155.

coin." the official said smugly.

Gord went over the reckoning carefully. The steward was taken aback as he saw the young man reading and checking the addition. Surrept.i.tiously, the fellow slipped several more coins into the piles before him. Gord pretended not to notice. "Here!

What's this about a 'gift*?" he demanded, coming to the end of the long column.

"For the n.o.ble couple on their upcoming day of joy," the steward said smoothly.

"Lord Flzziak personally instructed me to extract a generous amount on your behalf to honor the house of the groom."

"Oh," Gord said tonelessly, sighing at the loss of yet another ten gold pieces. All told, he had only forty of the gold coins left to share with Chert. The remainder didn't amount to a single orb. This was going to take some tall storytelling, but what the h.e.l.ls, it was better than nothing. Gord rationalized.

Chert, naturally, was furious at the loss of their fortune, which was perhaps the largest sum ever stolen in Greyhawk. After a day or two he started speaking to his comrade again, if only to threaten to tear him apart for having gotten him into the whole mess in the first place. "I told you we shouldn't have stolen that relic, but no, you had to have your way - and now look where it's gotten us! The next time . .

." and on he went, incessantly stating'his complaints until Gord wondered if he'd even allow his friend to accompany him in an adventure again as long as he lived!

Dealing with the irate and vengeful Boffly and Phompton was another matter altogether. They had made common cause with Pinkus and even Lord Ma-heal, all somehow blaming Gord and Chert for their troubles. All in all, the next week was miserable, but the young thief managed to survive the ordeal through staunch determination and plenty of 156.

ducking. Then it was time to accompany the grand count's vast train on its journey to the royal capital of Nyrond, the city of Rel Mord.

Quodilde's green pigment had taken days to remove, but both Good Priest Boflly and Court Wizard Phompton now appeared normal again - although in a certain type of62 light the pair tended to appear a bit seasick. The population of County Fizziak turned out in large numbers along the well-kept road to see their lord and his entourage pa.s.s on their Journey. It was a splendid sight, with the accompanying soldiers arrayed in the tawny and sable of the Grand Count of Fizziak. banners snapping in the breeze, and the panoply of other armorial bearings that dotted the sea of Fizziak colors. Lady Dullcla rode alternately In a palanquin and upon her elaborately decorated palfrey. She looked stunning regardless of whether she wore a gown of silk or velvet, scarlet or azure. Dulicia's conversations tended to center around material possessions or court etiquette, and Gord thought she was likely to be as demanding as she was boring. That was certainly fitting for her groom, and both Gord and Chert enjoyed many a laugh at Lord Maheal's expense.

Naturally, being an esquire to the House of Fizziak ent.i.tled Gord to ride near the n.o.bles of the caravan, but whenever possible he stayed back with Chert and the less privileged members of the train. He avoided the very rear, though, for Pinkus was located there. The ehjure had done his best to avoid the pilgrimage, but to the dismay of all involved in the test, they had learned that their enthrallment would continue to operate until the item Gord was charged with carrying was delivered to King Arch-bold. Besides, Lord Fizziak wished the ogreling to accompany the procession as a nonesuch, so to speak, for he appeared to be a most fearsome mon- 157.

ster. In order to highlight this, the grand count had special clothing prepared for Pinkus - exotic-looking pantaloons, a Jack of costly oliphant hide, and a cape of lion skin. In fact, Pinkus appeared most grand and ferocious, but he didn't seem to appreciate his finery. His always foul temper grew worse. Even the doughty Chert shunned the ogre-magus whenever possible. Gord watched him carefully, for he was positive that Pinkus was in league with Bofity and the others and plotting some mischief against him and his barbarian companion. It took a full fortnight to reach Rel Mord at the leisurely pace required by so diverse an entourage as that of Lord Fizziak.

Rel Mord was a large city. Gord thought it was nearly as large as Greyhawk itself, although there was little resemblance between the two. Of course, both places were walled, but the barrier surrounding Rel Mord was lower, broader, and covered more area. Actually, the city was ringed by commons, or nearly so anyway. The low wall and jutting bastions were fashioned in such a manner that the ground inside was nearly as high as the top of the wall. The gra.s.sy meadows were thronged by small flocks of domestic animals - goats, sheep, geese, and even some small kine.

Hamletlike cl.u.s.ters of dwellings gradually gave way to the closely packed structures of more urban sort, and finally, in the center of the city, were the tall buildings and narrow streets typical of a town or city. Most towers were octagonal, and the buildings tended to show many angles. This was very unlike the cities to the west.'

Similarly, arches were rounded here, not peaked. Gord found the whole scene quite exotic. His travels to the north of Nyrond and its frontier regions had never revealed the true feeling of the kingdom as this place did.

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The royal palace was situated on an island in the river that Rel Mord was built around. This at least was an aspect more like Cord's native city. The Dun-tide River flowed around two islands, and Rel Mord was constructed so that these separate pieces of land were a part of the city, yet remained apart. One island was linked to the mainland by three bridges, the other by a single span. Gord learned that the former was a commercial district, while the latter was a royal demesne reserved for the rulers of Nyrond, their peers, and those who served them directly. A sprawling complex with quadruple walls comprised the palace, with attendant government buildings and quarters for the soldiers of the guard In the outer rings.

The low walls of Rel Mord were set back from a gently sloping park that stretched from the main portion of the city to the wide bridge leading to the royal Island.

There was a miniature fortress on the landward side of the bridge. Gord supposed that a hundred men could hold the place against an army, with magical a.s.sistance, of course. The heavy stones of the bridge provided a broad causeway to the island, and this structure was protected by crenel-lations and squat towers and riverward-facing bartizans. Any enemy attempting to escalate the bridge, or coming along it. would have a difficult time indeed. The island gate was composed of many great towers and63 a turreted building through which the road to the palace pa.s.sed. Arrow slits and murder holes in the ceiling of the sixty-foot-long pa.s.sage were sufficient proof of how well-constructed this place was. The grand count and his train were given royal honors, naturally, and the procession pa.s.sed through all the guardposts and entered the royal demesne without incident.

The Isle of Nyrond was a strange mixture of grim 159.

stone fortress and lovely little parks and gardens. The whole area was vaguely oval, about a mile long and half as wide. The palace of His August Supremacy, Archbold III. King of Nyrond, rested squarely in the center of the whole, and two of the four walls of the island's defenses surrounded this complex of buildings. The n.o.bles of the Fizziak entourage were housed within the royal palace, while the rest were parceled out amongst the lesser palaces. Gord and Chert ended up in an outer building reserved for those of military calling but lacking knighthood. Common soldiers went elsewhere, but noncommissioned officers were quartered on the lower floor. Both young adventurers were pleased to be In this place, for it got them away from Phompton, Boflly, and the constant surveillance of the main complex.

After they had spent one day loafing, word came that they were to prepare themselves for a private audience with the king. The special meeting was to take place that very afternoon, the day before the revel celebrating the forthcoming nuptials of the Szek of Dohou-Yohpe and the Lady Dulicia. heiress to the Barony of Grimalkin.

Exactly three days after this fete, the wedding itself would take place in the Cathedral of St. Trowbane. Gord wondered if the venerable Quinthup. Chief Cleric of Nyrond, would officiate. And if Dulicia's dear mother. Baroness Quo-dilde, the witch, would grace the ceremony as well. Gord shuddered at the thought of having to face either of them, let alone Good Priest Boflly, Wizard Phompton, and the redoubtable Pinkus. Fortunately, these worthies would certainty be at odds. If one group could be played off against the other, he was certain that he and Chert could escape the whole affair unscathed. If only he could devise some means of profiting from it as well, everything would be wonderful! As it now stood, they would merely turn over 160.

the item required by King Archbold. receive a royal pardon, and be sent on their way after the nuptials. Net toss for the whole adventure would be something In excess of ten thousand gold orbs - or ten million zeesl This was a sad pa.s.s indeed.

"Chert, I have a plan," Gord suddenly said.

Chert took another swig from a great tankard of stout that he'd cadged earlier from a storeroom. "If it's like the other ones you've had recently, I think I'd rather not hear it."

"Trust me. pal, youll like this one!"

"Something tells me I've heard that line before." Chert snorted, but he listened nonetheless.

"Well done, lads," King Archbold said softly as he stroked the rather ordinary-looking stone that Gord had handed over. His Majesty of Nyrond saw Chert's doubtful look and smiled as he drew forth an ancient broadsword and displayed it, saying. "The pommelstone has been missing from this blade - The Sword of Dunstan, Wisebrand by name, and The Sword of Nyrond - for generations!"

"The ruby set there in its stead appears far more handsome." the big barbarian ventured.

This bauble? Bah! It is yours," the monarch said. He pried it from where it had been looser/ placed and tossed the glittering sphere toward the astonished adventurers.

"A token of Our pleasure at having so nicely accomplished the test"

Gord restrained an impulsive move to grab the stone before the slow-moving Chert could catch It. As the blood-red gem disappeared into the huge hill-man's girdle, the young thief said. Tour majesty's generosity Is as expansive as his realm, but we did but little to deserve such honor."

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"Little," King Archbold muttered, fitting the dull piece of mottled black and white rock into the pommel of the great sword. "Little? Why. for years and years the kings of Nyrond have been trying to get this stone back. Quodllde's grandmother took it64 from Dunstan the Second when he spurned'her as queen, and it's been held in Grimalkin ever since - those miserable witches have extraordinarily long lives, you know."

"The old battleaxe just handed it over when Gord asked!* Chert said incredulously.

"Well," the thief added. "I did make a promise or two - ones 1 have no intention of keeping."

That is your affair!" interjected the tall, gaunt royal mage as he stepped forth and made several mystic pa.s.ses in the air. "As far as the pommelstone is concerned, my liege, it is fairly dweomered and melds as one with the blade. Nyrond Is whole, and your majesty now wields power with wisdom."

Gord tried to find an opportunity to request that he and his companion be given permission to leave Rel Mord immediately, but King Archbold held up his hand Just as Gord opened his mouth.

"You are dismissed. Be In attendance at the High Revel three days hence, where We will also bestow royal thanks to confirm the honors given by Our subject. Lord Flzzlak." With that, the pair of guards swung the doors of the small audience chamber wide, and the two young adventurers bowed and backed out of the room.

"Now what, my clever friend?" Chert demanded.

"What else save my original plan, which you did not like?" asked his friend sweetly but with a hint of superiority.

Hie brawny hillman stared hard at Gord for a long moment, then nodded once In agreement. "As you wish." And so saying. Chert lashed out a beefy 162.

fist so fast that even the nimble young thief was unable to dodge Its force. Whack!

The sound caused guards to start and stare, while a trio of pa.s.sersby uttered oaths of surprise.

Gord rolled and made his collision with the corridor wall sound far worse than it was. Then, as the big barbarian advanced as if to finish the affair, Gord sprang erect with dagger in hand. "That was your death warrant, churl," he said, and as he hissed the threat, the young adventurer crouched menacingly, his long dagger poised to stab or disembowel.