353.

CORD THE ROGUE.

"He's dead, as we suspected," one man announced to those who were still outside the room.

"Here. I have the killer!" the other called loudly.

A gold-chained magistrate and a silver-chained inspector joined the two warders, and In a moment the party grew by the entrance of yet another pair of men. Gord said to all, "You have me, no doubt but you do not have the killer of Basil the Lock. He was stone cold dead when I arrived here ten minutes ago."

"Who are you?" demanded the magistrate. Before Gord could open his mouth, the Inspector volunteered. "I have seen him around, sir. He's called Gord, and we suspect him of many crimes - Including unlicensed thievery."

Guarding and policing the city was the province of The Watch. The black uniforms141 with white trim were a common enough sight, for the city was divided into nine regular sectors, each with a Captain of the Watch, various officers and men. and bailiffs. Only the university district had Its own protectors, a group commanded by a Master of Arms and composed of men who were tinder Greyhawk's direction only In time of war. High, Garden. Low. River, and Foreign Quarters were sectors, as were the Longtrade District. The Halls and Clerksburg, the Craft District, and the sprawled warren of Old City. For one such as Gord, The Watch was inconsequential.

Most of its members could be duped, bribed, or dealt with in other ways. The Praefecture was another matter.

Greyhawk maintained a small, standing army. The Bastion housed one portion, the Citadel the other. The soldiers of the city wore the reversed colors of the battle flag of Greyhawk, dark gray with a bright red hawk on chest and shield. Their police, and the special police of the city too, were the 354.

Praefecture. In addition to schooling and training the young of the city's officials and recruits for its soldiery, they enforced the laws which were specially decreed and kept rebellious plots down. Unlicensed murder was a capital oflense. This would be the crime they would accuse Gord of. and when they brought that before the Tribunal, there would certainly be some accusations about his various activities as a burglar and gambler, and his having engaged In nonguild thievery. The Praefectors, as these enforcers were called, didn't accept bribes. They were tough and capable.

This was a terrible situation indeed for the young thief.

The silver-chained official came from his inspection of Basil's corpse. Gord thought it time to play his only card. "I am innocent, and Basil can clear me. Have him resurrected."

"Inspector Hone thinks otherwise," the magistrate replied, dryly. He motioned the regulars away, drawing Gord to a corner before continuing. "This place has been gone through thoroughly. Why did you linger here so long?"

"I have been here minutes. Basil was killed hours ago. I need say no more."

Shrugging, the magistrate ordered his men to escort Gord to the Citadel. As they began to depart, however, the official had second thoughts. "Wait a moment. I will see to this matter personally, for if what you say is true, he is a man of unusual abilities, shall we say. Hone, come with me."

As the trio reached the ground floor, the magistrate halted by the rear door. He smiled for a moment, looked directly at Gord, and then said. "What is your opinion.

Hone?"

"The murder of Basil was done by the same person or persons who have been responsible for five unsolved killings in the last seven weeks, sir."

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Gord was stunned by this - would he now be accused of multiple murders? - and repeated his earlier suggestion. "If resurrection fails, it is a small matter to have a cleric converse with the corpse. The last impressions before death remain."

"Have you heard of Vatman before?" the magistrate Inquired, still smiling blandly at Gord.

"Who hasn't heard of him? That ferret has laid more crimes and plots before the oligarchs than . . . You're Vatman?" ; "Magistrate Vatman, now, and about to lose repute and office unless this string of murders is solved. Fortunately, we now have you."

Hone frowned, and Gord was stunned. "Me? This is insane! I demand a clerical reading. In fact, .1 shall even pay for the spell"

"Tough luck, youngster," the grizzled inspector said solemnly. "Whatever else is done in killing the victims, some dweomer is used as well. Nothing - and I do mean nothing - remains in the body for detection through raising from the dead or speaking with the essential memory that lingers; The bodies have all been as empty as if drained by all the Lords of the h.e.l.ls together."

"So I am the patsy. I take the fall, and you save your Job."

Vatman shrugged. "If we hold you a long time before trial and conviction, there'll be no more killings for some time."

Hone smiled, and Gord looked confused. The inspector clucked at the young thief.

Tsk. tsk, my boy! Do you take the magistrate - or me, for that matter - to be fools?142 The intelligence so fortuitously received that enabled us to catch you at the scene of the crime is far too timely to be coincidence. You might well be guilty of many things for which we could arrest and convict you. Of murdering Basil, 356.

though, or the other five, you are as blameless as I."

"Then set me free now!"

"Not so fast, thief," Magistrate Vatman said coldly. "I intend to solve this affair one way or the other. One way is to arrest and convict you, allowing the guilty party or parties to think I actually have been duped, and watch for them to grow careless in the future."

"But lH be dead then!"

"What's wrong with having one less thief in Grey-hawk?" Hone asked earnestly.

"My a.s.sistant Is right, of course," Vatman said with his everpresent smile, "but I have a second reason for handling the matter thusly. Don't relax. It falls squarely onto your shoulders. I'm going to allow you to slip away in a moment. You will have exactly three days- "

"Three days!"

"-to find out who set you up for the little game where you finally slew Xestrazy - yes, we know about that. I think whoever was behind that scam had a larger motive than getting rich from your efforts, Gord. Find the one who set you up there, and we'll have the one who has been committing these murders!"

Gord nodded. "Ill find the one, all right. But I'll need more time. Do you really expect me to solve a crime in three days that you have failed to solve in seven weeks?"

The magistrate ignored the Insult. "Don't do anything else," said Vatman. "Don't try to leave Grey-hawk. Don't get involved in anything else. You have three days, and three days only. After that, we'll arrest you and annihilate you after trial. This Is no threat."

"This is as crazy as the murder charge," Gord shot back. "I'm no policeman. What can I do?"

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Vatman had stopped smiling. "You had better do something. By way of encouragement, allow me to point out that you were evidently doing enough to follow the trail of the perpetrator as far as this place-"

"I wasn't following any trail. I intended to try to get information out of Basil because he was involved- "

"- even if you were later than the killer thought you'd be. Just between us. Hone here has watched the back for an hour prior to your arrival. Ttie tip came too soon."

"Yes," said the inspector. "His Worship knows you're not guilty, as do I. But you have only a short time to prove it to the world, or you must be sacrificed in the name of justice."

That last ironic statement by Hone, the inspector of the Praefecture, still lingered in his brain as Gord prowled through the midnight alleys of the Garden Quarter. He was not followed now. He had been this afternoon, though, picked up from one of the places he kept as a safe hide-away. Prior to recent events, Gord would have wagered all he possessed that none but he knew about these hldey-holes, which Gord continued to change on a regular basis. Now he had less confidence but felt wiser.

Upon investigation of the matter, Gord discovered that the young man whom Basil kept as a lover was gone from the apartment the fence had provided him. Many of his personal belongings were still there, but Gord thought that the fellow, named Kesterin, had either managed to flee or had been kidnapped. It was hard to tell what might have happened, for the young thief found marks of entry In- 358.

dicatlng someone else had been to the apartment for the same reason Gord had come.

Whoever it was, Gord estimated that he was about two hours behind in the chase.

"If I were this fellow, where would I go?" he said to himself as he neared the Processional. Traffic was only moderate, and n.o.body seemed to notice as he slipped into the stream of men and animals. "Would I attempt to leave the city? Not at dusk with a killer after me. Then I would hide . . . but where?" Kesterin was a comely143 and well-bred person, one used to easy living. Old City and most of the rest of Greyhawk would be unappealing and downright dangerous for one such as he. The Strip had Its share of h.o.m.os.e.xuals, but the killer would expect Kesterin to go there, and he would probably know that. Where then?

Unless the fellow had some special friend in the High Quarter, there was only one place Kesterin could hide and realistically expect to remain undiscovered. Gord snapped his fingers and strode across the broad main thoroughfare of Greyhawk, slipping Into the darkness of the trade area which paralleled the Processional to Green Commons and the Newmarket, taking great care that no one followed him as he moved purposefully to the south end of the city. Basil's frightened lover would have hidden in only one place - The University District, where there were many males his age. Effete manners and dress were as common as wh.o.r.es in the River Quarter, and Kesterin would blend in amongst the students and hangers-on there.

The University District was large by Itself, and students lodged in an area that extended from the Craftsmen's Ward on the east all the way to The Halls northward and within the belt of trade that followed the lower Processional from the River 359.

Quarter to the Citadel. The greatest concentration of colleges and students, however, was along the wall of Greyhawk Itself, the very southernmost part of the University sector. Many eating houses and taverns catered to the student trade in this area. It was to this part of the district that Gord went. Although it had been years since he dwelled here, the young thief still had many contacts. He had to take one chance, for it wouldn't do for anyone tq recognize him as Gord as he walked the streets of the district. It was too big a risk to go to the little flat he had nearby, but his old friend Calzo the Trader was probably safe to visit.

Dressed in gaudier fashion now, a floppy cap of purple and olive-green velvet hiding his hair and shading his eyes, Gord left the darkened shop of Calzo to begin his search in earnest. He hated to do it, but he had left his shortsword behind in his friend's safekeeping. Even his dagger was hidden at his back, kept from view by the pleated cape which was In fashion now with students. At his Waist in plain view was an ordinary blade also typical of those affected by the young men who attended the colleges here.

There were no clues to be had at the Flaming Torch, Ancient King, Jolly Master, or Nymph and Satyr. One barmaid at the l.u.s.ty Friar, though, told Gord that she thought she recalled seeing one of Kesterin's general description having been here with a fat young chap about his own age and a hollow-cheeked man she thought was a professor or some such - she was very vague there. A copper richer, she hurried off to serve the thirsty throng of young patrons. Gord left his ale unfinished and went searching again, now fairly certain of his quarry.

The gaunt man the wench described could be no other than Maust the Scholar. If he had, in fact.

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ever professed any particular subject, Gord didn't know what it was. He did know that Maust operated a seedy place called the Inn of the Seven Quills, a few minutes'

walk from the tavern. It was a likely place for Kesterin to hole up in until he felt it was safe to leave Greyhawk, and it was equidistant from Southgate and Longgate too. The only problem was in getting Into the inn without alerting Kesterin. Maust knew what Gord looked like, for the two had experienced several unfriendly encounters in the. past year.

The proprietor wasn't In the common room, so Gord walked boldly into the place.

"Give me an ale-gill, my good man," he said with a merry voice and simpering manner to the barkeep, "and do tell Kesterin I have come with what he needed," Gord concluded, patting his purse to Indicate the need was money. The purse was heavy, and the sound of the chlnkers therein evident.

"Kesterin? I know no Kesterin," the barkeep responded abruptly.

"Maybe he goes by another name these days. You would know him if you saw him. He's very s.e.xy," Gord winked.

"I wouldn't know anything about that!" the bar-keep said, his forehead wrinkled in an unmistakable frown.

"Well," Gord leaned closer, "you're not so bad yourself, and I would know about that!" The good-looking young thief removed a lucky from a pocket inside his robe144 and set It spinning on the bar as he cast an inquiring look in the bartender's direction. "I know you're acquainted with Maust the Scholar and I'll bet you can tell me whether or not he's had any company of late. . . ." Gord gave the barkeep an admiring glance. He was about done with this game. This was a role he would just as soon never have to 361.

play again!

Hie barkeep withdrew the lucky from the counter and said. The person you might be looking for goes by the name Lambert. His chamber is at the back of the inn. on the topmost floor. If you'll pardon me whilst I fetch another to stand my post; I'll tell the man that you've come to see him."

With a flip. Gord sent another electrum piece to the barkeep. "Save yourself the effort, there's a lucky chap!" Giggling in a shrill voice at his own witticism. Gord drawled over his shoulder, "I shall tell him m'self, thanks."

Out of sight, the young adventurer made a wry face and spat. This sort of. pose was not to his liking, but it was far better than being executed "for a murder he hadn't committed. He'd do what he must in order to get to the bottom of the game that had been run, for his whole life had been affected.

The hall was narrow and ill-lighted, but Gord had no difficulty finding his way to the room that apparently hid the dead Basil's boyfriend. Voices were coming from the place, m.u.f.fled by the door, but not so much so that Gord couldn't identify them.

Kes-terin, Maust, and the others must all be within.

Not having his sword, Gord decided waiting was the best approach. He pressed his body flat against the recess of the door to the room next to Kester-in's. He expected to have to remain in this uncomfortable position for a while, but he wasn't expecting what happened next. One minute Gord was vertical, his body stiff and rigid by choice, and the next he was toppling into the darkness of the room behind the door.

"Wha- ?" he cried out in surprise.

"If you've come to rob me," a soft voice whispered, "the valuables I possess are on the top of the lowboy."

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Gord froze. What was this?

There was a sharp intake of breath, the speaker having held it listening for some sound or reply until needing air. Then she spoke again. Take the stuff, but I warn you I am armed, and if you touch me I'll kill you!" the soft voice hissed this time.

It managed to sound quite menacing.

"Sssshhh!" Gord closed the door quickly, cutting off the light from the hallway.

"I'm here neither to rob nor molest. Be still, and in a few minutes I'll be gone."

"How do I know you speak the truth? You've been sneaking around outside my door, haven't you? I heard you b.u.mping against the planks and. rather than have you break it down I figured I might as well let you in. give you all I have and be rid of you without having to suffer the violence that usually accompanies this sort of nocturnal visit."

Gord was exasperated. He would have only a minute or two after Maust left to question the catamite rogue about Basil and the plot that lost Gord a fortune. The owner would certainly check downstairs, and there the barkeep would mention Gord's coming to see Kesterin - alias Lambert - and the ploy would be known.

"Hush! Use your weapon if I move closer - yell aloud for all I care. I'm staying right here until ... I can go out again. No noise meantime." he whispered forcefully.

"I think I'll scream now."

G.o.ds, the woman! "No. no! Please don't make noise!" Gord was nearly frantic now.

"Wait. I have an idea. Before you do anything, think about this. I'll leave you a handful of silver n.o.bles If you remain quiet until I'm gone."

"I don't believe that lie for a moment," the soft voice shot back. "Now I'll scream even louder."

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CORD THE ROGUE -.

"Here! IVe got a handful of coins now - silver, electrum, and whatever else is there. It's too dark to see, but I'll put them on the floor." He let them clink as145 he did so.

"I'll light the lamp to see if you're telling the truth."

Devils must possess this woman. Cord thought. How he regretted the lack of the dweomered blade that allowed him to see in the dark. Without his enchanted sword, he was as helpless as a blind man. Without light he couldn't see. but he didn't want it nowl "Not the lamp!" he hissed back as sharply as he could. "I'm here to hide from another. The light will betray me."

"Nonsense! This is my room, and everyone in the inn must know I'm here. You'll not be at risk from a mere light," she replied.

It did make sense, but Gord remained stubbornly determined. "Don*t touch the lamp!"

"All right, sir smart-a.s.s. I shall not." The whole room was suddenly washed in bright, clear light. "Is this spell to your taste?"

Blinking and owlish, Gord tried to regain his vision, but his eyes were filled with dancing spots. He had been peering almost directly Into the area the woman had used to cast the magic that created light.

"Helpless female, my a.s.s! What kind of a game are you playing here?"

The woman ignored the question. "Well, you look a student, but you act the part of a thief, and you're a bit too old ... so I'd say you're a thief." the female voice laughed softly. "You're not too ugly a thief, though, so I shall allow you to explain everything to me now - and take back your coins, too. You might need them later."

Slipping down to a sitting position on the floor.

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