The Tusmite's visage contorted and became pale with fear. It took some time for him to finally manage to stammer. "No, no, magnificence. I do not refuse anything the great master commands, but— " Gord set the stupid lout down hard, making his heels rap loudly on the stone flags of the floor of the Lotus House and causing his teeth to clack together from the force of the impact. "Tell me then, dog, what did you mean?"
"That one is the bound slave of Malik Xestrazy, a relative of the Marcher Lord of Ket, and a most wealthy trader in ... precious items."
"So? Get to your point, or I shall feed you this one!" the impatient thief demanded, tapping the hilt of his dagger.
"The fame of Ageelia's marvelous beauty and dancing skill has stretched all the way to the Great Kingdom, master. Malik brags everywhere that soon the Overking himself will be sending an escort for Ageelia. He claims that they will bring him, a thousand orbs and take back the flower of Ket to concubinage to the Malachite Throne," the frightened man finished weakly.
Patrons were beginning to stare at the irritated young thief and the quavering servitor, so Gord abruptly changed his tack. He pressed a silver noble into the fat, sweaty palm of the Tusmite and said, "My sincere pardon, brother, for such rude and rough handling. The creature carried my senses away as has never before happened to me!"
It is uncertain whether the apology was believed, or if the coin was of sufficient worth to redress any insult, but whatever the reason, the pock-faced man nodded and even smiled as he replied to Gord, "This sort of thing has happened rather frequently. Many have sought to know that one, but always Malik Xestrazy sends them away like whipped curs. Ah, but no wonder. Not even the lords of this great city have a thousand gold orbs to spend on a female!"
Gord doubted that. He knew he'd gladly have laid down a sackful of platinum plates for one like her. "I would speak with this Malik," he said. "Perhaps there is value in such conversation for both of us. I shall take that table there. Bring your best wine — and Xestrazy — immediately, and the coin you hold will have five brothers with it."
Without a word the Tusmite hurried off. Unfortunately, Ageelia's dance ended just then, too, so Gord sat staring at the vacant space she left until the cloying odor of poppy-scented kif brought him to his senses. A tall, thin, flamboyantly dressed man was followed to Gord's table by the fawning Tusmite. The leader of the duo was obviously Malik Xestrazy, and he reeked of the perfumed and fortified drug.
"Thank you for joining me," Gord said as he rose and gestured to a soft cushion next to him.
"I am impressed that you recognize the honor I am bestowing — so unlike most of your kind." the effeminate Kettite drawled as he allowed the servitor to ease him down upon the proffered pillow. "Where is that Keolsh amber wine you spoke of. Ovzool?" he demanded of the Tusmite.
Crystal goblets filled to the brim with the desired wine were immediately delivered to Gord's table. Gord took a long, satisfying sip of the drink and then voiced his appreciation. "Ah, this is truly one of the most superior nectars I’ve ever experienced. My thanks for introducing me to it!"
"Your hearty approval is thanks enough," Xestrazy said softly. He raised his own goblet to his mouth and took a sip before continuing to speak. "Now, suppose you tell me why you requested this meeting. ..."
Gord was so lost in reverie at this point that he almost gave himself away when the trio ahead of him abruptly slowed up. For a few seconds he failed to do the same, which dangerously closed the gap between thief and prey.
"Please!" Gord heard the hunchback say. "I am not able to keep up with the two of you at the speed we were going." the deformed man pleaded.
"Are you trying to stall us, cripple? If you have something up that ragged sleeve of yours, we can stop right here and now." the Medegian said as he grabbed the poor man by the throat.
"No, I swear to you! I'm just tired. Please, my intentions are nothing but honorable!"
"Hmmph! They'd better be, you lame lackey, or you won't need to worry about trying to keep up with anyone after today!" The Medegian let go of the poor fellow's neck and gave him a rough shove forward.
Gord sighed in relief when the three walkers resumed their former pace without so much as a glance back in his direction. His thoughts returned to his recent meeting with Malik Xestrazy. This time, however, he concentrated more on the present while rehashing the recent past in his mind. . . .
The amused thief chuckled when he recalled how the Marcher Lord's distant cousin had snapped to avaricious attention when Gord made some thinly veiled references to royal blood ties as he displayed the gold and platinum coins he carried. Whether or not the Malik believed that Gord was the scion of an unnamed royal family, the possibility of receiving a king's ransom in exchange for Ageelia had been sufficient to cause him to summon the girl.
One look into the emerald pools of Ageella's eyes had sealed Gord's fate. And to his delight, the beautiful dancer seemed to return this instant fascination. For the next several days, Gord frequented the Lotus House and spent time socializing with Malik Xestrazy, who claimed he might be willing to consider releasing the dancer for "a just sum." The problem was, Xestrazy's idea of a fair price was equivalent to a sum that the most prosperous men in the city of Greyhawk would have trouble parting with!
While Gord spent time negotiating with Xestrazy, the dancer continued to perform for Gord and the other patrons of the Lotus House. Occasionally, although far too seldom for Gord's satisfaction, Ageelia was allowed to join her prospective savior and her present master at what had come to be Gord's personal table at the establishment. Thus had flown the time, as well as practically all of Gord's considerable store of treasure. Thus too, after he finally reached an agreement with Xestrazy, had come this very night when Gord was bent on gaining sufficient gold to free his love from her forced enslavement.
His resolve to purchase her freedom had grown even stronger since Gord first saw Ageelia, because he had stolen a few minutes alone with her during the previous all-too-brief week. Much to Gord's surprise, Ageelia had managed to slip away from Xestrazy's sight a few times. Although how she had done so was a mystery to him, it was a mystery he had not cared to ponder. He was too infatuated to care how his love managed to get away from her master, only that she did.
They met at a nearby apartment, one of the several small dwellings Gord had access to in various sectors of Greyhawk. During those brief, blessed moments they conversed between stolen kisses. She told him of her terrible humiliation and the misery of being a slave and dancing girl. She said she yearned to be free to determine her own destiny — but soon, she said with downcast eyes, she would be bound forever to the mad Overking, Gord nearly wept at this thought, vowing silently to pay the Malik a higher price than even the King of Aerdy would, and thus forever loose her from bondage and allow her to be at liberty in all her actions.
"You see, dear Gord," the lovely girl said sadly, "I had to consent to this because of my father and family. Had I not, Xestrazy would have imprisoned my father and brothers for what they owed to him. What then of my poor mother and little sisters?" And at that, she finally broke into tears. Even a stone would have been moved to pity — and Gord's heart was no stone.
"I am, er, temporarily short of funds," he told her hesitantly, feeling it was a lame excuse, "but I expect a large amount of cash soon!" At that Ageelia brightened, and when they were through kissing, Gord offered her a handful of coins to tide her over until he could purchase her freedom.
"No, sweet love," Ageelia said, returning the gold and electrum pieces to him. "I have no wants that money can buy — save my own destiny, and that cannot be bought so cheaply!"
His heart burning with resolve, Gord had vowed to make things right. Thus, although Gord hated the thought of being separated for more than a few moments from the sight of the gorgeous young Kettite, he had set out this very night to find a source of wealth sufficient to purchase the freedom of a dancing girl whose value was greater than one thousand gold pieces!
Such a sum could be found in certain clerical repositories, the city treasury, and perhaps in the strongrooms of a handful of the wealthiest men in Greyhawk. Why then did he elect to follow a greasy merchant from far-off Medegia? Simple. Gord had discovered that the seeming merchant was actually the most trusted of the henchmen of Medegia's leader. Exalted Holiness Arachna.
When he had earlier passed near the Hillgate, the entry place to the Foreign Quarter, Gord had been desperately seeking some means of getting so vast a sum as to exceed a thousand gold orbs. Merchants entering Greyhawk with such worth were as scarce as frog fur, but it was at least a hope, albeit faint. The bejeweled Medeglan, who entered the city followed by a train of retainers and as many guards, had immediately drawn the young man's attention. Perhaps . . .
Gord had watched as the men-at-arms at the entry gate read the Medegian's papers and bowed. One, evidently a member of the Thieves Guild, passed information by secret signs to a nondescript chap loitering not far from Gord's own place of observation. The young eavesdropper easily read the message: "Emissary of Overking." the fellow had signaled. "Not a safe mark — protected by Medegia, too." It had taken little additional effort to discover just who the so-called merchant was, and picking up his trail had been easier still.
This false merchant was the emissary of Arachna of Medegia — coincidentally, the very agent who was to purchase Ageelia and carry her off to an ineffable fete at the hands of the insane emperor of the Great Kingdom. Soon the Medegian would buy the girl — unless Gord could intervene. It was Gord's good luck that this fellow, who called himself by the title of Fastaal Trevan, had apparently placed some personal whim above his duty to his lord and master.
Exalted Holiness Arachna. Even if Gord was unable to steal the necessary amount needed to purchase Ageelia's freedom, he could at least make certain that the Fastaal failed to show up with the sum sufficient to buy Ageelia for his master. Then, in a few days' time, the young thief was sure that he could raise that sort of money. After all, who in the whole vast city of Greyhawk could match his skills?
A glimmer of light shone ahead.
"Careful, master." The voice of the hunchback floated back to where Gord trailed after the three. "See the steps here? just beyond is the domicile of my mistress, the Grand Wizardess."
"High time, too, lout!" the grating voice of the Medegian snarled. "I have other business 'besides this, you know!"
The three dark shapes went up the steps and soon disappeared through the black opening of a tall, square building that might once have been an armory or some similar place for keeping valuable items. Gord noted that the tower had no doors except the one where they had entered, and the only windows visible were at least forty feet above the surrounding street. He went into action swiftly and decisively.
The nearest building was easily scaled by so practiced a climber as he. Even in the dim light of the single lantern near the tower. Gord could see that the fortresslike structure was smooth-faced. After ascending to the roof of the adjoining building, the young thief quickly uncoiled a rope from his waist and twirled it around his head. The line spun out and its small grapnel caught fast in a dark opening of the tower. All of this took no more time than it would take a normal person to walk up the stairs at a casual pace. The more difficult part came now. Gord could go across on the line hand over hand, but time pressed. So instead, he twisted the cord expertly to make it fast on a projection and stepped out onto the thin, taut rope almost as if it were a broad walkway.
Driven onward by a growing sense of urgency, he slid one foot along, followed by the other, -then began to walk almost normally. Hie cord slanted upward, but Gord had little difficulty as he stepped from the line onto the narrow ledge of the lightless window. Footsteps and voices approached the area. Gord crouched quickly and grasped the ledge, lowering himself until he was hanging by his fingertips, just in time to get out of the range of a spreading light that shone through the window bordering the landing.
"So many steps." puffed the voice of the Medegian noble posing as a merchant. "If there are many more, I will go no further, oaf!"
"Nay, nay, honored master," the voice of the bent servant called out within a few feet of Gord's ear. "There are but two flights more in the tower. We go up only one more, but rest here for a moment and catch your breath while I go on and tell my mistress you have come."
"Stand still!" This came from a third voice, that of Bolgar the guard. "We will proceed together only when Lord Hewstein tells you he is ready."
So the Highness of Trevan. Fastaal, surnamed Vultrano, called Humbolth, second of that name in his lineage, was calling himself Lord Hewstein. It seemed to help Gord to recall this information, thus turning his attention away from the throbbing in his hands and arms. Despite all his training and his fine physical condition, the effort required to hang this way was considerable. After taking another minute or so to get his breath back, the Medegian commanded the hunchback to continue leading the group up the stairway. Gord immediately raised himself far enough to see the three disappear upward and then, with equal amounts of speed and stealth, pulled his body up to and through the window. He crept slowly up the stairs until he reached the next floor.
Gord cautiously peeked around the corner, seeing a small room with hangings on every wall, a thickly carpeted floor, and a scattering of rich-Jook-ing chairs and divans. A single opening, an iron-bound door on the far wall, showed between the tapestries. The three other figures were standing together roughly in the center of this room.
"This is the antechamber where we must prepare for meeting the Grand Wizardess," the hunchback said. Then he asked the two visitors to be seated and added, "You, noble merchant, must leave all metal items behind when you pass through that door and upward to view and bargain for the wares offered by the lady."
"Never!" exclaimed the Medeglan. "I'll not venture into some unknown place unarmed!"
"The dweomer surrounding the repository of the items in the possession of the Wizardess demands that no metal be present," the bent-backed agent wheedled. "But consider this, gentle lord. If you must relinquish your weapons, so too must you leave safe behind all your precious metals. Jewels can optionally be left too, and all will be guarded by your trusted manservant. I am obliged to remain here, too, so if anything goes amiss — a needless fear — what problem for such a man as he to slice me to ribbons and come to your side in a trice?"
"And if I agree to this nonsense, how am I to pay for the items I have selected? My gold will be here!" The pudgy Medegian accented his displeasure with a contemptuous sweep of his right hand.
"Your man guards your wealth, sir, and the door at ground level guards the exit from the tower, for only I know the secret place to press and thereby open it. Thus, both guard and gold will certainly be here when you return. The price of the items you desire — negligible, I am certain, because of my mistress's foolish generosity — you will simply leave here on this stand. Then you and your man will return the way we came, I will open the exit door for you, and everyone will be happy," the crooked fellow concluded with his awful grin.
The so-called merchant hesitated, then consented. "All right. Bolgar, I charge you with alertness and caution in watching this lout! if I cry out for help, lift his ugly head from his deformed body and come to me at once!"