Night Arrant (19 page)

"Such a bother, this! Here is an advance against our stay. Have a cold supper, Keolsh amber wine, and the usual amenities ready immediately. You do have hot tubs, I presume — and be sure the wine is chilled."

The proprietor's head had been bobbing furiously in all directions as it attempted to provide quick answers to Gord's onslaught of questions. He now hastened to add verbal assurance as well. "Oh, of course, your nobility. The Silver Castle is at your disposal. Rest assured that all will be ready for you and your companion in as brief a time as possible!"

Gord yawned and tapped his foot against a well-polished floorboard in a display of boredom and impatience.

Chert looked down at the anxious fellow, a puzzled frown expertly fixed in place. "Just how long must we wait for your varlets to prepare our suite?"

"We are most efficient, but I fear it will take a small amount of time nonetheless. Please utilize our salon to relax and refresh yourselves. I will personally inform you when all is in readiness."

"Very well, then, my good man. If we have no choice in the matter, then at least show us to the salon." Gord said with an air of resignation.

Seated comfortably in padded armchairs, Gord and Chert sipped wine and pretended indifference to their surroundings.

"What a stupid trick that was," Chert accused in a low voice. "Why not simply ask for the common room or salon? You’ve— "

"Managed to get us both into the place without arousing suspicion as to why we're here!" Gord inserted in an arrogant but hushed tone. "Your way would have alerted everyone that we were come to meet with—"

"The two we'll soon be meeting within minutes anyway! Now we're the focus of attention! All eyes will be on the two flamboyant fools who throw money around and— "

"Happen to meet other travelers," Gord finished. "They are here now, in fact. Let us quit this crap and discourse on matters metaphysical and theological, shall we?"

Chert glared at the small thief and managed a low growl before beginning to converse in a normal tone of voice regarding certain precepts held by worshipers of an unnamed deity.

Gord took an opposite position, countering with acid tongue the assertions that the huge hillman continued to make. They argued back and forth in this manner for several minutes, then Chert turned and seemed to suddenly notice that there were others in the room.

"Now, my not-so-learned friend," he said loudly to Gord," we shall see just who has the better position in this dispute!" With a warm smile and confident beating, the great fellow arose and went to a nearby table where a sober cleric in a dark cloak sat and conversed with a halfling. "My apologies for interrupting you, pious sir and worthy halfling, but my companion and I have been at odds regarding certain tenets of theology and metaphysical constructs that a man of your calling can surely resolve for us. May I impose upon your kindness to mediate and judge our differences? We offer our hospitality in return, of course."

The slender cleric stood and nodded a greeting. "The calling I follow requires my acceptance of such a request and happily so. But do I have your leave to bring my associate along? I would not wish to simply leave him sitting here," the robed man said. Indicating the demi-human.

"But of course! You and he are both welcome. Is this halffing a priestly sort as well?"

Biff sprang from the too-large chair with alacrity. "Allow me to introduce myself and my associate. You are addressing His Faithfulness Poztif, Gleam of Pholtus. I. noble sir, am Biff, a humble gem merchant and pilgrim now, accompanying His Faithfulness to a distant shrine according to a holy vow I made."

Poztif dismissed the importance inferred by the halfling's introduction. "I am a lowly cleric seeking greater understanding and piety. This good fellow has been so kind as to agree to accompany me and assist me in giving instruction and learning patience. Let us join the two of you now. Perhaps the matter can be resolved without undue discourse."

The three debated the question at length in an attempt to create an illusion for anyone who might suspect their purpose, and for the benefit of one patron in particular. As a pilgrim Biff had no part in the talk, so he merely sat there, sipped his stout, and considered the circumstances that had brought him to the inn.

Melf had been elsewhere on business when a message from his cousin, Silverthom, arrived in the city of Fax while the halfling was there awaiting his master's return. Silverthom had written that Melf must come home to Greyhawk at once if he wished to protect some property he had left in her charge. That posed a real dilemma for Biff. Frankly, his master seldom explained his activities to the halfling. Biff was dissatisfied with having to remain inactive and virtually penniless in Fax, cooling his heels as he considered it, while Melf had exciting adventures elsewhere that for reasons the halfling could not fathom, failed to include a halfling with warrior skills and a thief s nimble fingers.

Biff had decided to respond to Silverthorn's urgent missive at once. There was no property of significance to guard in, Fax, merely the small villa that Melf had leased. No objection could be made, the halfling reasoned, for wasn't the need of his cousin and the threat of loss of things Melf had left in her care a sufficient reason for the halfiing to leave his assigned post and hasten to Greyhawk as a surrogate for his absent master? Certainty! Without wasting any more time. Biff had gone northward to the great free city, happy for the opportunity to travel and do something that held the prospect of both danger and reward.

Silverthom had been surprised to see him, but under the circumstances she was pleased enough to have someone on hand to help. The situation, as told by her, was complicated, to say the least.

"You see. Biff, my clever halfling friend, it all started when I went out to seek a little amusement in this dreary city. I met a good-looking fellow — he had elvish blood, of course — who told me that he was also a dweomercraefter, and that he was the trusted henchman of a noble wizard who would happily have me as apprentice until mine own instructor returned." The tale went on and on until Silverthorn finally related how she had been tricked into furnishing a surety to this wizard. It was supposedly proof of her good nature and honesty. Instead, the ring — one that granted invisibility and one of Melf’s favorite possessions — had been stolen by the wily trickster, and she was left without recourse.

Silerthorn told Biff how, while searching to locate the one who had so foully duped her, she had eventually met a holy priest who had offered not only to restore the ring or to give her one of like sort, but to provide other payment as well, if she could enlist the services of her master in a small and righteous undertaking the cleric had need to accomplish. She asked Biff if he could somehow manage to fill in for Melf.

"I am a faithful and obedient vassal," the halfling had assured the frantic young Sitverthorn. "If I can restore Melfs property, uphold his name, and assist you, fair lady, all at the same time, how can I do else but agree to take up the challenge?"

"How can I ever, ever repay you. Biff?"

"It is nothing for a bold adventurer such as I, Silverthorn. We will find some way. I'm confident. . . ."

Convincing the humorless and sober cleric was another matter. How he finally managed it, Biff was still not sure, but he had eventually brought the doubtful chap around to accepting him as the surrogate magic-user Poztif had actually sought Without a lie, without actually making claims that were false, Biff had managed to put across the notion that Melf had assigned him the task of responding to Silverthorn's need. The elf, Biff said truthfully, was on a mission from which he could not be recalled.

After all, was not Tenser, the liege lord of Poztif, likewise so engaged that he had appointed the cleric as agent in the matter? Agreement was unavoidable, and Biff was accepted. Thus he and the priest of Pholtus had come to the Silver Tower to work their stratagem.

"Who are these two who will assist us?" Biff had queried.

"Lord Tenser merely told me that a huge and doughty warrior and a swordsman of great athletic and acrobatic prowess would meet me and give all assistance," Poztif had told the halfling. "The good arch-mage had used a favor owed him by a monarch I shall not reveal, for reasons you surely understand, to assure that I would have all the aid I would need in accomplishing the duty he bestowed upon me."

What an unlikely pair the two were! Biff eyed the small human. His experienced gaze detected that which made him think that this Gord was a practitioner of the same craft Biff himself followed. The small man's huge companion was a rough and ready barbarian masquerading in fashionable apparel, no question of that. So, a stout fighter and a skilled pair of thieves to back up this straight-laced priest in the quest. It should be easy! He would swear Silverthorn to secrecy in return for gaining a ring such as the one she had stupidly lost, keep the balance of the payment given for services to himself, relieve his boredom in the process, and none would be the wiser.

"Now that I have had the opportunity to study things firsthand, halfling." Poztif had said as Biff had been convincing him of things, "the need for a capable caster of magic is great. How can one of your sort assist in such a need?"

"Your Faithfulness," the halfling had said earnestly and sincerely. "I am no mean fellow when it comes to dweomere." He had patted his staff confidently, nodded solemnly, and had risen straight up to the low celling of the cleric's chamber. Returning as slowly, Biff had said. "The dweomer is but one of many that I can call upon in time of need. My services in this quest are indispensable!" Not suspecting that he used magical boots to levitate thus, the somber priest had finally agreed to accept Biff as a member of the group sent to accomplish his liege lord's desire.

". . . and I believe this strongly attests to the absolute superiority of East over West and the irrefutability of the position that the five sorts of evil dragons represent but four elements. To hold that the Western view of five elements is proven by dragons is a complete fallacy!"

This loud challenge was no easy task for the huge barbarian. Gord had spent several hours helping the poorly educated hillman memorize the speeches he would have to make. To Chert and Gord's surprise and satisfaction, the hillman had pulled off this presentation without so much as a stammer.

Chert did not understand many of the words he used in his argument, but he was convincing nonetheless — so much so that Poztif followed up by saying, "Indeed!" and nodding his head in agreement, Biff, drawn out of his reminiscing, watched with keen-eyed interest as Gord offered his rebuttal.

"What force or merit does this assertion have, my friends?" he said, addressing both the barbarian and the cleric. "In all due respect, yours is more a scholarly argument than one of theological sort. What say you, pilgrim?"

Biff took the cue easily. "I cannot fault my spiritual guide's learned and pious opinion, yet I find myself supposing that five elements are possible."

"Exactly!" Gord said with forceful delight heavy in his tone. "Red is fire, blue is metal, green wood, black earth, and white air!"

"Your pardon, sirs, but I must suggest that both sides are wrong and right at the same time."

All heads turned at this. A lean and cadaverous man at a nearby table had been the speaker. As the four turned in response to his interjection, the man arose, smiled eerily, and made a stiff bow. "Allow me to introduce myself. Sirs. I am Maegus Yeo, a dealer in antiques and rarities. If I may be so bold, I am also a scholar of some repute on the Far West and its metaphysical teachings. My honored father actually came from the Suhfang Kingdom — a place virtually unknown to the Flanaess, but a veritable wonder amongst all lands, I assure you."

"Your interjection is no offense, honorable scholar." Poztif said with a pious tone. His three companions murmured agreement and Gord added, "Your knowledge must be exceptional, Scholar Yeo, and I thank you for enlightening us. Will you tell us how it could be that we are right and wrong at the same time?"

The sallow-skinned man gave his superior smile once again, causing his thin, drawn features to appear more skull-like than living. "I am always delighted to share my humble learning with those of inquiring intellect," he replied.

Chert stood up and drew a nearby chair to the table where the four sat, hoisting the heavy seat as easily as if it was a flimsy stool. "Pray join us then. Master Yeo, and we will learn," he said.

"Actually it's Venerable Prince Yeo, if titles are to be used," the man said with a haughty gesture. "Some refer to me as a savant, others as a sage, but I am a simple man, so Scholar Yeo is sufficient. And whom do I have the honor of addressing?"

After proper introductions and the ordering of a special tea for the strange fellow, Maegus Yeo told them the truth of the whole matter. "You, Master Gord, and the little hairy fellow for that matter, are correct in stating that Western metaphysical perceptions are the only conceivable expressions of truth. Five elements there are and always shall be. That was long ago proven by Scholar Thu Kin Boh."

Gord smiled and began to preen. "Then my argument prevails . . . ?"

"Not so, young fellow," Yeo corrected him sharply. "Dragons of the East have no connection with the elements. Only those of true sort, the imperial Dragons of Suhiang, are born of the elements."

"There are dragons that stem from the very planes of the four — sorry, five, you say — elements?" Poztif said this with a doubting expression.

Yeo seemed offended. "Pious cleric of the East, I do not speak of what I do not know. I assure you that there are five elements and five imperial Dragons that are born and dwell within them, visiting the world conglomerate only when they so choose — or are summoned."

"Most enlightening, Scholar Yeo. Will you please tell me of these marvelous creatures?" Gord nearly pleaded. "And I am most anxious to learn how each is distinguished from the other."

"Of course, and I shall oblige in a small way. Golden is the color of the Fire Dragon, green that of Water, while blue is certainly of Air. The imperial Dragon of silvery hue is of Metal, and the one of violet shade is associated with Wood."