The dwarf was fast, but not as quick as his customer. As Hengel’s hand darted for the treasure on the counter, Gord’s small knife intercepted it, guarding the ring-crowned pile.
“Not so fast, my friend,” said Gord coolly. “I didn’t say I wanted to buy it.” He looked at the greed written across Hengel’s face, shook his head, and continued. “No! At such a cost, I am not at all interested.” He scooped his treasure back into his purse, pulled the drawstring shut, and turned for the exit. “I shall look elsewhere…. Good-bye!” he concluded.
“Vait! Schtop!” Hengel cried as Gord’s hand started to unbar the door. “Perhaps I vas too kvick in… aah… counting der zum uff your vealth.” He thrust himself between customer and door, wringing his large, gnarly hands.
Gord dangled his purse from his left hand, watching the dwarf’s eyes following its motion. “Let us bargain further, then,” he said, turning back toward the counter.
It took almost half an hour to come to a mutually acceptable price, and Gord was on the verge of walking out twice more before the dwarf finally yielded. Hengel had tried his best to get the cat’s-eye ring as part of the deal, but Gord had resisted—all the harder when the dwarf had reduced the number of gold orbs he also asked for in order to gain it. That made the young man very suspicious. The ring must have value beyond gold and gemstone, he thought. Eventually, Gord paid over six orbs—all the gold he possessed.
The dwarf was not interested in platinum, although the plates were more valuable than gold orbs by a tenth. Hengel obviously cared much more about the yellow metal that his kind habitually favored. He was clutching the orbs fervently when Gord departed. Somehow, Gord understood, for he was holding the haft of his new weapon tightly himself. It had cost him dearly to obtain it, and he would treasure it accordingly.
He walked around the area for an hour or so thereafter, stopping in the meantime for some cold food and a flagon of ale at a local tavern, before returning to the marketplace. If anything, the market plaza was more crowded than it had been earlier. Gord was about to hurry through when his eye was caught by a swatch of the brightly colored, telltale garb of the Rhennee. Sure enough, there was Adaz, intent on her study of the wares of a goldsmith’s booth. He was merely going to pass without speaking, for he was certain she wouldn’t notice him, when her posture alerted him that she was doing something other than browsing. He glanced at the jeweler and the others nearby, sized up the situation, and moved quickly to the girl’s side.
“Don’t bother with such inferior trash, Adaz, my sweet!” Gord smiled broadly as he said this and took the girl’s arm in his hand. The motion concealed his deft removal of the earrings she had slipped into her sleeve.
Adaz looked up at him, startled, then angry. Before she could utter a word, though, Gord was speaking loudly again.
“Let me see your selection, dear.” He took her hand, and as if by magic the purloined jewelry was there. “Just as I said! Far too common and simple for someone so lovely!” Gord tossed them to the startled owner, and the fellow barely caught them. Two other men who had been moving stealthily toward the Rhennee lass also stopped short.
“Now then, fellow, let’s see something good. Don’t bother with stuff fit for fat merchants’ wives!” Gord commanded.
The goldsmith was taken aback, but he countered quickly. “You don’t have enough—” he started, then caught himself and reworded his objection. “You didn’t say what sum you’d pay. How can I select without knowing the depth of your purse?”
Gord ignored the impertinence. He pointed imperiously at a pair of small but brilliant rubies enmeshed in fine golden wire. “Those, smith, are more to our taste. Fetch them!”
The man brought them to Gord as commanded, but while so doing he jerked his head toward the pair of stalwarts who served as his guards, and they moved to either side of Gord and Adaz. The girl had finally caught the drift of what was going on. She moved closer to Gord and smiled wanly at him. Her olive skin appeared pale.
Without seeming to notice the guards nearby, Gord carefully examined the earrings, allowing the slanting afternoon sunlight to play upon the sparkling facets of the gems, the rays turning them to fiery blazes of crimson. “They are acceptable, but worth no more than a plate,” he said as he stared at the proprietor of the booth, face set, eyes narrowed.
“A plate? Hah! A plate each, I say! Do you think me a dolt or an idiot?” the fellow shouted back. The haggling began. Gord agreed too quickly to a price of two orbs, handed over two lozenges of platinum, received a pair of luckies in return, and still holding Adaz by her shapely arm strode away. She said nothing, for she knew that Gord had saved her from being arrested for theft, but that he was furious over what the rescue had cost him. When she ran her free hand over his bicep, Gord didn’t respond.
Chapter 12
Radigast City was larger than Leukish, smaller than Greyhawk. Gord’s “family” came to the principal place of County Urnst along with a veritable fleet of barges, having sailed from Leukish with seven or eight and then having met and been joined by many others. The convoy was for protection against the pirates who were known to ply the Nyr Dyv between Leukish and Radigast City—and besides, the barge-folk didn’t have to worry about antagonizing anyone with this apparent show of force; the Countess of Urnst, who held sway over this principality, had no particular dislike of the Rhennee as did Duke Karall, her cousin who ruled Duchy Urnst. From what Gord could determine, the bargefolk often received fees from Her Noble Brilliancy for spying, intelligence, or actual services of a more military nature. Gord wasn’t exactly sure of all that, for nobody spoke directly to the matter, and his questions were never answered.
When the flotilla of barges came to a place near the capital city, they went up a small river mouth, a branch of the Artonsamay’s great delta, to Muddich, a large village of some eight or nine hundred souls. The visiting Rhennee always made a point of basing themselves at Muddich and traveling overland to Radigast City, which was only a bit more than a league distant. Perhaps that explained part of the relative friendliness for them that County Urnstmen evidenced.
Before they had taken leave of Leukish, Adaz had been most attentive to Gord. He wasn’t certain if the attention was born of gratitude or the fact that she wanted the ruby earrings, which he had kept. But whichever it was, he didn’t care. Despite all her overtures, Gord was only coolly polite. He had experienced all he ever wanted of Rhennee womenfolk with Estrella. When they put into Muddich, Adaz tried again to win him over, but Gord managed to slip quickly away.
For the next several days Gord explored Radigast, met and talked with its citizens, and covertly watched the less savory elements of the city at work and play. He would have engaged in some amusements and contributed to the city’s economy, but the fact was, he was just about broke. The purchase of his dagger and the earrings, plus the orb he had grudgingly handed over to Miklos, left him with only about four plates to his name. Better off than most—and he realized that—but these days unless Gord had more than a dozen plates in his purse he considered himself strapped. Then an idea struck him, and he hurried back to the village where his “family” had set up camp.
Gord found Adaz at the edge of the village commons, watching a caravan of covered wains setting up there. When he asked her what was going on, her pretty face contorted into a scowl, and she spat.
“These dogs in the wagons claim to be Rhennee too, but they are Attloi—half-breed nothings, vagabonds, liars, and chicken stealers!”
Filing that away for future reference, Gord smiled and invited her to come with him for some fun in the city. They could leave early tomorrow and make a day of it, seeing what there was, eating, drinking, and who knew what!
“I would love it,” she replied, “but I have nothing to wear, and I feel so inferior because of it. A girl must look pretty, you know!” Then Adaz gave him her most appealing glance, and Gord said that perhaps he’d have a gift for her when he picked her up in the morning.
“If it is a nice present, perhaps we won’t have to return tomorrow night,” she said in a sultry voice.
That it would be a nice present, Gord was certain. Returning or not was a matter to be determined by other than Adaz—except rather indirectly. She had better be prepared for quite a day, he mused.
What Gord had in mind was allowing her to exercise her dubious talents as a pilferer while remaining in the background—and using his own abilities. Thanks to the diversion she would provide, Gord should be able to have a field day. It was a cynical thing to do, but why not? He had become a rather cynical fellow, to say the least.
Plotting, Gord strolled off to where he had established his place near the family camp of Miklos.
Bright and early the next morning, he went to where he’d told Adaz to meet him, and sure enough she was there, smiling. He handed her the earrings.
After being careful to keep her out of trouble during the morning, then plying her with wine in the early afternoon, Gord led his unsuspecting decoy into the area of the city where gem merchants had their shops. Although the wares displayed close to where a thief could attempt snatch-and-run tactics were of little value, their glow and glitter were quite spectacular. Adaz was quickly enmeshed in the place, becoming filled with a growing desire to possess some of the beautiful stones that the pair was ogling in the shop windows. They actually entered one place and peered intently at the aquamarines, pearls, topazes, and similar stones there. The place had nothing of really exceptional value, but their visit served to further whet the girl’s appetite for such baubles.
They exited the shop and moved on a few paces, and then Gord told her that he remembered a brief errand he must take care of. Adaz should continue to enjoy herself by viewing the gemstones while Gord was gone for a bit. They could meet again at the end of the lane, only another few hundred feet up, in half an hour. Adaz readily assented.
After walking rapidly away and turning a nearby corner, Gord counted to thirty, slowly, and then retraced his steps in a leisurely fashion. As he again rounded the corner, he saw Adaz entering a fairly large shop halfway down the lane. He continued in her direction in his most leisurely manner, taking special care to remain unnoticed.
From a vantage point across the street, he watched the Rhennee girl examining the contents of the gem merchant’s establishment. It appeared to be a fairly prosperous shop, although not the one he had hoped she would choose. Well, never mind—he would make the best of it. Adaz had been busy in the short time she’d been in the place, Gord noted, as he strolled closer. There were quite a few different stones on the counter, and Adaz was pointing to her earrings and gesturing disdainfully at the loose gems. She was probably demanding to see larger rubies to match those on her ears.
Gord turned partially away from the small glass panes of the shop window, pretending to watch the scattered traffic passing by, perhaps awaiting someone, but surveying the interior of the shop out of the corner of his eye. After another few minutes, Adaz thought she had created a sufficiently confused situation and acted. While she was decrying the terrible quality of the stones she had been shown, the girl used her hidden left hand to take a large spinel. The offended merchant didn’t notice immediately, for by then the two were exchanging rather vile insults. As she marched in mock outrage for the door, however, the man came to his senses and took an inventory with his eyes. Of course he noticed that the spinel was not there, and he voiced an angry shout.
Adaz broke into a run and was outside the place as its owner vaulted over the counter, shouting at the top of his lungs.
Because Gord stood to the right of the door, Adaz scooted left and away as fast as she could, not recognizing him in her haste to make good her theft and escape. Gord stayed planted as the shopkeeper came out and turned left in hot pursuit. It reminded him of his old days in the Slum Quarter, and he chuckled softly to himself. Then he stepped into the shop, drew his dagger, and vaulted the counter.
A large, brawny youth, probably the owner’s son or apprentice, was just coming through the curtain as Gord landed. The sound of Gord’s pommel striking the unsuspecting fellow’s head had a hollow sound, and the blow felled him like a steer at slaughter. Empty head or not, it would be sore for the next few days, thought Gord, but he’s alive. There was no time to fret about that anyway. Every second counted.
As Gord had assumed he would do, the man had taken time to scoop all of his precious merchandise into an iron strongbox and lock it. He had the key with him, of course. The sounds from the lane nearby were growing louder and more frenetic—all was well still, but he would have to hurry.
Gord took his weapon and thrust it against the hard metal of the lock. The point bit as if it were going into soft wood rather than cold iron. After a rapid succession of several such cuts, the lock was useless and the box open. Without bothering to select the better ones, Gord took as many stones as he could stuff into his shirt in a few seconds. Then he recrossed the counter and walked calmly out of the shop, heading away from the brawl going on a few doors down. It seemed that some fishmonger, passing this way on his journey home, had run squarely into the gem merchant. The outrage of the latter at losing the thief who had robbed him was matched by that of the fishmonger, who was demanding to know who would pay for his spilt catch. Passersby took sides, and a near riot was now in full swing. Shutters were being slammed and locked, doors barred. Calls for the Patrol were passing down the streets roundabout. Gord was gone from the turmoil in less than a minute.
He went to a tavern and enjoyed himself there. Then Gord headed for the “Down Quarter” of Radigast City, an area where few questions were asked. The previous day, he’d seen a place there he thought would be perfect for his purpose. When his recognition signal was returned, Gord broke into Thieves’ Cant, and soon the keeper of the place agreed to examine Gord’s merchandise.
The two retired toward a back room. Gord examined the entrance carefully before going in, and scrutinized the room itself even more thoroughly for secret doors or floor traps once he was inside, before settling down to the business at hand. All of this made the fence grin, for he appreciated professionalism in those he dealt with. They soon struck an agreeable price. Two of the man’s assistants fetched his money box, he paid Gord, and that was that. Gord had been careful to have the fellow retain a tithe for the local Guild. Whether he paid it or kept it was his business, but Gord would never be in trouble on that score. Guildmasters had a way of learning the truth, and they seldom used spells to gain such information….
With a fresh half-score of orbs, as well as assorted loose change to boot, Gord felt much better. Now he was solvent again! Time to get on with the rest of it. Whistling a merry tune, Gord went out the northernmost gate of the city, rather than the southeastern one, which led to Muddich. Just as darkness was falling he came upon a gypsy wagon, its driver lounging beside it. After a brief conversation, Gord clambered into the vehicle, the driver clucked the team of horses into motion, and the wagon rolled along the road on its way to who knew where.
One week and fifty leagues later, Gord and his new acquaintances were camped in the rich grasslands of the Artonsamay River Valley. These Rhennee—or Attloi, according to the prejudiced view of the bargefolk—were much the same as their lakefaring cousins, only a bit wilder and rougher. In fact, Gord would never have trusted such folk save for the fact that he was an adopted Rhennee, knew their speech, and actually looked similar to these people. Besides, he had paid them well in gems, although of the smallest and least valuable sort, for their help in his scheme and the subsequent conveyance of his person away from Radigast City.
Gord was frankly happy to be away from the water, but he was sore and stiff. Riding a horse was no simple thing, and his lessons were painful. These wagonborne Rhennee were horse breeders, among other occupations such as thievery, tinkering, and entertaining. This wilderness place was one of their grazing areas, and there were a hundred or so horses with the band. The foal crop had been good, and all t
he animals were in splendid condition. They would be moved to the Great Northern Bend area in another week, and selected horses would be sold at the annual fair and horse market there. That was where Gord planned to leave the gypsy train and seek his fortune elsewhere.
Meanwhile, however, he practiced his riding, played at fencing with the exceptionally able swordsmen of the group, and even learned the use of the crossbow. He had no intention of lugging around one of these small missile weapons favored by the wagonfolk, but Gord decided it would be useful if he knew how to operate a crossbow in a tight situation—such as when the barge had nearly been wrecked by the monstrous creature from the depths of Nyr Dyv.
The journey was unhurried, for they stopped at every village and hamlet to offer services, perform, trade, and occasionally make off with some unguarded livestock or goods. Gord noted that these Rhennee were most prudent in exercising thievery. Since this was a route they regularly traveled, the gypsies were careful to give the inhabitants of their stopping places no reason to feel hostility toward them. They tinkered, traded sharply, sold questionable remedies, and stole only small things. That made them exciting and dark visitors, not threatening ones. When they sang, danced, told fortunes, juggled, made their trained animals perform, and otherwise entertained, a bit of dishonesty could be forgiven. Each rustic felt that it was his or her business to be on guard against minor pilfering and poultry theft when the wagonfolk came. After all, they brought news, excitement, and a virtual carnival with them each time they passed through an area.
The fair was held outside the walled town of Caporna. At Fairetime the town’s six thousand or so inhabitants served as hosts for travelers from all round the place. For the duration of the month-long event the population inside the walls was nearly twice normal, and thousands more camped outside the town.
[Greyhawk Adventures 01] - Saga of Old City Page 12