by Paul Kidd
At the conference table, a high priest of Geshtai faced a high priest of Bleredd, each man staring at the other with a look of unremitting hate. Both men were wealthy refugees from the lost Duchy of Tenh. Fat and gorgeously decked out in robes, rings, jewels, and vestments, they left to their underlings the tasks of screaming threats, hurling invectives, and demanding justice from the baron. Instead, the two priests stared at one another in silence, the air between them shimmering with half-formed spells.
So far, the meeting had been utterly futile. The heralds of the two temples roared at each other almost continuously.
Slamming at the tabletop, the Bleredd representative turned scarlet with outrage and shouted, “War! This time we will wipe Geshtai’ssacrilege from the face of the city!” Gold rings encrusting the herald’s fistsleft scars upon the table. “The hammer Whelm has been stolen by agents ofGeshtai’s temple! We have eyewitnesses who saw Geshtai priests fleeing with thesacred hammer!”
“Lies.” The Geshtai herald made up in pure disdain what helacked in fury. “Piddling lackeys of a third-rate god, they have stolen thetrident from our treasury and now invent tales to distract attention from their crime.”
This brought about the inevitable fresh burst of anger. Clerks and witnesses from both the temples shouted out their evidence, and the baron could only breathe hard, drink deep, and try to sift evidence from invective. Finally, he hammered on the tabletop with a heavy iron mace, tearing a fresh set of scars on the walnut table. The noise brought no results until the man roared in a voice more used to parade grounds than palaces.
“Shut up!”
An offended silence fell.
“Quiet!” The baron slammed his mace flat upon the conferencetable. “If neither of you are lying, then you have each raided one another’stemples! If both weapons have been stolen, then you are both even.”
“Search our treasury!” The Geshtai herald rose, his wholebeing seething with hate. “Cast scrying spells. You will not find Bleredd’shammer in our halls!”
“They have shielded it from spells!” Bleredd’s herald threwopen his arms in rage. “Where is justice? If the army will not help us, then thetemple will take the law into its own hands!”
The baron leaned forward across the table and said, “Transgressions against the civic peace will not be tolerated. If either of youmove against the others temple, if you riot once again, the city guard will fight you! Both of you will be declared enemies of the state!”
There was a confident sneer from the priests.
“It will take more troops than you have here to take downBleredd’s temple… or Geshtai’s.” The Geshtai herald spewed forth his wordslike poison. “Will you run whining to the countess, my lord? What will she thinkof a man who cannot even keep the peace in his own city?”
The baron wrenched his mace up from the table, only to be held in place by a interruption from the far end of the conference room. A young man stood, deliberately blocking the way between the baron and the herald.
“M-my lord? Neither temple may have wronged the other afterall.”
Seated amongst Trigol’s three law officers, young Allain hadrisen to his feet. He intruded into the midst of the hatred, trying to let reason calm the storm.
“My lords and holinesses, there may be another explanation.”The lawman waved a hand at the shaven-headed, scar-faced man who kept well to the far side of the hall. “This man is on a commission from the countessherself. He has an… alternate solution.”
All eyes turned toward the Justicar. The priests slitted their eyes and made a calculating appraisal. The law officers beside Allain shifted uncomfortably in their seats. The priests leaned back in their chairs and did not deign to speak. The Justicar had a grim, monastic simplicity that contrasted starkly with the law officers and priests in their golden robes.
The senior law officer shot a distasteful look toward the Justicar and said, “Who is this… person?”
The baron poured more wine, took a sip, and said, “He is ondirect commission as an agent of the countess of Urnst.” He seemed far fromhappy about this, since it meant that the Justicar was beyond his own jurisdiction. “His credentials are correct.”
“Credentials,” the lawman sneered. “Why should we place faithin a damned adventurer?”
“I doubt if he gives a damn if you do or not.” The barondrank. “He doesn’t answer to me. He doesn’t answer to you. For once, just shutup and listen.”
The baron jerked his goblet at the Justicar, signaling him forward. Contemptuous of the priests, lords, and clerks, the ranger arose with a creak of leather armor, striding dark and huge toward the watching men.
“Yesterday we saw a set of illusion spells used to triggeroff the riots in the marketplace. An erinyes is in the city. She had control of a soul-eating sword with a black blade.”
Priests stiffened, and law officers stirred uncomfortably. The heralds leaned in to conduct whispered, intense conversations with their masters.
Bleredd’s herald finally straightened, wiped the palms of hishands against his tunic hem, and spoke. “How… how do you know it is anerinyes?”
“I fought it.” The Justicar turned toward the herald, hisblack armor gleaming in the firelight. Behind him, Cinders leaked sulphurous steam. “It was a baatezu, a shapeshifter, a seducer-and it controls a force ofhuman thieves within the city.”
The herald hastily waved away the scent of sulphur and said, “So this devil-creature now has our sacred weapons?”
“Unlikely.”
The Justicar’s own blade caught sparks of firelight, itswolf-skull pommel glittering in the gloom. “The erinyes had her own weaponstolen during the market riot. The thief is a sorcerer of considerable power.”The man slowly raised up his hell hound skin and draped it across his helmet and his shoulder blades. “If the temples’ sacred weapons are missing, the sameculprit is responsible. He boasts that he now holds three weapons for us to retrieve.”
The Geshtai herald gave a sour laugh and leaned contemptuously back in his chair. “How do you know?”
“I know.” The Justicar turned, his face cold andsavage beneath the grinning hell hound mask. “He has a date with justice.”
The baron held out his goblet as a servant poured more wine. The Justicar drank but did not join the politicians at their table.
“Who else saw this… erinyes?” the baron asked.
“I did, my lord. Briefly.” Allain licked his lips. “And forthe past month, there have been… occurrences. Bodies of murder victims.Each and every one of them had… had lost its soul.”
“The erinyes’ sword is called Blackrazor.” The ranger putin. “It is a soul-eater. The man who stole it from the erinyes was chief of theSorcerers’ Guild library.” The big man tossed back his wine. “Your city isbreeding maggots.”
Far down the table, a clerk cast a disdainful glance at the Justicar.
“An erinyes? Soul stealers? Mysterious wizards?” The clerkset his goblet down with a thump. “A convenient little fantasy concocted by youalone. My lords, you can’t seriously be suggesting that we take the word of thisvagabond.”
The Justicar gave a low, feral growl. His red eyes gleaming, Cinders echoed the noise with a thump-thump-thump of his tail. At this point, Escalla popped into view above the center of the table and briskly clapped her hands like a carnival announcer.
“Bzzt! All right, important safety note at this point! Donot piss off the Justicar!” The girl rowed backward through the air withher busy wings. “This is a nice room, a flammable room. So, lest we all want ademonstration of the mystic fighting arts, let’s at least show minimalbelief in each others’ integrity.”
The Bleredd high priest finally deigned to speak. He resettled his golden mitre, spared a scathing glance for Escalla, then turned to face the baron.
“And what is this… this winged thing?” The manprodded at Escalla with one huge fingertip. “Why is a pixie at this council?”
“Hey, for your information, I h
appen to be a faerie!”Escalla swatted the fat man’s hand. “And no one touches the faerie!”
“What’s the difference?”
“We have cuter butts!” With a sudden flash, Escalla providedherself with illusory scholar’s robes. “Now, just to recap: We have a new theoryon these thefts, and it has the added bonus of avoiding internecine war.”
A temple clerk glared at the faerie, leaned back in his chair, and folded up his arms. “So to corroborate this… Justicar’sstory, we are relying upon a pixie?” The man gave a sour laugh. “What do youtake us for?”
Escalla popped out of her illusions and bent over in her leathers, slapping at her athletic little rear. “Faerie, bright boy! Seethat lift and clench? That’s faerie derriere! Read it and weep!”
The baron seemed tired of the whole business. Taking another drink, he gave a sharp, annoyed hiss and flung himself back into the depths of his throne.
“It’s absurd that Blackrazor could ever have been here.” Thebaron shook his head briskly, dismissing the whole idea. “To have Whelm, Wave,and Blackrazor all together in one city again is an unlikely circumstance.”
The Justicar lifted up his head. He seemed to be in a poor humor. “This has happened before?”
“These three weapons were all stolen once before. At thattime, they were stored in the City of Greyhawk.” The baron waved a hand asthough brushing the thought away. “A wizard stole them. Some adventurers gotthem back. It was all a few years before the wars.”
Escalla lounged in the middle of the table, ostentatiously made herself comfortable and gave a weary sigh.
“Oooh, I can see this one coming from a mile off. Please, do tell the details.”
The baron merely drank more wine.
One of his scholars cleared his throat, decided that this was the perfect time to assert himself, and assumed a pedantic tone. “The hammerWhelm, the trident Wave, and the sword Blackrazor resided in the City of Greyhawk once. The weapons were stolen by the wizard Keraptis, who sought to demonstrate his superiority over local heroes by placing the weapons at the center of a maze and daring one and all to come and take them.” The scholarshrugged. “A powerful sorcerer, but a man of somewhat childish proclivities.”
Focused upon his mission, the Justicar finally found himself a chair, turned it the wrong way about, and sat down. In the hours since the riots, he had spoken long with the local law officers. Trigol’s librarian hadheld his position for only three years, having come here from Greyhawk some time before. The man had settled in Trigol, had finished what he came for, and now had fled. The librarian had to be found. Thus far, the only lead was the librarians fixation on the legend of Keraptis.
The Justicar leaned his chin upon his folded hands. “Tell meabout Keraptis.”
“Ah.” The scholar pulled at his nose with a superior air.“Thirteen hundred years ago, Keraptis was one of the region’s major sorcerers, agenius, though quite power mad. He ruled a considerable empire, slowly draining the lands with greed. He had some rather absurd theories about absorbing the essence of others to enhance his own abilities. When he began to butcher his subjects for the purpose of massed human sacrifice, the people revolted. He escaped-and there we lose him.” The scholar shrugged. “He disappeared for anentire millennium. Then for reasons unknown, he returned ten years ago to Greyhawk to conduct the theft of three magic weapons: Whelm, Wave, and Blackrazor.”
Jus poured himself more wine and said, “Legend said he diedyears ago.”
“Rumors of his death seem to have been somewhat precipitous.”The scholar steepled his fingertips. “However, he was quite definitely slainduring the Greyhawk wars in a battle seven years ago. He was decapitated by a vorpal blade while fighting as an ally of Iuz.”
The Justicar fixed the other man with his dire gaze and asked, “Where is the body?”
“It was destroyed.” The scholar raised one eyebrow in asuperior little air. “This is no mere story. It is history! There are definiterelics of the event. A lock of Keraptis’ hair is encased in a crystal cylinderand kept in our own library’s vaults.”
Escalla clapped her hands and leaped importantly up onto her feet. “All right, let us take it as fact that the big K is deader than a dwarvenfashion plate, but we do still have a crime! Your librarian has already told J-man and myself that he wants us to retrieve three weapons in some kind of weird little test he’s set for us. So let us assume that your librarian hasalready raced off with your toys and put them in hiding somewhere.”
The senior law officer opened out his hands and said, “Why?”
“Because your librarian has a real thing about Keraptis!” Thefaerie circled her fingertips madly beside her skull. “This guy likes to readabout Keraptis, write about Keraptis-now he even dresses up as Keraptis!Call it a wild guess, but maybe he even wants to be Keraptis!”
The high priest of Bleredd sank down into the collar of his robes and thought.
Beside him, the temple’s herald mused then said, “Why wouldanyone seek to copy a dead sorcerer?”
“Because he’s a loon!” Escalla flung open her hands. “Thisguy has a serious Keraptis fixation! Maybe he wants to recreate the big K’s greatest joke? Maybe he wants to go one better and out do the guy?” Thefaerie gave a shrug. “Maybe the guy really is Keraptis? Who knows?”
“Keraptis cannot return.” The baron’s scholar rappedhis knuckles on the tabletop. “His remains were destroyed and cannot bereanimated. To clone the wizard, someone would need a sample from his actual body.”
Escalla gave a nasty little snort. “You mean like a lock ofKeraptis’ hair? Like the one in your library’s vaults? The library where oursorcerer worked for the past few years? Think, people!”
Several of the priests turned pale and began an embarrassed study of the tabletop before them. The senior priests simply seethed.
With Cinders’ hide rippling sheer black upon his back, theJusticar turned to face one of the hall’s painted walls. A mural of the entirecontinent gleamed and glittered in the lamplight. Allain joined him and stared at the painted plains and hills.
The Justicar glared at the wall as though sheer force of will could project him at his prey. “Where were the weapons taken the last time theydisappeared?”
“Here.” The lawman pointed to a position almost three hundredmiles to the north. “White Plume Mountain, a volcano on an ash plain. It’s awasteland now. The bandit kingdoms there were annihilated during the war with Iuz. We’re trying to repopulate the zone with colonies.”
The mountain marked on the map was well past the northern borders of the County of Urnst. It adjoined the region of new settlements, the regions that relied upon wagon trains for food and winter clothes. The Justicar stared at the map, then settled his black sword, already planning his route.
“This was a stronghold of Keraptis?”
“Extensive. The first exploring party hardly scratched thesurface.”
The Justicar grunted as he ran a hand across the map. White Plume Mountain was dangerously close to the settlements that were reseeding the wilderness. If the librarian was setting up the mountain as his kingdom, then the colonies would be a danger to him-too many eyes to see, too many troops outon patrol…. The raids on the supply convoys were finally explained.
“He’s at White Plume Mountain. He’s been trying to depopulatethe nearby border to keep newcomers away. Keraptis may have left considerable relics there that he intends to exploit.” The ranger’s deep voice drove throughthe facts one by one. “Yet he has now almost deliberately revealed himself.Why?”
A priest hissed petulantly from the conference table. “Thisis all merely supposition! There is no proof that this librarian-wizard ever took Wave and Whelm!”
“The first step is to search White Plume Mountain.” TheJusticar turned away from the gigantic map. “If the weapons are found andreturned, then your proof is there. You will have no further cause to threaten war against each other’s temples.”
Bleredd’s high pri
est looked up sharply and said, “Youpropose to find the weapons?”
“I propose to bring this librarian to justice for crimesagainst the innocent.” Huge and sinister, the Justicar seemed to breathe in thescent of prey. “In White Plume Mountain, I can find him.”
Escalla flicked a look between the map and the Justicar, then tried to drag the man away. “It’s been a long day, and my friend here is alittle tired. C’mon, Jus. Time for bed!”
Jus glared at the girl and said, “We’re going. The librarianmust be brought to justice, and Whelm and Wave must be recovered to prevent a civil war.”
Escalla whirred close to whisper frantically in the Justicar’s ear. “Are you crazy? That dungeon was specifically designed as ahero-trap! It’s a damned fortress!”
Ignoring the faerie, the baron sat back and folded up his arms in thought. “We will not entrust such a mission to a single ranger. We willneed to send a team to represent all interests in this matter. Geshtai and Bleredd shall each provide a priest as an observer. From my own garrison, I will send a sorcerer, a paladin, and at least one archer to provide you with proper fighting power.” The baron laid his hands flat upon the table, glaring at theassembled men. “Whelm and Wave are all that matters. The other thefts this manhas done are of no consequence to me.”
From across the table, Escalla’s tall ears pricked like arabbit’s. “Other thefts?”
“He has absconded with the library treasury of over eighteenthousand nobles, as well as wands, jewels, relics, magical scrolls, potions, and spellbooks.”
With a noise like a crossbow bolt, Escalla shot through the air, landed on her stomach in front of the baron and batted her long lashes. Her artless smile had more teeth than a shark.
“And these would be in your ‘spoils of war, finders-keepers’category, yes?”
“The state would require a thirty-three percent tax upon allsuch profits.”
“Which as good servants of the state, we’ll report to youwith unfailing accuracy!” Escalla raced back to Jus, hovered above the hellhound’s ears and polished the animal’s black nose with a rag. “Mister Baron, weare on the job one hundred percent at your command! My boys guarantee delivery!”