Tick puzzled over that a moment, helping himself to think by taking another pull from the flask of fiery liquor. "That buggerin' li'l dwarf is a mean un, an' who can tell what's goin' through that dirty dwarf mind he's got. Yesserday he wuz a jabberin' and cursin' and bossin' us about all the time. Today he jes' sits on his horse and don't talk at all, an' now he's holed up in his fancy-assed tent and lettin' us have some fun for a change… Hey, what's yer outfit again?"
"Loner – just came in and signed up with that skinny elf called Keak."
"Thass funny, I don' recall any loners bein' taken on…"
Gord put his arm around Tick's shoulders. "Come on, old pal! Let's go and see if maybe Keak can explain it to you."
The outlaw jerked away as if Gord were a leper. "You full of crap, boy! I ain't goin' nowhere near that crazy li'l elf bastard. He's yer boss, you go an' talk to "im," Drawing himself up with as much dignity as he could muster, the drunken brigand staggered away, anxious to find better company. Gord let him go. Before he'd gone adozen steps, however, Tick turned and came back.
"Wait a sec, chum! Keak rode off this mornin' with that creepy half-orc priest! Whattin hell ya sayin'?"
Trouble! Drunk as he was, the outlaw was suspicious and not about to let this statement pass as he had the rest. Gord thought fast. "Damn, Tick, yer right! That brandy is potent stuff – want another swig?"
Suspicious or not, Tick couldn't pass that up. "Okay, an' then you an' me better see Cap'n Sawtooth an' get things strai – "
Gord hit him solidly over the head with the pommel of his dagger, and the brigand collapsed without a sound. The brandy spilled out over him, and Gord let him lay where he was. Passed out in drunken stupor from all appearances, Tick would sleep for hours. Gord doubted anyone in the camp would be interested. There was already sufficient commotion to awaken the dead. Singing and shouting, arguing and fighting, and all the rest of the things typical of a disorganized collection of brigands and humanoids, met for a rollicking good time. Something was certainly wrong!
Gord approached the command tent. A motley collection of men and humanoids surrounded it at a distance of about ten paces. A bugbear challenged him in barely intelligible Common speech.
"Get yer ass outta here, man! Not even a dog passes here!"
Putting on his most ferocious scowl, Gord faced the humanoid thing, glaring a challenge up at the towering form. "Yer ass, hairy! Cap'n Sawtooth sent me with a message for Obmi, personal-like."
"Gimme the message, and I'll pass it on," the bugbear said with a truculent sneer.
"Crap too, dumb-ass. Ya think the cap'n wants a big jerk like you knowing important information for the boss?"
"Yah, ya smart-mouthed little man? Izzat so? How come he let you know it if it's so damn important?"
Gord put on an expression of mixed relief and chagrin. "Okay, big guy, so you ain't so stupid as you look… Now I know why they put you on guard duty here," he added as if amazed that he had to admit being outwitted by the giant goblin. "I guess you can keep a secret."
"Bet yer fat human ass I can," the guard snapped back.
"Well, you got it now. Here goes – only lean close so's all the camp don't hear it." The bugbear did, keeping a wary eye upon Gord as he did so.
"Cap'n Sawtooth says that Obmi should come quick. That bastard of a black panther is over by our position, but it don't know we spotted it. Sawtooth, he thinks it's waiting 'til things quiet down before it starts eatin' us again…"
"Floggin! Foogish!" the bugbear exclaimed, referring to some god the giant goblins worshiped casually and swore by often. "Ya am'l shittin' me, are you?"
"I don't want my head bashed in! Who'd kid about that sort of stuff?"
"Right, buddy. You go in and tell Lord Obmi!"
Gord demurred. "No way! You said you would if I told you the message!"
The bugbear straightened to his full seven and a quarter feet and sneered. "Tough turds, hairless. Your cap'n sent you, and I'm passin' you through the line. Tell the dwarf yourself!"
Gord stumped past without a word, making it appear that he truly believed he was going to his own execution. The bugbear gave a snarling chuckle behind him and returned to his task of standing and looking bored.
When he got to the entrance of the small tent, Gord coughed and said, "Message for Lord Obmi from Cap'n Sawtooth."
"Enter," a voice said. Gord went inside, not having to feign nervousness. There he saw Obmi, seated in a dwarf-sized chair, gnawing at a haunch of some sort of meat and drinking wine. The dwarf looked up and asked him what his message was. The voice was wrong. As a beggar, thief, and confidence man himself, Gord knew this wasn't the real Lord Obmi. It looked like the dwarf, but the voice had a slightly different timbre, and the mannerisms were wrong. He was an impostor!
Gord cleared his throat and replied, "It's the big, black leopard, Lord Obmi. Cap'n Sawtooth seen it near our position…"
The dwarf swallowed a mouthful of meat and washed it down with wine. "So? Get back to Sawtooth and tell him I said to take care of it himself. Don't bother me again!"
"Yessir! But…"
"But what?" the dwarf asked with annoyance. "I told you to get out of here!"
"Yessir, only Sawtooth wanted me to show you this ring he found when the panther was nearby – it's a great lookin' cat's-eye stone in it too," Gord concluded ingenuously, holding out his ring toward the seated dwarf.
"Hand it to me then, you churl, and clear out." As he said this, the Obmi-impostor half rose and stretched out his hand for the glittering gold ring that Gord cupped in his left palm. Gord struck then.
His needle-pointed dagger was in his right hand before the dwarf knew what was happening. Cord's arm flashed up and punched out with a force sufficient to penetrate even enchanted steel armor, for the blade had power over metal. The poniard pierced the plate protecting the dwarfs body as if it were leather. The false Obmi screamed in pain as the point bit through his shoulder and toward his heart.
"To me!" the dwarf managed to croak, loud enough to be heard by the sharp-eared bugbear guard. The giant goblin immediately rushed toward the tent entrance, calling for his fellows to follow as he did so.
Gord stabbed the impostor again as the dwarf tried to stand. Then, desperately jamming the proffered ring back on his finger, the young adventurer pulled out his sword. The hulking bugbear burst into the tent at that very moment, nearly pulling the structure down in his rush to be inside and aid his leader.
"Graargg!" The humanoid screamed his war-cry as he came. Swinging a huge morning star in the confines of the tent was a problem the bugbear hadn't considered, however. He swung the massive, spike-headed club up to strike Gord, and the sharp projections pierced the canvas and immediately became entangled in it. As the startled bugbear brought club and tent down, Gord thrust his sword and dagger both into the creature's exposed chest and belly. The folds of falling canvas blinded the giant goblin, even as he let go of its morning star and clutched at his wounds. Two more quick thrusts made certain that the creature would never recover from his condition.
Dropping to his hands and knees, Gord heaved open the small chest that served as the dwarfs table. If the Second Key was anywhere in the tent, it was in this coffer! The canvas had fallen all the way down, and the lantern that had illuminated the place had been knocked down and broken in the struggle. Flames were licking the oiled cloth now, and in a moment the whole thing would go up in a roaring blaze. Outside, several of the other guards were trying vainly to find a way inside the collapsed tent, while others of their number were shouting an alarm to the rest of the camp.