Red Mel’s fortunes took an upturn after that. Ladav Idnorsea, one of the greatest members of the Thieves’ Guild, took a liking to him and added Red Mel to his henchmen, which meant that he no longer had to maintain a string of trollops to make a living. For the next year everything went so well that the thief couldn’t believe it. Whatever Ladav Idnorsea set his hand to seemed to turn out right. Even his small portion of the take was sufficient to make Red Mel wealthy, and Mel was soon regarded as a figure to watch in the guild, one destined to rise high in the organization.
One warm night his boss took Red Mel and three others with him to work the Strip. They spotted a likely-looking prospect soon. The mark was a river-man, probably the owner of one of the small ships that carried cargo from the lake to Greyhawk and then took goods from the city on downriver to the lands below. The man was winning big, and he and the two sailors who accompanied him were drinking in proportion to the gains being made on the table. Idnorsea sauntered out, and as he went he signed for Red Mel to follow. After a little time, the thief did as his master indicated without anyone in the place noticing his movement.
“What do you think, Red?”
That was very flattering. Red Mel smiled and replied, “You always pick ’em right, boss. That riverman will be a pushover!”
“I’m not so sure of that, but he’s worth taking.” Idnorsea liked to deflate his henchmen now and then just to make sure they understood who was the top man. He was gratified to see Red Mel wilt at his words. He stared at the man a moment as if weighing his worth. “You and the others can take his two bully-boys, can’t you?”
“With one hand tied behind us,” Red Mel assured him eagerly.
“See to it, then,” the richly clad thief said, adjusting his blue velvet doublet and brushing off his sleeve where he saw a little fleck of dirt. “You get the others and wait across the street. We’ll try to get them between your group and me, so that at least one of us can take them from behind… And leave the captain for me!”
“I’m at your service as always, boss,” said Red Mel as he hurried to get back inside the gambling house and carry out Idnorsea’s instructions.
It was an easy matter to round up the other three and drift back outside. Just as ordered, Red Mel and the others loitered casually across the street from the dive, awaiting developments. Idnorsea knew his trade well. The captain would soon be too drunk to continue gambling, so the four of them would not have to wait long. In fact they didn’t.
“I’ll tap my bladder in yonder passageway,” the riverman said in a loud voice as he and his pair of sailors crossed the half-empty street and passed by Red Mel and the others. Red Mel saw Idnorsea exit the place too, and his master gave him the high sign immediately. He and the boys were to get around to the back of the building and catch the mark while he was pissing. With a quick gesture to his mates, Red Mel entered the structure, a seamy tavern with rooms above and various vices offered in its cellar. Without hindrance the four thieves passed through the barroom, the kitchen, and a storeroom. The little alley beyond was feebly lit by light from windows. The illumination was sufficient for them, however, and Red Mel led them silently and quickly around to the left where the captain and his guards would be relieving themselves.
Hilgar happened to round the corner first, and he let out a yell as the sailor waiting there let the thief have it with his knife. “At ’em!” Red Mel shouted, knowing that the boss would soon come up and take these damned rivermen from the rear. He drew a pair of daggers and suited action to command. The sailors were quicker still, however, and came out to meet the thieves before the latter could bottle them into the gangway. Hilgar managed to grab one of the guards by his leg, and that took the fellow from the fight for the moment. Big Suggill had the other sailor by the throat and was trying to hit him with his cosh, but the riverman was tough, and somehow managed to avoid the blows while slashing the thief badly.
Trant jumped in to help his wounded pal Hilgar, which left Red Mel facing the bull-like captain. “Come on, killbuck,” the riverman taunted. “Have no taste for fightin’, do yer, yer slimy barstid?” Just then Idnorsea came up and ran the dolt through with his sword.
“Great work, boss…” He was going to say more, but something stuck him from behind at that moment and sent Red Mel sprawling. The thief saw Hilgar’s dead eyes staring into his own, while Trant sat atop the sailor who had done for Hilgar, driving his knife into the riverman again and again. The sounds from behind indicated real trouble, though, for the ring of steel on steel meant that others were now involved. Red Mel staggered up, saw Idnorsea and Big Suggill engaged with three sword-wielding men, and did the only logical thing he could do. Leaving his comrades to their fate. Red Mel clapped one hand over his wound and ran off down the passageway leading back to the Strip as fast as he could go.
Two scrawny boys were heading for the passage from the other direction, but Red Mel disregarded them. “The stupid little farts will get quite a lesson there,” he was thinking to himself as he went past the pair. Just in time he noticed that one of the kids had a slender blade and was trying to stick him. Wounded or not, Red Mel was still fast. He caught the arm and almost had the offending knife free from the filthy little bastard’s grip when a bolt of excruciating pain shot through his brain. Too late the thief realized that both of the small boys had weapons, and while he was stopping one, the second had killed him.
“You hurt, San?” The boy who had first tried to stab Red Mel said he was fine. “Good! Then let’s see what this lousy thief has on him,” his friend Gord said to him. The two boys, beggar-thieves in service of the union, quickly frisked the body. Gord found the ring that the thief wore and slipped it easily from the dead man’s finger. A warm tingling shot up his arm when he held the object, but Gord said nothing. Slipping it into his shirt, Gord pointed into the alleyway, where the fight was in its last stages. “Let’s see if there’s more for us to do.”
Events had run their course by the time the lads got to the scene. The riverboat captain and his men, who were not nearly as helpless as they had led the thieves to believe, had killed all but two of their assailants-and since the boys had done for one of the others, they were congratulated and welcomed into the group.
Soon thereafter the two lads were accompanying three sell-swords and a captive thief, a master named Idnorsea, to a place where the prisoner could be secreted for transportation to Theobald’s headquarters. Not one of them was aware of where the ring had originated, how it had come into Greyhawk, left the city, and made a circuit of the Nyr Dyv before returning to the one who should have possessed it always in the first place. Even Gord regarded the thing only as a valuable trophy. It would be years before he knew differently.
Chapter 11
“That’s the lot, Tapper. How Much?”
The locksmith gazed at the array of mechanisms before him. There were a dozen locks there, all as good as new. “Gord, you are a wonder! How about taking a position as a journeyman with me?”
“Journeyman?”
“Master, then. I’m getting to a point where I’ll want to spend less time working anyway. I’ll split the profits with you if you become a master and my partner here.”