Standing slightly behind this clearly disapproving character was a stone golem, a more classic example of which Pryce could hardly imagine. Nine and a half feet tall, at least two thousand pounds, and chiseled to look like a cross between a gigantic headstone and a huge tree trunk, it loomed menacingly between the clerk and the gate.
Its rock eyes were closed, its nose flat and wide, and its long lips gave an impression of being slightly irked. Its body had only the merest suggestion of legs, giving Pryce the distinct feeling that it could not be tipped or knocked over. The most impressive and noticeable aspect of the thing, however, was its hands. They were huge and flat, seemingly made to create thunder if the creature ever applauded. Covington could imagine a Lallor invader getting his head turned to flatbread by a single resounding clap. The monstrous golem had the effect it was no doubt created for: to discourage anyone except the most foolhardy or suicidal from making a run for the freedom and prosperity that Lallor promised.
Pryce’s previous bravado disappeared like a popping soap bubble. He gritted his teeth in concern and drew in a long breath. Then he became aware of the admissions clerk’s questions to the only person who remained between Pryce and the head of the line.
“Race?” The gatekeeper’s voice was similar to his face: heavy, thick, and deep.
“Human,” the small, bent, thin person in front of Pryce said quickly and quietly, manhandling his hat nervously.
The clerk suddenly went on quickly, as if the nervous man hadn’t spoken. “A, dwarf; B, elf; C, gnome; D, half-elf; E, halfling; F, human; G, other.”
“Uh, that would be F, sir. Yes, definitely F.”
The clerk ignored the dithering. He seemed only to hear the letter “F” and duly marked it down with a quill pen. Then he continued the interrogation, his voice again somber and slow. “Class?”
The man waited for the clerk to continue, but when he didn’t, the befuddled person felt compelled to say, “Some schooling, sir…”
“A, bard; B, priest; C, vagabond; D, warrior; E, wizard; F, other.”
“Oh! Uh… C, I suppose… No, A! Yes, that’s right, A” The clerk stopped dead, then looked up slowly, ominously. “Well, which is it? A or C?”
The skinny man’s eyes flicked nervously to the expressionless, motionless golem. “I have traveled many miles, sir,” he said with a wan smile. “I wish to be an entertainer for the good people within the city.”
The clerk stared at him silently. Pryce found himself holding his breath, but suddenly the silence was broken as the clerk sonorously said “C,” marked it down, then continued quickly. “Are you, or have you ever known, a thief?”
The nervous man chirped, “No, sir!”
“Do you possess skills in pickpocketing, lock opening, trap removal, camouflage, wall climbing, shadow hiding, or silent movement?” Pryce inwardly winced at mention of the second item, plus the last three. He began to work his mouth nervously, stretching his lips across his teeth, in preparation for the coming interview. This was not going to be easy… not with that big eye above them, watching for any sign of discomfort, and the golem below, waiting to act as official bouncer.
“No, sir, I assure you,” said the little man earnestly. “I only want to entertain, and I hope to find favor with the good people of Lallor.”
“How long do you intend to audition?” the clerk intoned, looking up from his parchment.
At this question, the man started to relax. “I think I would need only a fortnight permit, sir. By then I’m sure I could show my worth.”
“Fine,” said the clerk brusquely, seemingly no longer concerned with the man. He was now paying attention only to his parchment, where he was rapidly writing something, the quill pen jiggling busily. But just as the little man finally felt comfortable enough to breathe a sigh of relief and release a broad smile, the clerk looked up again suddenly and said, ‘Two men play five games of chance. Each man wins the same number of games, and there are no ties. How can this be?”
“Whawhat?” the surprised little man stammered.
‘Two men. Five games. Each wins. No ties. How?”
“I… but… how does this
“Come, come, sir,” the gatekeeper burbled reasonably. “Surely you didn’t think that desire was enough to secure entry to Lallor.
We are an exclusive community, sir. We must know that those who seek to entertainespecially those who seek to entertain have their wits about them. Now, come along, please hurry. How can two men play five games with no ties and both win?”
“I’m sorry.” The little man was first confused, then desperate, then crestfallen. “II”
Pryce put a hand on his shoulder. “They weren’t playing each other,” he whispered.
“What?”
“The two men weren’t playing each other,” he repeated. “That’s the only way they could both win an equal number of games.”
Comprehension spread across the little man’s face. The reaction of the clerk, however, was not so beneficent. He struggled to his feet, both fists shaking on the floating marble slab. “I beg your pardon, sir!” he said angrily. “How dare you?”
Pryce knew he had to think and talk even faster now. If that golem was psychically attuned to the clerk’s emotions, his head was applesauce. There was only one thing to do: Distract attention from himself.
“I apologize, but it is imperative I speak to someone in authority. It is about my friend. Gamor Turkal____________________ ” To his amazement,
Pryce watched the clerk’s wrathful expression melt, then, even more incredibly, rise like a basset hound being offered prime steak. The clerk then repeated his previous admonition, but the tone this time was one of apology.
“Sir… I beg your pardon!”
“Yes, yes,” Pryce said humbly. “But my friend Gamor…” He started to point back down the road.
“Of course, sir!” the clerk interrupted, hurrying around the floating marble slab. “Gamor Turkal told us of your coming. We have been waiting for you!”
‘You have?”
“Of course,” the clerk said enthusiastically, raising an arm to put over Pryce’s shoulders, then thinking better of it. “We’ve been awaiting your arrival for some time.”
Pryce blinked. His mind had been ready for a lot of things, but not this. “Really? Well, the storm slowed me down a bit, and then there were the dangers of the pass____________________ ”
“Oh, we knew you would make quick work of them,” the clerk said dismissively. “But come, come. You must be hungry and thirsty after your journey.” Only then did the clerk feel secure enough to take Pryce by the shoulders and lead him toward the open gate.
“Butbut,” Pryce stammered, pointing back at the line of staring pilgrims, “shouldn’t I take the test?”
“Oh, pshaw,” the clerk said. “This test isn’t for you! Only you would think of having the humility to stand in line and take the entrance exam. Your kindness and consideration have not been exaggerated!” He drew Pryce under the gate’s eye, which followed his every move. Covington stared back at the thing, concerned that it might be looking down into his very soul.
“What a beautiful shade of blue,” he said with a toothy but mirthless grin, watching it. “No, green. Now brown!”
The clerk actually chuckled, his many sagging facial parts jiggling like coin sacks. “The Eye of the Inquisitrix,” he said cheerily. “No one enters, of course, without being recorded. Not even you!”
“Sound thinking,” Pryce said, managing to wrest his own eyes away from the ominous cyclopic orb above him. “Very wise.” Then he was inside the gate.
“Sir,” the clerk said demurely, “I can’t begin to tell you what an honor it is that I should be the one to welcome you to our humble city. And that I, Matthaunin Witterstaet, should be allowed to… well, sir, I don’t want to embarrass you, but I shall be telling my nieces and nephews that these hands actually touched…!” The old fellow couldn’t go on, which was just as well, because Pryce wasn’t listening to him. Instead, he was marveling at the exclusive “Jewel of Halruaa.” Whatever might happen to him from that moment on, he would never forget his first look at Lallor.