"What are you talking about? I had everything under control. Summer! Sunray was about to give me-"
"Sunray was about to give you the point of his terrible blade — right in the intestines!" Summer interrupted.
"Shit! I had that blade pinned; Sunray couldn't have struck, could he?"
"He could have, and would have. Gord. Why are you being so difficult? I just saved your life!"
Summer looked like she was about to cry. . again. "She seems to do that real well." Gord mused suspiciously to himself. Aloud he said. "How did you find me?"
"I followed you, of course," she said, now sporting a warm smile. "I didn't think you should take the risk alone. Your scaling of the wall took me by surprise, though. You can climb, Gord! Anyway, I wasn't magically prepared to follow, so I fretted and waited below, wondering what was happening. Suddenly, two shrieking trollops flew out the door I was near. They left it open, so I simply went inside and climbed the stairs until I found you."
Gord nodded. "Sounds sensible." He decided to change the subject "Let's search this place as quickly as we can. Summer, and then we'll get out of here and back to where I can do some thinking."
Half an hour later the two were heading back into the Old City. Summer said she had to find a friend in the Foreign Quarter, someone who had books of magic spells, for hers had been left behind in the inn of the Seven Quills. Gord didn't argue. He had things of his own to take care of, and time was running out. Half of his time was gone, and he seemed no closer to learning the truth than he was before. He had obviously lied to Sunray about what he knew. And their search of Raynald's apartment had turned up a blank — almost.
"I'll see you at dusk at your safe place, Gord." Gord looked Summer in the eyes. "Be careful." He followed her with his eyes until she was out of sight. Then he turned and quickly made his way to the cellar hideout. Changing into garb not typical of the attire he usually wore, and selecting false papers, the young thief headed for the eastern gate of Old City. Sleep would have to wait. Perhaps he’d sleep permanently otherwise.
Passing out the tall portal, Gord crossed the Long Span that bridged the western channel of the Gray Run to form the upper of the two links to the Bastion. Rather than continuing on along High Road, he turned into the courtyard that served the garrison of the huge fortress. The island was covered with the mighty stoneworks and structures that protected the city from the east and housed half of its regular soldiery. Swarms of peddlers, traders, and suppliers of goods and services came daily to the Bastion. Gord was easily lost in this throng. Merging with the press, he was soon deep inside the fortress. It was as simple for him to emerge later and return the way he had come.
After getting something to eat at a run-down tavern in the Labor District, Gord returned again to his hideout. After taking his usual precautions, the young adventurer stripped, washed himself, and settled down to catch an hour or two of sleep. He had to be up and ready when darkness fell. Until twilight he could rest.
"How can you sleep?"
"Quite well when I don't have you yelling at me!" Gord answered in a laconic voice, remaining prone, eyes closed.
Summer came over and sat down on the bed. "Here I’ve been working hard to gain magical powers to help you, and all the while you do nothing but sleep! I can't believe it!"
Gord sat up and patted her leg. "One must get a little rest now and then. I'd hoped to be able to come up with something. I'm sure that somewhere in the back of my mind I have a key which could unlock this mystery. No matter how I try it eludes me. I fell asleep trying…"
"Do you have a plan for this evening?" Summer asked with a worried expression.
Gord pressed his lips together in a thin line, and his brow furrowed in thought for a moment. "Yes and no. Sunray, or Raynald as he called himself these days, said he was an assassin. I can only presume that he meant he was a guild member. Before I was convinced that the Thieves Guild was behind the whole thing, but now I realize I might have been trying to slit the wrong purse. What I aim to do is find out if I’m right by Founding up a few of the assassins I know and questioning them — painfully if necessary."
"And then?"
"If I draw a blank there, too, I think I’ll simply try to get out of Greyhawk before my time is tip. There is a connection, though. Raynald was scared, begging. He didn't lie when he told me that he knew everything about the scam run on me and the whole series of murders. There are powers and planes involved — I know that!"
Summer seemed taken aback at the last assertion. "What do you mean? Is this some struggle for supremacy between thieves and assassins? I think it so too. Gord, but neither side would dare invoke any of the lower planes for such a contest. That would surely alert the oligarchs and bring ruin upon the contending parties."
"What makes you think this is so petty a quarrel? If great clerics of evil are involved — those of Asmodeus, for example — and are leagued with some powerful organization outside Greyhawk, then the guilds or guild involved are only instruments in some larger scheme."
"That sounds pretty far-fetched. Six murders and a deception worked on a rogue thief. You are building castles of sand to stave off an invasion of wind!"
"I saw the ruby mark of Asmodeus on Raynald's breast"
"So he worshipped the arch-fiend? Many of his sort do," the woman said with flat practicality. You should be seeking a murderer, not looking for convoluted machinations of monumental proportions. Your life is at stake, Gord!"
The young thief looked unconvinced. "If I am right, the whole city — and more — is at stake here. Perhaps I am an addlepated fool, but I must follow my hunch."
"All right," Summer said with resignation. "How am I to help?"
"Raynald was near the top in the organization of assassins. How else would he have had access to the information he spoke of?"
"He could have been lying, you know," Summer offered softly.
"I don't think so. Anyway, there are thieves helping, but I am sure that the whole show is being run by the guildmaster of assassins under the direction of the chief priest of the cult of Asmodeus." Summer gave a sign to ward off diabolical attention. Gord ignored the implication and went on. "If my inquiries prove fruitless, and I have to get clear of here, I’ll leave a complete rundown on what I've learned. . and what I suspect. The Praefecture will keep that sort of bone in its teeth, and one way or another the truth will come out then!"
"You still haven't told me what to do to help you."
Gord took her slender hands in his, pressed them together, and then kissed her gently. "Summer, I want you taking no more risks than are necessary. As a magus you are adept at scribery. Stay here and write a full report of what has occurred so far, including what I suspect. We'll need such a document right or wrong. Pen, ink, and parchment are in that drawer," Gord added, pointing to a compartment in an old traveling desk standing nearby. Summer seemed unconvinced. "But- "
"No buts! If I succeed in discovering the truth, I'll come back to get you and the written report. If I fail to return by the third hour after dawn, then you must see the papers get to Magistrate Vatman. I'll have sent another message too … If I’m able. . before disappearing."
"If you do flee, Gord. where can I meet you? I can't bear the thought of never seeing you again!"
"I’ve thought of that too, but don't worry. If I am alive, I'll be at a place called the inn of the Brothers of One and a Score, a small drinking house just west of the village of Gawkes Mere. Ask for a man known as Hop the Savant. He'll lead you to where I hide. Come at once though. Summer, for I’ll not linger so near Greyhawk for more than one or two days."
As the blonde spell-worker sat down with pen and parchment, Gord slung his sword, donned his cape of dark blue velvet, and departed.