around the room, using the dweomer of the sword to see in the pitch blackness as if it were a normally lit place. The room remained pitch dark to any who did not hold the enchanted blade.

Yagbo stood in a newly revealed opening in the wall near the head of the bed. With him was another man who, if anything, was less savory than the rascally porter. Each had a cloth tied over his face and a wad of lint clasped in hand. Yagbo was unstopper-ing a flask, bent on pouring its contents into the wad of lint each held. Gord could see fumes rising as the stuff issued from the bottle. Yagbo worked with swiftness, and as soon as both balls of stuff were soaked, he and his villainous associate pitched them onto the bed where Chert's head was, and where Gord's should have been. Chert groaned softly, tossed, and then began to breathe most heavily and unnaturally.

That does for ‘em!' whispered the porter with an evil chuckle. 'Light the candle and we'll tie 'em up nice and tight for Plincourt's supper!'

Holding his breath, Gord stepped to the bed and skewered the nearest ball of lint on the point of his shortsword. He flicked it through the air with unerring aim. The wet, fuming clump of fiber took Yagbo full in the face and hung for a heartbeat before dropping. As the soggy mass slid down to gravity's will, Yagbo's eyes bulged, his hands clutched at his throat, and he wheezed forth a croaking cry of agonized defeat.

'Wazzamatter?' the other would-be killer whispered as he looked up from the sputtering stub of candle he held. 'Youse trussin' ‘em already, Yagbo?'

The needle-sharp point at his throat, pressed just hard enough to cause a bead of crimson to drip forth, answered his query. 'If you move so much as an eyelid, I’ll put this point through your neck!' Gord said. 'Now, kneel — slowly!'

The trembling scoundrel complied without a sound, crumbling to the floor, and Gord soon had him flat upon his stomach, hands folded behind his neck, chin set so that the fellow's eyes were upon him, allowing Gord to move to the bed to ascertain his friend's condition. Chert was evidently in a comatose slumber, for he made no response to a sharp pinch upon the earlobe.

'What is the effect of the drug you and Yagbo administered?' Gord demanded.

The prone man started to move as he replied, then felt the tip of Gord's blade at the base of his spine. 'It causes drugged sleep for at least an hour, maybe two,' he said in a strained whisper.

'What were you going to do after tying us?'

'Tie youse guys? Naw, we was just gonna- '

The pressure of the weapon caused him to gasp in pain, but Gord ignored that. 'If you lie to me once more, I'll sever your spine, then work on the upper part of you for good measure — but slowly! What was your plan?'

'Hang ya up fer da vampire. He'd have us dump youse down da old cistern when he'd finished wid ya. Da trunk goes to Plincourt, too.'

'Plincourt? Who is that?'

'Plincourt's da guy who runs dis place at night. He hires us to get greenies and pays us a nifty thirty nobles each to do dat.'

'Who are the friends of this Plincourt?' Gord asked, leaning a little on his sword as he said it.

'Ow! Easy. easy. I'm tellin youse the truth! Plincourt hangs 'round wid joe and a se'edy trollop called Fritzie — dat's about it.'

'Joe? is that the merchant?' Gord saw the man nod vigorously, so he went on. 'What about the owner of this place? is he in on the scam?'

'Shaz, no! if Huskons knew what was goin’ on, he'd have all of our arses!'

'So it shall be,' Gord murmured softly as he jammed the still damp wad of lint under the prone man's nose. A surprised gasp, a cough, and the fellow was out. Gord proceeded to tear the linen from the bed into long strips with which he bound both criminals, making the ties as tight and uncomfortable as possible. Taking water from the ewer on the stand, the young thief then splashed it generously on Chert's face. But the cold liquid had no effect on the slumbering barbarian. Nor did pinching, poking, slapping or punching. 'Guess I'm just going to have to tend to matters myself,' Gord grumbled.

It took some doing, but the slender rogue finally managed to drag the sleeping killers into the secret passage. The candle showed the space to be about three feet wide and several yards long. At its end was a narrow stone stair that descended into a tight spiral. Being quiet but none too gentle, the adventurer managed to get his burdens to the bottom of the flight without undue noise. Gord found that he and his sleeping nuisances were in the cellar of the hostel. After very little exploration he entered an ordinary storeroom through the hinged back of an old cupboard.

There is where they dispose of the corpses,' Gord said to himself upon spotting a large, open shaft in the center of the chamber. The cover had been moved aside in anticipation of the duo's demise. Gord shuddered. He dragged the bodies of his would-be assassins through the deceptive cupboard door and over to the edge of the cistern. 'Now isn't this convenient?' he asked his sleeping prisoners. 'Youse guys were considerate enough to leave me some rope with which to hang you.' And with that the two unconscious thugs were trussed and suspended over the gaping cistern. 'Have a nice sleep, guys, because you're going to wake up to a hell of a nightmare!' Gord chuckled and gave the hanging bodies a shove.

By the time the young thief returned to the room he shared with his friend, the groggy hillman was just beginning to come around. 'One more time,' Gord said as he tossed more water on the surprised fellow's head.

'What the hell?' Chert jumped to his feet but quickly fell back on the bed. 'Who's been messing with my brain?' he asked, holding his head in both hands. His friend resisted the urge to reply sarcastically and, instead, briefly related the past hour's events. Although he was still somewhat lightheaded from the drug, the hillman readily agreed with Gord's suggestion that the two immediately pay Plincourt a visit.

They crept up the main stairs and cautiously entered a room that was obviously the kitchen. It was quiet and deserted, although a lantern burned, indicating that someone was probably nearby. Taking the closest exit, Gord led the way to a refectory with two passages leading from it. This time the adventurers opted for the narrower way. In a minute they had stolen up to a small room that was the hostel's office. Plincourt was there, hunched over a small table reading a scroll by candlelight. He spoke without looking up. 'Come in, Yagbo, and bring the trunk, but be forewarned. If you and Lou have rifled it I will be very angry.'

Without hesitation. Gord sprang into the room, swinging his shortsword so as to strike the long head of the rail-like Plincourt with its flat side, stunning him. As fast as he was, Gord missed the blow, for somehow Plincourt had sensed the attack. He ducked, turned, and leaped erect in one smooth motion.

'Thunderation!' Chert exclaimed, now fully conscious and wishing he wasn't. Following his friend's lead, the brawny barbarian had also entered the office ready to use dagger, pommel and fist to finish the work that Gord initiated. What he saw made him tear free his axe with haste, giving the sign to ward off the evil eye as he did so.

Plincourt was facing his attackers. 'Welcome! I am feeling hungry and regretting the spilling of blood. . uselessly.' he sneered, glaring at the two young adventurers with his burning red eyes and licking his fangs all the while.

'Vampire!' Gord hissed.

'No shit.' Chert, said, hefting his axe and swinging it a little so that it emitted a reassuring hum.

Plincourt chuckled softly at the reaction he had evoked in the pair. 'Let us chat a while, friends, rather than use ugly aggression. I am willing to forgive and forget, so let us be comrades,' he said softly, gazing at first Gord, then Chert.

'Beware his eyes!' Chert called to his friend.

Gord had already acted, however, even as the barbarian spoke. He took out the symbol of Fharlanghn given to him by his druid friend, Curley Greenleaf, and held it before his eyes.

'Put that filthy thing away!' Plincourt demanded as his gaze swept from the bigger man back to Gord once again.

'This?' Gord asked ingenuoiisly, thrusting the symbol toward the vampire as he spoke.

Plincourt recoiled, clawing at the holy disc that Gord held in both hands. Thus distracted, the vampire failed to notice the steely blur of Chert's great axe as it sang toward him. Brool bit deep into the undead monster's chest, causing the vampire to stagger and throwing him back against the wall.

'And this!' Gord shouted as he thrust his own weapon full into Pllncourt's skinny body.

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