by name, and The Sword of Nyrond — for generations!'
'The ruby set there in its stead appears far more handsome.' the big barbarian ventured.
This bauble? Bah! it is yours,' the monarch said. He pried it from where it had been loosely placed and tossed the glittering sphere toward the astonished adventurers. 'A token of Our pleasure at having so nicely accomplished the test'
Gord restrained an impulsive move to grab the stone before the slow-moving Chert could catch it. As the blood-red gem disappeared into the huge hill-man's girdle, the young thief said. Your majesty's generosity is as expansive as his realm, but we did but little to deserve such honor.'
'Little,' King Archbold muttered, fitting the dull piece of mottled black and white rock into the pommel of the great sword. 'Little? Why, for years and years the kings of Nyrond have been trying to get this stone back. Quodllde's grandmother took it from Dunstan the Second when he spurned her as queen, and it's been held in Grimalkin ever since — those miserable witches have extraordinarily long lives, you know.'
'The old battleaxe just handed it over when Gord asked! ' Chert said incredulously.
'Well,' the thief added. 'I did make a promise or two — ones I have no intention of keeping.'
'That is your affair!' interjected the tall, gaunt royal mage as he stepped forth and made several mystic passes in the air. 'As far as the pommelstone is concerned, my liege, it is fairly dweomered and melds as one with the blade. Nyrond is whole, and your majesty now wields power with wisdom.'
Gord tried to find an opportunity to request that he and his companion be given permission to leave Rel Mord immediately, but King Archbold held up his hand just as Gord opened his mouth.
'You are dismissed. Be in attendance at the High Revel three days hence, where We will also bestow royal thanks to confirm the honors given by Our subject. Lord Fizziak.' With that, the pair of guards swung the doors of the small audience chamber wide, and the two young adventurers bowed and backed out of the room.
'Now what, my clever friend?' Chert demanded.
'What else save my original plan, which you did not like?' asked his friend sweetly but with a hint of superiority.
Hie brawny hillman stared hard at Gord for a long moment, then nodded once in agreement. 'As you wish.' And so saying. Chert lashed out a beefy fist so fast that even the nimble young thief was unable to dodge its force. Whack! The sound caused guards to start and stare, while a trio of passersby uttered oaths of surprise.
Gord rolled and made his collision with the corridor wall sound far worse than it was. Then, as the big barbarian advanced as if to finish the affair, Gord sprang erect with dagger in hand. 'That was your death warrant, churl,' he said, and as he hissed the threat, the young adventurer crouched menacingly, his long dagger poised to stab or disembowel.
The altercation was immediately broken up by alert guards in great number. Gord demanded satisfaction for the insult, and Chert likewise claimed the right to restoration of his honor.
'There shall be no duel, nor any personal combat of honor, fought without royal leave, and His August Supremacy is seldom inclined to grant such on short notice,' a richly robed official drawled.
'Now what the hells do we do?' the barbarian stooped and whispered into Gord's ear.
'No plotting to avoid the Royal Strictures!' The official was stern now. 'Guards, see that these two 'guests' are confined in separate chambers until further notice — and watch them constantly, or your heads are forfeit!'
Eventually it was King Archbold himself who solved their dilemma. The monarch brought the two miscreants into his presence again. Informants had delved into the matter, and the king knew all — even the nature of Gord's and Chert's recent activities in Greyhawk and elsewhere.
'It seems, gentlemen,' King Archbold said with a stern countenance, 'that you have brought yourselves to a pass that bodes nothing good for you — or My Royal Court.'
Chert stood looking at the polished marble floor at his feet, mumbling half-articulate apologies. Gord was also taken aback and could think of nothing to say. The king sat regally and stared, visage set, eyes unforgiving. This silence on Archbold's part finally prompted the young thief.
'Your August Supremacy is renowned as a fair and just king — some say the most righteous in the Flanaess. I beg your permission to state our case.'
'Speak.'
Gord told the Nyrondel monarch the gist of things, leaving out whatever he could that was incriminating, ending the monologue with a simple request. 'All we seek to do, August Supremacy, is to quietly leave Rel Mord prior to the coming nuptials and return to our home in Greyhawk.'
'This is a matter of no difficulty, but what shall we do to right the things you two have discommoded? That is another matter. Quodilde might prove difficult. . ' Archbold said reflectively.
'Beg pardon, your lordship, but she might prove even more difficult if we stay, for I have no intention in the hells of fulfilling that crone's desires!'
All was quiet for a while until, just as the two really began to lose heart, the king spoke again in a conspiratorial tone.
'Our best interests and obligations are far-reaching, and it just might be that I have thought of a means that will relieve you of your burdens and Nyrond of its own. Attend most carefully, and be prepared to take yet more solemn vows and oaths if this is agreed to by you both.'
No more than an hour later, the two adventurers were within sight of the sprawling, clifllike walls of Greyhawk.
'Magical transport has its advantages.' Gord said with delight. 'If I had such power I could pillage a treasure from distant jakif and be home in the wink of a cat's eye!'
The gigantic hillman spat disgustedly. 'Riding a good horse, or even going on shanks' mare,' he said, shaking one of his massive legs for emphasis, 'is far better than such reeky and dangerous means of travel. I hate this spell-working worse than I hate city-bred fops!'
'Let us use our feet now, and if we hie with vigor, we'll be home in an hour or two.'
'With a burden to carry, once we arrive, too,' Chert grumbled as he strode along. 'One quest after another — I like not this city life!'
'Burden? Quest? Ha, my burly barbarian complainer, no problem at all! We have the exciting prospect of a mission, that's all!'
'I'd prefer the prospect of revelry and sloth,' the hillman intoned glumly.
Gord laughed. 'You have had enough of revels for some time. Chert! Let's plan for some action as we walk — it's more funds we need, not funning with bawds! Let me see that ruby. …'
At that the barbarian had to shake his head sadly. Their purses were indeed nearly as flat as the mud-banks of the Selintan River. He dug out the gem and handed it to his comrade. The stone was flawed, of course.
Gord saw the barbarian ruefully feeling his broad girdle. 'It is always a matter of quickly gained, speedily lost when it comes to riches, hillman. Now this new undertaking that Archbold has proposed for us might prove to bring us sums so vast that we can..'
Chert had his head cocked attentively as he and the young thief trudged along the Hillway Road toward the city. Who, watching and overhearing the pair, could doubt that the hope bound in the breast of youth was unquenchable and bright? Fortunately, no such eavesdroppers existed, for the discussion involved most nefarious activities.
The Five Dragon Bowl
'Diggwell Biffson is the name. Do call me Biff, though. If you please. Your Faithfulness.'
'Diggwell? Yes, I recall. That is a fine, upstanding name amongst halflings of the Welkwood region, unless I am mistaken. …'
'No. no. You are quite correct,' the gray-clad halfling assured him. 'I hail from that very place.'
'Why go by so odd a name as Biff then, my good halfling?' the cleric asked earnestly. 'You should proudly bear the name of your famous ancestors.'-
The small fellow squirmed at that, trying to think of how he could get this man off the subject. 'To be blunt
