confines of the place referred to as The Enclave. The dwelling was many-storied and bartizaned, impressive on the outside and beautiful on the inside. With flowers growing amidst a befountained garden and room after room filled with the best of furnishings, the place must have cost a fortune. The dwelling belonged to San, now a master thief, once a comrade and fellow student of Gord's. Entry had been easy for one of Gord's skill, even with a half-dozen guards and various, locks and boobytraps set for the less talented. A pair of vicious mastiffs now lay sleeping at the young adventurer's feet, bellies filled with meat dusted with the soporific pollen of duskbloom. Gord was at ease in San's own chair, behind that worthy's desk, in his hidden office located in the heart of the big building. Gord waited patiently. San must come home soon, and when he did, he would come here.
The sound of voices below awakened the young man from a light doze. Footfalls sounded on a nearby staircase, and the sound of a door opening was discernible to the sharp-eared Gord. Then he heard San's voice and that of a woman — probably his wife, from what Gord could hear of their conversation. The door closed, but a faint line of light still showed on the wall where the secret door to the chamber was located. Hands behind his head, feet up, Gord waited. The light expanded to become a full rectangle as a tall mirror swung outward on its heavy, hidden-hinged frame.
'Hello, San. Nice place you have here.' Gord said dryly.
The startled thief jumped, for he had not seen that there was an unexpected visitor in the secret chamber. He nearly dropped the candlestick he was holding, but managed to recover quickly enough. 'This is an unanticipated pleasure. Gord, to say the least.' San said without any pleasure apparent in his tone. Then, more heartily, Gord's former comrade from the slums uttered, 'It really is good to see you! But what the devils are you doing sneaking into my home like this?' San sounded more puzzled than troubled.
'Don't you know?' Gord allowed the question to trail off as he stared hard at San.
The son-in-law of Guildmaster Arentol was a little younger than Gord. San was probably twenty-three or twenty-four years of age now, but he looked older. Soft living and rich food had thickened him, but he still seemed fit enough. He was larger and heavier than Gord, and if appearances alone were used as a gauge, stronger too. San's face hardened, but he didn't show any sign of hiding some guilty secret.
'Cut the crap. For old time's sake I'll forgive you for breaking into my house and this private room, but you damn well better tell me what this is all about or I'll make a point of forgetting the past. What are you doing here?'
Gord was stone-faced too, and the forcefulness of San's tone didn't move him at all. 'I said I thought you knew why I was here, old chum. Remember or forget the bygone days as you like. I want to have a little chat with you about the more recent past, shall we say.'
'All right, tough guy.' San said, without taking his eyes from Gord. 'Let's just do that.' He hooked a nearby chair with his leg and pulled it over to where he could sit to the side of the table Gord was behind.
'Cute move,' said Gord, with feigned admiration, as he shifted his booted feet so that the soles faced his unwilling host. San had to sit up straight to see the whole of Gord's face, and Gord was smiling without humor. 'I think we need to take a few minutes to talk about a recent caper.'
'Guild business is none of your affair, friend.'
'Let's dispense with party-line stuff, San, and get to the worm at the heart of this apple. Any guild activity that involves me is damn well my business!'
'I don't know any guild activity that involves you, Gord. And I'm about as close to the top as you can get,' San said in a sincere tone of voice and then added, 'Look, word spreads fast, you know? I realize you've had a hard time of it and you probably just aren't thinking straight right now. How about a drink?' he inquired with a comradely motion toward a bottle and glasses on a small stand next to Gord.
'You pour,' said the young adventurer, without a hint of friendliness. Gord's gaze stayed on San the whole time. The fellow seemed to be acting normally now, as he filled two small, red-tinted glasses and offered Gord his choice. Gord took the one nearest him, sat back again, and watched San unwinkingly.
'Gord, whatever information you're after. I can't supply it. The thieves guild has nothing whatsoever to do with your present predicament,' San said gently, then asked, 'Is there anything else? Or can I see you to the door and get to my work?' This was more of a dismissal than a query, and San's expression showed he was tired of the conversation.
Gord sat up now and placed his hands flat on San's desk. 'You better be telling the truth, my friend. If I find out that you knew about what happened, or that your precious guild was involved in it, I'll come back to see you again. I, for one, live now, not in the past. If I find that you haven't told me the truth, then when I return to see you, you'll have no future.'
'Get out, now!' San shouted, his face livid.
'See you around, then,' Gord said as he casually strolled out of the concealed chamber.
A moment later San had second thoughts about letting Gord find his own way out, and followed the young thiefs path out of the room to be sure he was really leaving the premises. The guards in other parts of the house said they had seen no one, and there wasn't a trace of Gord or his exit to be found. Cursing, San growled at his men to be more alert, made a note to get more protection the next day, and went to the suite he and his wife called their own. He said nothing about Gord's visit.
Undaunted by his lack of success with San, the young thief was already off into the night. He had formed a plan in his mind, and decided to start at square one — the Lotus House. The fellow who greeted him was unfamiliar. 'A goblet of wine would be most welcome, my good man,' he told the sallow-faced Bakluni. 'And have something on me,' he said with friendliness, passing a silver coin to him.
'A thousand thanks, master!'
When Gord sat down he felt pangs of emptiness and loss. Another dancer writhed listlessly for the amusement of the audience, her performance unlike that of his beloved Ageelia's, her looks different too, but the young adventurer seemed to hear different music and watch a different dancer.
'Your wine, master.'
'Stay a moment!' Gord urged the fellow. 'I expected to see the man named Ovzool here. I have something to give him.'
'That one? Why they ever hired so lazy and stupid a man I will never understand,' the turbaned servitor said. 'That useless lump of camel droppings left without notice, and I had to work two shifts through an entire week before another could be found to replace him!'
'But I owe Ovzool money,' Gord lied. 'Tell me how to find him, and I am sure he will be grateful.'
'That puddle of dog vomit would never show gratitude to anyone! No matter, master. I can find him and take care of your debt. Give me the sum and I'll see to it!'
As a confidence man, Gord thought to himself, this Bakluni would make a fine dishwasher, Gord laughed in his face. 'Do you take me for a fool, rear of an ass? Tell me where Ovzool is now, or I shall become angry, and you will receive no additional silver piece.'
The fellow fawned disgustingly, but he could tell Gord nothing. It seemed that no one had seen the missing waiter since he disappeared several weeks ago. Shrugging, the young thief tossed him a copper for his time and departed the Lotus House. Tomorrow he would pursue the matter further.
Daylight brought nothing more helpful than had the wasted visit to the Lotus House. Friendly banter and a few bronze coins enabled Gord to discover that one of the guards from that fateful day was at this time on duty in the Bastion.
He could discover nothing, however, about the one he saw at the gate who knew thieves' cant signs. A few more zees in the palms of the men-at-arms, and a copper common for the other guard, when Gord finally located him, were not productive. The soldier knew only what the young thief had already learned. The fellow's comrade on duty that day had vanished as far as he knew. The Medegian was, or had been before being petrified by the medusa, a very wealthy merchant. Trading in rare tomes and similar materials, he had been given a special pass by the oligarchs of Greyhawk to enable him to bring exceptional wares to them, and thus the guards were ordered to pay special attention when the Medegian entered the city. Did the guard recall anything else about the matter? No.
Now Gord was beginning to become disturbed. Ovzool's vanishing act, the missing soldier-guard who knew thieves' cant, and the ruse of an emissary seemed to add up to the conclusion that this was a long-planned plot. Someone had to know that the Medegian was due to arrive. It seemed that there were many more involved in this than the dead and missing.
