Suddenly the vivid images faded into shadows, and the scene vanished. “What’s this?” Gellor gasped.
The three figures rose jerkily, crying out together.
Gellor was shocked. “Have I done something?”
“No, faithful agent, it is not you who has caused this distress,” one of the three said as all of them sat down again. The one-eyed man was surprised to note it was the leftmost figure, not the central one, who had spoken.
“It is some agency, a force to be reckoned with, which so discommoded us,” the rightmost of the trio continued to explain.
“Yet we suffered no real harm,” the central figure noted. “It was a demand for personal privacy, perhaps, but not an attack. The youth himself could never do such a thing, so we must conclude that he has other… friends.”
Gellor wanted more of an explanation, but did not press for it. He supposed that more than privacy could be involved, much more, and the force displayed could be either good or ill. Then he was drawn from his introspection by a question from the central figure. What did Gellor intend to do?
“Alert the local lord to the fact that there are bandits in his hunting preserve,” the one-eyed man replied. “The danger to Gord there is mortal unless some agency intervenes, I think,” he explained, recalling what he had seen. “That change leaves but a single likely course open, so thereafter I’m off for the realms of brigandry. I’ll position myself so as to encounter Gord there and keep my most watchful eye on him.”
Did a slight rocking on the part of the Enlightened Ones indicate they appreciated his little joke? After a couple of moments, the central figure spoke again.
“We will not scry any more now, nor will we employ any agent whose power is such as to attract notice. A black wind has just swept through the aether-it came from the void and sends eddies even here. Go swiftly. Lord Gellor. We will contact you again as needed.”
“Thank you, Enlightened Ones. I will serve as instructed and await further instructions as I proceed,” the one-eyed man said with a slight bow. Then Gellor turned and strode from the chamber and away into the night. He didn’t bother to look behind, for he knew that the place he had been in was no longer there. That was the way of the Enlightened Ones.
He had much to do, many affairs to attend to in a short time. Several crowned heads employed him as an agent, and he served them well and faithfully, to the limit prescribed by his greater duty to the Balance. That gave him perfect cover, of course. When Gellor departed at first light on the morrow it would be on business of state. Elsewhere Gellor would be recognized too, and accepted as a member in good standing of groups and organizations of less savory sort. Being a spy and agent was like that, and in truth the one-eyed man enjoyed his duty.
Several weeks later, in a dirty little town in the heart of the Bandit Kingdoms, Gellor finally met Gord. It was the beginning of a long and adventure-filled friendship.
“I never thought to see you here!”
The exclamation of the young thief was filled with joy, for before him stood his friend and sometimes mentor, Gellor. “How did you find me here? No, never mind that. Come In! You can tell me everything after you’ve had a chance to sit comfortably.”
The one-eyed man smiled and clasped Gord’s arm in greeting. “It is good to meet again, eh?” As his young host led the way, he entered the suite of rooms and took a seat on a divan while Gord busied himself getting wine and goblets. The place was well and comfortably furnished but showed no trace of riches. On the contrary, it showed ample means of only average sort. The young fellow was no fool. Gellor knew that Gord could well have taken a villa and filled it with lavish trappings, lived luxuriously, and reveled. But that would have attracted attention and brought certain downfall.
“What are you doing here in Greyhawk? I thought you’d be roaming the east, doing important things at the behest of dukes and kings!”
His face betraying nothing, Gellor replied, “Perhaps I’m doing just that, Master Gord… Or perhaps there are greater lords than that directing me.”
“You are here on some affair of state or another, then?”
“Let’s just say I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d pay my respects to an old friend,” Gellor said with a warm smile. Before Gord could ask more questions, his comrade hastened on. “Since you left the east, things there have settled down into a boring state of mundane sort. During such a lull I deemed it possible to enjoy a bit of holiday, so here I am in Greyhawk.”
“I don’t believe a word of that,” Gord countered, pouring them both brimming goblets of wine. He handed one to Gellor and after both men had drunk, the young man went on. “Has it to do with the demon we slew? The evil relic called the Middle Key? Some war about to break out hereabouts? Come on, you one-eyed fox, tell me!”
“No, and yes. Possibly, and absolutely not… I am not being frivolous, Gord. Who of us can say? Neither you nor I are capable of ordering events or determining fate.” Gellor looked at his young friend, and it was evident from the expression on his face that the man’s explanation would never do. Gellor sighed and took another drink of wine. It was excellent stuff, a prime vintage of golden Keoish, and he savored it, allowing it to lave his tongue, roll on his palate, and slowly make its way on down so as to enable him to enjoy the full aftertaste as well.
Appreciating his guest’s savoring of the refreshment, Gord remained silent while Gellor relaxed and enjoyed, but he never took his eyes from the man. He was clearly waiting for more of an explanation, and would not waver until he got it, and Gellor was aware of both of those facts.
“All right, Gord, I shall be a little more specific-otherwise, I’ll never have sufficient peace to properly quaff the remainder of this superb wine you’ve so foolishly provided to me.”
Taking the hint, Gord put bottle to glass and filled Gellor’s goblet again. “How long has it been since you and I met?”
“More than a year-two, near enough. From that question, I take it you have needed no special amusements to pass the time here in Greyhawk…”
“That’s so, although I do seek some diversion now and again. Chert-surely you remember him?-went off to find more action and adventure many months ago, though it seems but yesterday. I’ve kept occupied, shall we say, here and about, making a modest living this way and that. But the sameness cloys, Gellor. Have you come with some momentous quest for me?” When the one-eyed man shrugged and shook his head in tentative fashion, Gord’s interest was even more piqued, if that was possible.
“Well, don’t just sit there supping on my wine and being as silent as a stone! You’ll not lure me into more discussion of my own affairs until you recount your own.”
“The druid Greenleaf is more concerned with the minions of the Abyss and malign relics of power than I am. Save your questions for that one,” Gellor said with a smile. He knew that he wasn’t fooling Gord in the least with his disclaimer, but he wished to direct the conversation to other matters. “Do you think often of your heritage?” he asked after a slight pause.
The young man was serious now. “Too frequently, old friend. It causes me pain, so I gain surcease through action and hazard. There is no one to answer my queries. It is a riddle with no answer. Yet, I find myself going over the matter again and again…” Gord’s voice trailed off, his gaze resting on the small box that, as far as he knew, was the only possible clue he had to his past, his parents, his heritage.
“That is one of the reasons why I am come here, Gord. Perhaps there is someone, something, to provide at least a partial answer to your questions.” Gord opened his mouth at that, but Gellor cut him off before he could speak. “No, wait, don’t interrupt me now. You’ve been at me as a mosquito on fair flesh, and now I’ll speak-only do open another bottle of that wonderful vintage!” Gord complied readily, and the one-eyed man returned to his tale.
“It is a fact, Gord, although one unknown to you until this very minute, I presume, that you have been the subject of some considerable attention. Greater ones than you and I have watched and wondered. Imagine a game of Archchess…” He paused to look at the young man, and Gord nodded. He was an avid gamester, and he knew the sort of contest Gellor was using for his analogy. “Think of it as a three-sided competition, though, and not two or four. Consider also that the pieces and pawns are sometimes of unknown color and shape.”
“You infer that the players do not always recognize the allegiance and powers of the men on their game board?”
“Exactly! And it would be appropriate to liken you to such a man on the field of play. What is the blazon on your coat? What rank do you hide?”
Gord waved his hand in denigration. “I am a passably good thief and swordsman. A boon companion, I trust, and a willing adventurer after prizes or against dark foes, but a playing piece in the big game? No, not I-and even were that so, I would be a pawn of lowest station at best!”
“Perhaps that is so, perhaps not,” Gellor countered. “Yet you are-or were, anyway-observed by malign ones as well as those of other stances. I think that you alone can determine whether or not you are in play, and if so whether as a pawn or a greater piece. That, my friend, is tied to your past, I think.”
“You speak in riddles more abstruse than that which is bound up in my own origin, Gellor,” Gord shot back with agitation, rising to his feet. “I can answer your riddle as soon as I find a solution to my own, but I cannot gain even a hint of the latter, so the former shall forever remain unfathomable!”
The one-eyed man granted that with a small nod, but waved Gord back to his seat and called for calmness. “You have done deeds of derring-do, rescued ladies, fought battles large and small, and undertaken many a perilous venture without flinching. Your skills have grown, and you now bear both great magical accoutrements and a seemingly charmed life. Think you that there are many such as you? Do you truly believe that the amulets and weapons and the like which you so blithely accept as part of your existence are commonly held by mortal men? And as to your luck, what can be said? There has been some aid, granted, but how much? How many times would an end have come to other men, ones not so endowed, who were in your place?”
“Hmm… There is possibly something in your words,” Gord allowed. “Pray go on, and let me think on this matter as you speak.”
“Very generous, your grand grace,” Gellor replied with heavy sarcasm. He was not offended, simply getting in a small jibe as is often customary between comrades. “I am a man in that game, as well you know, as is Greenleaf. We joined it because of instruction, but both of us remain in it because of choice. There is something in you, Gord, which gives us hope. Perhaps one day you will find some clue to unlock the mystery of your past, to discover the significance of that ancient coffer and its unimpressive contents. I know not.
“What I do know, though, is that wherever you go, you leave in your wake turmoil and change. The machinations of nobles are foundered by your presence, wars are won, great evil sent howling back to the lower planes, and Information suddenly surfaces that is vital to all. Don’t you find that passing strange?”
“I hadn’t thought on it.”
“No, you’ve been too busy pursuing wenches, playing boyish pranks, pilfering jewels of incredible worth, and playing at being a mysterious nemesis here in this city! Don’t mistake my words-I am not faulting you. You have done all these things from necessity and it was most natural, all things considered. My question is. Will you now turn your talents to a more meaningful end?”
That gave him pause. In truth, Gord had again become jaded with life as a rogue in the city; he was rather bored with playing at being the cat burglar, the rake, the carefree wanderer. Even though he could not determine the origin of his life, he did have a growing desire to make it a meaningful one nevertheless. Simply being a thief of utmost skill wasn’t the answer, as far as the young man was concerned. He had merely been doing something at which he excelled until something better was presented. He said that to Gellor, and the man reacted in a surprising way.
“Presented? You say that seriously? Do you expect fate to come ambling along and proffer something better to you on a silken cushion?! I am speechless! Perhaps I overestimated you. As an urchin you didn’t await anything-you seized opportunities with talons of wisdom far beyond your circumstances. At every turn you acted to better your position, gain, and grow. Now, as youth passes into full-blown manhood, at the very threshold of your prime, you tell me you are content to dally while you await a finer moment?”
“Well… that isn’t put exactly right,” Gord said somewhat defensively. “I am ready now to answer your call.”
“Ready to answer, but not going forth to seek the foe. It is as I said,” Gellor retorted. “Only you can determine your purpose and find meaning. Use your talents to a better purpose, I say!”
“You say much, but still too little! Just what higher goal do you direct me toward, sage?”
Gellor sat back, harrumphing. He had gotten so caught up in his lecture, as a father might scold an errant son, that he had gone too far. “Well, ahh, yes, yes indeed. It is time I got to that. I am not going to offer firm direction, of course. That would pressure, suggest far more wisdom than I possess. Still, I can offer you at least an inkling, and it should suit your own desires, too.”
“Well?” Gord’s tone was rather cold, his expression distant.
“It seems that you are not the only one unsure of who and what you are, my friend. As I have inferred, I believe that you are on the field of play, and eventually the attention of the dark players will rest full upon you. If we-and you-gain knowledge first, then you have every opportunity of not merely avoiding being en prise, but being able to move to oppose evil. To do so, you must know yourself. That might or might not mean learning of your infancy, your parents, and all. Whether or not you find out these things, knowing yourself is a worthy aspiration…”
“You avoid the issue, beg the question, and skirt the point,” Gord said as if voicing a rejoinder. “I am a profligate, and you are about to direct me on a wiser course, I believe.”
“Leave off. I am properly rebuked, and I apologize. Will you truly hear this now?”
Softening a bit, Gord agreed. “Of course. It’s just difficult for me to withstand such words as you have said. Remember, dear companion, that I had no such counsel when I was babe, stripling, or youth.”
Gord had no pity for himself in his voice, and Gellor didn’t insult him with a display of pity for him either. Life was what it was for each individual fortunate enough to live it. The man continued to explain.
“In the course of our observations and delvings-not mine, but the activities of those greater than I, in whose service I act-both evil and other interferences plagued our purpose. You, my friend, have a most mysterious skein! With care and skill, some small services were performed by means of dweomers and direct interactions. Those greater ones sought the same answers you seek even now, and they met with blanks. There is a slight something, possibly a matter of no import, but just perhaps something germane. It was detected in a scrying to foresee. That foreseeing was altered in your benefit, but I suddenly recalled something which made me come here to see you.”
Now the young man stood and began to pace back and forth in excitement. “You have a clue as to my parents? My home? What? I will venture into the pits of the Nine Hells, the Abyss, or the greatest sink of the nether realm of Hades for such information!”
“Nothing so definite, nor requiring such danger, Gord. Those who probed uncovered something which even they paid no heed to, and it is only my own strange ability to recall things which prompted my visit. Have you any memories at all of your infancy?”
“Not actually… just what old Leena related. It was she who told me that the box, there, was my only inheritance, but this only after I discovered it by accident one day. It didn’t mean anything to me at the time, but she was cruel and possessive about it. She would keep it hidden away from me and try to torture me by saying she’d burned it to keep warm, sold it for food money, and suchlike. Poor old crazy woman. How do you suppose I came into her care?”
Gellor nodded sympathetically. “From what you’ve said, Gord, she was a sad one indeed. She saved that little coffer, though, and you have it. Now that you’ve showed it to me, I have realized that it is what I recall seeing! The connection was a difficult one, else long ago I’d have told you. In the vision I saw the box was unmarred, magnificent, and within it were nine great black sapphires!”
“You’re certain you saw that same container, this very box?” Gord demanded, picking up the worn, scuffed coffer and thrusting it under the one-eyed man’s gaze.
In answer, Gellor lifted his black leather eyepatch and viewed the battered wooden box with his enchanted orb, a magical eyeball of gemstone that empowered him to see close up, far away, and things invisible or hidden even by ether or astral vibration as well. When Gellor employed the device, neither illusionary concealment nor any other magical cloaking could prevail against its inspection.