Night Arrant

by Gary Gygax

  "What?"

  "That is my bargaining point, man! I'll tell you what for the gift of the talisman."

  Viper sneered again. "And the assistance?"

  "Simply insurance. If you fail, I don't get the spider, turdhead. That's ample reason for me to be willing to have certain servants assist."

  "Come then, quasidemon," Viper said, naming the demonling for what it was for the first time.

  "You seem to be something I may need. I know what you are and how to deal with you. Produce the agreement, and perhaps we can strike a bargain."

  Gord was returning home in the wee hours. A little celebrating of his newly improved finances had been in order, but he had actually kept it within reasonable limits — and it was good he had. As soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs, he sensed something. It was as if eyes were upon him. Despite that, he stopped only for a moment, as if pausing a minute in drunken fatigue, to gather himself for the arduous climb up the many steps to his apartment on the fifth floor. Someone was watching him from above, Gord knew that.

  With a long sigh and a bit of tuneless whistling, Gord began plodding up the stairs. He went slowly and made a production of it. Anyone watching would surely believe that he was tipsy, tired, and vulnerable. The short cape he wore hid the drawn dagger clasped firmly in his left fist, while his right hand rested casually on the pommel of his enchanted sword. Because of that, Gord saw clearly enough.

  An unusually large rat was scuttling upward, undoubtedly fleeing his approach. Apparently, nothing worse lurked along the way. Whoever was lying in wait must have decided to ambush him when he entered his chambers. How could they have found this place? Gord asked himself. Perhaps it is a common robber, his brain answered. A dozen possibilities flashed through his mind as he ascended the last flight of stairs, but only one conclusion was logical. Very powerful foes had finally located the den of Blackcat, and what happened next would be a matter of life or death.

  "Now where's that silly-sodding key?" Gord said loudly in a crooning, drink-slurred voice as he approached the door to his apartment. His ears detected a faint whispering on the other side of the old planks. It was the noise felt-soled boots made as they slid along hard flooring.

  "Open up!" Gord shouted as loudly as he could even as both of his feet struck the door near its latch. He rebounded and rolled through the suddenly created opening while the door slammed and shivered as it struck the inside wall. Another figure was likewise somersaulting away. Too bad. Whoever lurked inside had managed to react with incredible swiftness when Gord had kicked the door in.

  Two smaller forms hastened to join the first There were three, possibly more, against him alone.

  "Fair odds, lads," the young thief laughed confidently as he advanced with his sword and dagger ready. He hoped that his seeming aplomb would put off the attackers one way or another. In truth Gord's heart felt like lead in his chest. This was a desperate situation indeed.

  The central figure made a waving motion to both sides of him and the two smaller men slid off to his left and right. "Welcome home, Blackcat." the tall I fellow hissed. "I brought you some special guests." The man issued a sibilant laugh at his little jest."

  "Guests? You are mice playing in the cat's lair!"

  "Almost, little pussycat, almost," the hissing reply shot back. "Let's say rats, though — with a big serpent to oversee their handling of an offending torn!"

  Just then the two men on either side of the assassin made a concerted attack, darting in to stab from left to right. Gord faked left, sprang right, and took the attacker there through chest and stomach with both blades. The rat-faced fellow screamed in pain and tried to get free, but Gord struck again, twice, with the long-bladed dagger, then shoved the corpse around into the path of the other one, who was coming from behind now. This one looked like the brother of the dead attacker, and as he became entangled with the body and fell. Gord made swift work of him so that two forms lay dying and twitching on the oaken floor.

  "Most impressive! Those blades you wield are dweomered, too. Our cat has sharp claws."

  "Viper!"

  "You know me, Blackcat? How curious. In that case I should have guessed your identity long ago, and all of this would be completely unnecessary. You'd have been dead and rotting weeks ago. But I don't recognize you at all, little man."

  The speech was almost sufficient to distract his attention, but Gord was too good to be totally taken by any such ruse. The sounds from behind warned him, and he vaulted into a series of springs that placed him farther inside his apartment and well away from the entrance. A quick look showed Gord he had done the right thing. At least a half-dozen of the rat-faced men were where he had been but a second or two before.

  "Stay there!" The order came from the lanky assassin and was directed at the rodent-faced henchmen. "I think that it will take a viper, not a pack of rats, to skin this cat."

  "You are very confident," Gord said to the assassin as he began to close. "I’ll tiy not to give you too long to regret your mistake. This cat is faster than any adder alive!" So saying, the young thief engaged his tall foeman, and in a series of quick exchanges wounded the man twice without receiving a scratch himself.

  "You little bastard!" The last came from Viper as Gord's dagger point slashed fine chainmail and the flesh beneath it. "Close on the filthy bastard now!" Viper nearly screamed the command. The rat-faced bunch nearby hastened to obey.

  The very number of attackers made Gord's situation an impossible one. He could hold them off for some time but there was no hope in the long run. He'd kill a few, but then their sheer numbers would tell; he'd fall in the press, and Viper would finish him with his damned poisoned sword. "I'll pull your fangs. Viper, before this load of rats finishes me!"

  At that, the assassin only laughed. There was little force in the threat, for Gord was now surrounded by the ratmen.

  The scene changed in the wink of an eye. One second three of the attackers were before him. The next they were scattered around, one broken where he had stood, another sent crashing through a window, and the last bitten in twain. Even the ice-cold Viper gave a startled gasp at the sudden turnabout.

  But it wasn't Gord's doing at all. Like an apparition, there stood in the midst of the melee a giant saber-toothed tiger, its jaws dripping blood from the wererat it had just bitten in half. Even as the assassin vented his cry of fear and the remaining rat-men tried to draw away, the huge cat struck again, as did Gord.

  The tiger was upon the remaining wererats in an instant, dealing out death with claw and fang. This beast was the largest of smilodons, the lord of them all. Perhaps one or two of the ratmen would have survived the attack of even so potent a beast as the saber-toothed tiger, but never the attentions of this giant among its kind. The sounds of their dying were not pleasant.

  Meanwhile, Gord leaped to confront the lanky killer. "Now, Viper, we have a more even game — cat against serpent. Shall we see which shall have the upper hand when the play is finished?"

  Rather than bothering to reply. Viper sent his sword flying at Gord as if it were a javelin. It was all the young thief could do to avoid the missile, so unexpected was the attack. Before he had a chance to regain his balance from the first onslaught, Gord found he was faced with yet another series of flying missiles. Viper had used his time well, and now his hands were filled with great darts. These he hurled with force at his opponent, and the missiles came in such rapid succession that it took every ounce of Gord's acrobatic skill to avoid their long, envenomed points. A dozen of the things buzzed through the air before the assassin's arsenal was exhausted.

  "What now, snake?" Gord had his sword pointed at the assassin's throat as he so inquired.

  A set of poniards appeared in Viper's hands as he leaped toward his smaller opponent, bent on sinking both weapons into him. Gord blocked the thrusting points with his shortsword and sank his own dagger deep into Viper's thigh as the two combatants wheeled and spun round an invisible center point One of the t
win blades sliced through Gord's leather jerkin but was stopped short by his shirt of eliin chain. All the while, a small, ugly little creature that had appeared but moments before clapped and cheered, laughed and jeered, as the pair fought for their lives.

  Both foemen moved back to catch their breath.

  Now Gord was silent, but Viper was angered by the presence and commotion of an unwanted spectator. "Shut your foul little mouth, quasidemon, and assist me in killing this man!"

  The little fiend laughed raucously at that. "Can't handle him by yourself, big-mouth turdhead? Sorry, but fighting isn't our deal. Beat him yourself or die, chump."

  "You'll not get your prize that way," the bleeding assassin gasped.

  "Who cares?" the creature japed in reply, "I got you then."

  Gord didn't wait to hear any more. He moved into another attack, lunging out to skewer the tall killer with a straight thrust. His point barely grazed the fellow, however. Viper was quick and a superb fighter. Both of his poniards flew at Gord. and then the assassin hurled down a vial that he had drawn from inside his tunic. When the glass struck the floor it exploded, and a cloud of thick, vile-smelling smoke hissed up and filled the room.

  "What the hells!" Gord swung his sword through the cloud of smoke blindly, but the effort was useless. There was noise from the room beyond. Viper was escaping through the window in his bed chamber! The young thief sprang after the escaping assassin and arrived in time to see him disappear through the opening. Gord knew that Viper was easily capable of climbing down and escaping before Gord could prevent it. He looked out and down anyway. Perhaps he could use sword or dagger to bring the damned killer to his doom.

  Viper was already about five feet down the wall and moving with assurance. Then an ugly little creature appeared and sat atop the assassin's head.

  "Where's my talisman?" Gord heard the thing demand.

  "Get the hells off my head!" Viper managed to scream. That was all he could do, for his hands were busy holding on for dear life. The little monster must have weighed a lot.

  "Give me the talisman or else forfeit your contract." the thing replied.

  "Putter you and the amber too!" Viper shrieked. "You didn't help me!"

  "Sure did! You were warned, and you got the nine wererats I promised. Sorry, but you have to forfeit. . ."

  "What are you talking about, quasidemon? There was nothing in that deal about forfeit!"

  "Sure there was, only it was written in small print. You probably didn't notice it."

  "Don't give me that dung." the assassin managed to say as he tried to continue his descent. "Demons aren't smart enough to put in that sort of stuff."

  The little thing began to do a jig atop Viper's head. "Oh, yeah. That's the other part I forgot to mention. I'm not really a quasidemon after all — how could you have thought I was when you saw me as a rat and I brought wererats to you? I am an imp, after all!" With that, the foul little creature began lashing its barb-tipped tail downward. The appendage struck at Viper's face, lacerating his cheek, forehead, and chin before it sank deeply into the assassin's eye. "Gotcha!" cackled the imp.

  There was a long, terrible shriek that ended only when Viper's body struck the cobblestones below with a meaty thump. Of the imp there was no sign at all.

  Gord stood staring down. What had just transpired was so terrible as to have frozen him in horror. Then he remembered about the saber-tooth! He sprang around, bringing up his sword. The massive cat was there, not six feet away, eyes fixed on him, small tail twitching. Useless or not, Gord brought his sword and dagger to the ready. The monster wavered and changed before the young man's startled eyes!

  "Sheathe your weapons, Blackcat." a large-muscled man with flowing yellow hair said. "Someday, perhaps, you and I will meet under less constrained conditions — and then will we test our strengths and skills. Until then, we have no quarrel."

  "No? No, I should think not, for you have saved my life. Just who, or what, are you?"

  "One sent by Rexfelis to aid you, and so have I done."

  "In truth, sir, in truth! How could he have known I would need help?"

  "Who can say what the Lord of Cats knows? Or why he cares to do what he does?" the big man said with a rumble. "Give over now the talisman of amber the one containing the purple spider, as payment for Rexfelis' aid, and I will leave you."

  "The talisman? Payment?"

  What is free in life, brother?"

  Gord sighed and turned away in resignation. He had dealt with the Catlord before, and he knew the futility of argument or trying to bargain. "Here," Gord said, handing the hemisphere of petrified resin to the strange man who could assume the shape of a saber-toothed tiger. "You have the payment, and tell Lord Rexfelis that with it come my thanks and regards."

  The man turned and left without a word. Gord didn't care. He felt drained, exhausted, and there was yet much to do this very night. In a few minutes the men of the watch would be around to inquire as to what had occurred. When they arrived, he must be well away. It took only a minute to gather up his gold and a few necessary items. Then Gord was away into the darkness of Greyhawk. It would be a long time before the city was troubled by Blackcat again.

  The next day Lord Mayor Gasgol had a full report of the incident in the Craftsmen's Ward. Viper's demise was a mixed blessing, but what of the thief? Gasgol's personal repute was on the line, yet he had no minion to serve him now. Word had reached the Thieves Guild of the previous night's happenings, and Arentol had put two and two together. "Have you succeeded in eliminating the rogue, lordship?" the guildmaster inquired.

  "Of course, my dear fellow, of course." Gasgol avoided the guildmaster's gaze as long as possible as the conversation went on. Finally, after trying to fend off several pointed queries, the lord mayor said airily, "How could I fail?" And as he so stated, he looked at Arentol, challenging him to continue the discussion.

  Then Nerof Gasgol saw the look in the eyes of the oligarch and master of thieves. Trouble of the worst sort was brewing in the mind of the man. "Indeed, sir," said Arentol, "you cannot fail — as all will know when Blackcat's head is high above the gates of the Citadel, just as you said it would be."

  Gasgol was ready with a response to that. "I've had some time to think about that, and I fear that such a display could be disturbing to the populace. After all, the man was high in our circles."

  "Whatman?"

  "Why, Blackcat, of course! I think it best if you and I keep this whole affair between us, dear guild-master. We have no need to upset the other oligarchs or the citizens of Greyhawk. By way of my gratitude for your cooperation, I shall end the strictures upon your guild this very day."

  "There is more, lordship. What of the losses we have suffered because of your orders? And there is the loss of face to be considered, too," Arentol said softly, his tone almost honeyed.

  Gasgol shifted uneasily in his chair and grumbled. This seemed very much like extortion to him — and he, of all people, should recognize extortion when he saw it. A lengthy bargaining session commenced, and in the end it was agreed that certain substantial sums would be transferred from the lord mayor's exchequer to the treasury of the Thieves Guild. Records were altered and the matter closed.

  "An agreeable conclusion, don't you think, dear cousin?" Arentol said heartily as he slapped the lord mayor on the shoulder in comradely fashion. Nerof Gasgol winced, scowled, but nodded in concurrence before he stumped out.

  Rumors circulated in the city, of course. It was whispered that the rogue calling himself Blackcat had been none other than Viper. It was said that the master of the Thieves Guild had devised a clever trap for the man, and the lord mayor had wisely agreed to the ploy. Thus, Viper had been brought to justice and once again all was well within the city.

  Gord was among those who heard the tale, naturally. He applauded it and told it to others as often as possible. Any reappearance of Blackcat in the future would certainly be a matter for the innermost circles of Greyhawk. and never again w
ould there be a reward offered for the offending rogue. After all, the lord mayor and the guildmaster of thieves had both personally accounted for the man. Ever afterward in the city, Blackcat was dead.

  Love Laughs at Locks

  "MY MISTRESS HAS POTIONS and amulets for every need!"

  The oily-haired Medegian merchant raised a pudgy hand glittering with jewelry to fend off the hunchback who had just made this bold claim. "I am no fool, you malformed huckster," he said with a sneer. "Keep your distance!"

  As the merchant spoke, a burly Urnstman, hand on his sword hilt, stepped beside him. It was obvious that the fellow was the merchant's bodyguard.

  "A paean of regret, gracious master," the shabbily clad cripple said, slowly moving sideways to escape the threat of attack,

  "Not so fast!" the fat man said, gesturing to cause the hunchback to remain in place even as he directed the armed Urnstman back a bit to a less threatening position. "Tell me now. Just who is this mistress of yours who offers such merchandise?" he demanded.

  Cringing, the cripple attempted a gap-toothed smile and replied, "She be the Grand Wizardess Noperda, your worship."

  "Never heard of such a person," the pudgy Medegian said in a tone of disappointment. He stepped closer to the bedraggled little man, who was still edging warily away from the merchant and his scowling attendant. "Why does a worker of her repute offer to sell her wares thus? And why does she use you as an agent?"

  The hunchback shrugged, a strangely disquieting gesture. 'Why, sir. is not for me to ask. Indeed, I dare not," he said hastily, and the merchant's features darkened at the reply. "The Grand Wizardess hired me when she arrived in this city several weeks ago, and I have reason to be glad for this employment."

  Grasping the corded arm of his bodyguard - for emphasis, the merchant stared hard at the cripple. "Even in so large a city as this, a villain of your sort is easily found and, shall we say, reprimanded. Still, you say you have been selling this Noperda's magical wares for weeks, and yet you live and breathe. Do you truly know that the offerings are efficacious, as advertised?"