Gord merely grinned through his clenched teeth as he pressed harder on the weapon. A couple of more strokes, and he had made a squarish set of lines about an eighth of an inch deep in the iron. With these to guide his work, the young thief began to make gouging motions with the weapon, so that the dagger’s blade passed back and forth along the channels, from one to another. It was like a normal knife blade cutting oak-slow work, but certain to succeed. In minutes the task was done. The square of metal clattered down into the place between false bottom and real one. There was, as predicted, a half-foot space beneath. Gellor brought a candle near, and golden light was reflected back in its flickering illumination.

Using utmost care, the two proceeded to gather up the stuff hidden in the false bottom of the chest. The orbs there were bright yellow gold all right, but each bore the horned and crowned death’s head of the Hierarchs on its face, with a coiled serpent on the obverse. With these coins were a soft leather bag and a tube of bone. The two thieves tucked the small bag and the coins in with the rest of their booty, and soon after that they had managed to open the tube.

“Gord, those deviates could have put this here as part of the protections….”

“I’ve heard of such things, Gellor, but cursed or not, we must examine it. Anything to do with the Horned Society is likely to bode ill for us anyway.”

Without further hesitation, the one-eyed thief unrolled the parchment within the cylinder, while Gord moved beside him so as to be able to read it too. What was there was nothing magical at all, nor was it a map. It was simply a set of instructions written clearly in Common. After scanning it quickly, Gellor replaced it in the tube and tucked that into his belt. The two men exchanged a few quick words about what they would do next, then turned the iron chest back upright. Gord picked up both of the shirt-sacks stuffed with coins and went upstairs. Gellor followed him a couple of minutes later, dragging the body of Swutch with him. He took it into Flatchet’s bedroom, dropping it near the still-comatose body of the bandit captain. During this time, Gord had been piling straw from the floor of the bedchamber around the base of the dry wooden walls of the hut. As Gellor returned from the cellar with Taw’s body, Gord was applying a candle flame to several spots along the mound of straw. Then Gord and Gellor picked up their loot and let themselves out, closing the door on the flames that were beginning to lick at the walls. They scooped up the registry volume and hastened outside. A faint whitening of the horizon told them that dawn would come soon. They were entering the Towergate of Stoink when it did.

Chapter 17

The great hall of the lord mayor’s palace was aglitter with candles and flambeaux. The crowd within was a sparkling array of the elite of Stoink. His Authoritative Lordship Dhaelhy led the festivities, and with him were the various ward leaders, clerics, guildmasters, and other officials who were his liegemen. Attendant to all, of course, were entourages of guards, retainers, servants, and females-grand ladies as well as other sorts. The half-hundred important men, with thrice that number of others in service to them, plus the palace guards and staff, nearly filled the huge chamber. The crowd of lesser bureaucrats and minor leaders of Stoink and its environs brought the crowd to near three hundred.

Long trestle tables were arrayed in the hall, and these boards groaned with the weight of the food and drink upon them. The major domo slammed his ceremonial staff down on a wooden platform constructed so as to issue a booming sound when so struck. At this sound, minstrels ceased their strumming and singing, and jongleurs ceased their tricks, as did the capering jester. A hush fell over the place, for Boss Dhaelhy was about to speak.

“Lords and ladies, masters and mistresses,” (a few titters) “gentlefolk… welcome to this palace!” (Cheers and applause.) “You are commanded here to celebrate because I have just saved Stoink from disaster!” (Louder cheers and heavy clapping.) “Wait… wait… There is more than that. I have strengthened our state, and assured its preeminent position as leader of the Alliance of the States of the Free Lords!”

This last announcement precipitated such a tumult of applause and cheering that Boss Dhaelhy stood silently for several minutes, hands raised, basking in the adulation. At his signal, the major domo again made the hall boom to his staff, and the assemblage was again hushed. The boss continued.

“I discovered a most wicked plot by our former allies, the Hierarchs of the Horned Society.” (Catcalls, hisses, boos, jeers, and whistles.) “Those bastards would embroil us with the cursed Tenha Host, and with us most of the Free Lords of the East, while their filth-devouring legions ran unopposed over our Brothers to the West!” The boss and lord mayor paused here, but the listeners made little noise, for the impact of his statement was being assessed. Then he resumed.

“I discovered this scheme, and brought its leaders low. The agents of the Hierarchs were here-yes, here in Holdroon! They are dead now, their warchest a part of our treasury, and the men-at-arms they recruited with deceit and lies now serve me! Soon I ride with them to Riftcrag. There, a Grand Council of Free Lords will meet, and there we will pursue our crusade to remove the Hierarchs’ troops from Warfields and Wormhall… and I shall be Chief of Lords!”

Dhaelhy beamed as a storm of wild jubilation swept through the crowd and filled the hall with such noise that even the most strenuous beating of the mace-butt on the drum boards could not be heard above the din. A magic-user in the back took the opportunity to cause an illusion of appropriate nature to appear. A line of chained hobgoblins clanked through the suddenly opened doors of the chamber. Each carried the head of a human on a golden platter, and each bloody head was crowned with a horned coronet. This file of captives and grisly trophies was guarded by huge soldiers in black armor, armed with halberds and wearing the blazon of Stoink-a white field embellished with an azure bend, and a golden spear superimposed over all. As this procession entered, heralds blew silver trumpets likewise decorated with armorial bearings. The throng quieted as everyone turned to watch the spectacle. The audience applauded when the hobgoblin captives hurled the heads down at the table before the boss, and each gory pate dissolved into a shower of golden coins and raihbow-hued jewels. The mace drummed again, the illusion vanished, and the onlookers were again silent.

“There is just a little more, dear peers and subjects. I did not accomplish this all alone. Faithful men served to assist, and we are here not only to celebrate my triumph, but to share with these subjects Our glory and accomplishment!” Subdued remarks as to the generosity and magnanimity of the Boss accompanied the applause that followed this remark.

“The Honored Guests of the revel are here, near me. I present them to you all: Gellor, a magsman of Our Thieves’ Guild, and his associate, Gord, a freesword late of Leukish and likewise a member of Our Guild. It is Our decision that each be given honor hereafter as Deputy Bailiffs and Subalterns of the Constabulary Guard!”

There was polite applause and a few raised eyebrows at this, for the boss never gave out such positions unless something big had been done by the recipients. Deputy Bailiff status literally meant a license to steal, and that office, as well as that of the Guard, bore remuneration that even after payoffs and kickbacks would amount to five or six luckies a month-for no work. The pair now standing and inclining their heads bore watching by each of the assembled officials, either as potential rivals or possible climbers whose friendship could be useful. Then His Authoritative Lordship signaled for the festivities to continue, and the revelers were soon engaged in eating, drinking, and conversation once again.