In a flash of pale radiance from Chert's phosphorescent pocket stone, Gord saw only a pair of boots and a huge cape where . . . something . . . had been only moments before. He peered at the boots, held one up, and then dropped it "That is padded inside for no human foot!" he said with disgust as he quickly gathered up the cape and searched it. "Nothing," Gord informed Chert as he tossed the garment down, "but a faint and repugnant odor."

"I still have a part of. . . it." Chert said flatly as he held forth his left hand for Gord's inspection.

"That's a tentacle," Gord said with a faint quaver in his otherwise smooth voice.

"A tentacle whose suckers still grasp a coin!" Chert retorted as he jerked the metal disc from the member and flung the extremity to the stone paves. "But it is like no other in Greyhawk," he continued as he inspected the shining bit of stuff.

Gord moved closer to get a better look at the coin. "It has to be the trigger! it has a hand on one side and a rectangle on the other."

"It is no metal i've ever seen before," the big barbarian agreed. "It is no real coin. How do we proceed?"

Thus," the young thief said as he picked the disc from the huge palm with his long, slender fingers. "I hold the thing so that the hand faces my hand and the rectangle matches the gate. Then I simply touch the gate with the coin!" So saying, Gord matched action to word, but nothing happened. "Well, it seemed logical," he muttered.

"Reverse the coin and try again." Chert suggested, seeming rather proud of this insight.

"Right," Gord replied sourly as he turned the coin so that the hand lay upward. "There is an equal chance that my first guess would be correct, and now I have a smirking lout telling me how to do my work. Here goes. . . ."

Both adventurers jerked back in surprise as the iron portal glowed, shimmered, and vanished, all in an instant. Although there was dim light beyond the archway, some mist or haze prevented either of the two from seeing more than a few feet into the area revealed.

"This must be some anteroom, perhaps a small courtyard. So there is a building between here and Odd Alley!" Gord said triumphantly. "In we go on the count of three. One, two, three!"

Gord sprang forward while Chert simply used his long legs to stride into the newly revealed space that the metal gate had hidden. As the pair entered; the mist swirled, darkened, and then disappeared.

"Back on Odd Alley?" Chert asked in a puzzled voice. The sudden dispersal of the obscuring haze showed a torchlit street before them. But the place they had just come from was no longer visible.

"Hey! I don't think we can leave the same way we came!" Chert said rather frantically, pulling on his friend's sleeve as he spoke. But the barbarian's lean friend was concentrating on what lay ahead, not behind.

"Never was Odd Alley so wide or so well-lit!" Gord said, seemingly awestruck. "See there, glass lanterns and glowing globes, too! Is there then a whole section of street — a mews, rather, hidden between those twin gates?"

Chert was hardly paying attention to what Gord had said, for, as his eyes had frantically scanned the street for some sign of an exit, they had spotted a beehive-like structure with a sign that depicted an incredibly well-endowed young lady. "Do me of de lights?" he said aloud, trying to decipher the words on the display. "Hey Gord. What does 'do me of de lights' mean?" the baffled barbarian asked as he pointed a huge finger at the object of his contusion.

"It reads 'Dome of Delights'," you lecher," Gord said distractedly, for his gaze was roving up and down the curving way ahead. "Beyond is a place called Achmutt's Cut-Rate Carpets, and across the road are the Tower Tavern and Count joseph's Emporium of the Unusual."

"Never heard of any of them. Let's check out the Dome," Chert suggested a little too eagerly.

"In time, perhaps," Gord said firmly as he directed his hulking companion up the lane. Looking around the gentle curve, Gord knew it was all wrong. There was not this much space for all these establishments between Odd Alley and the gate through which they had just passed. Then his eye caught a bronze plaque affixed to the wall of a nearby building. He read it aloud in wonder. "Weird Way?"

"It does appear a bit peculiar," Chert agreed. "What is that exotic edifice over there?"

"Pagoda of Pools. I’ve never heard of a Weird Way in Greyhawk!"

The ways of this city are all strange, my small friend." the barbarian mumbled as he stared at a woman in gauzy garments who had just exited a place called the Pavilion of Portals and was heading directly toward them. She smiled invitingly at Chert's ogling gaze.

"Hey, beautiful, the streets at night aren't safe for someone as luscious as you!" the giant fellow fairly crowed. "How about I serve as your guard?"

"With you as guard, who'd need attackers?" the woman retorted in a laughing, husky voice. "But if you're interested, I'm heading for the Dome — want to come with?"

"We'll be in later," Gord interjected firmly.

"Ask for Zenobia of Aerth." She flung the words over her shoulder as she went past.

Chert watched the swaying hips and long, shapely legs until Zenobia was out of sight within the beehive-shaped edifice. "Like a peach!" he said with admiration.

"Like a melon!" Gord countered.

"What? What are you talking about?"

Gord strolled on up the street. "Your head," he called, and ignored the big barbarian thereafter.

"Okay, okay!" Chert said, as he hurried to walk beside his companion. "What other interesting stuff do you see?"

"Learning to read should be a requirement for all barbarians," Gord told his friend.

"But I can read — better than I used to, anyway."

"Which isn't saying a whole hell of a lot!" Gord mumbled. But Chert's curiosity overrode his pride, and he was insistent upon knowing the name of every establishment they passed. The young thief, knowing how persistent his sometimes troublesome friend could be, shrugged in resignation and called out as they slowly walked along the nearly deserted street. "Juxort's Charts and Maps is to the left. Next to it is the shop that styles itself Wonders of the World. Across the street are Abner Crobny the Outfitter, the Arms Exchange, and Elixirs from Everywhere. Interesting."

As they approached the end of the street they saw a large and brightly lit hostel, the Explorer's inn, and a store identified as Multiversal Armorer. Beyond that was a walled plaza at least a hundred paces deep and twice as broad The booths and stalls that lined its perimeter were empty, closed, and their bright colors and diverse forms were only faintly discernible in the light spilling into the area from the street.

"Too bad the market is empty," Chert said. "Let's have a bite of repast a sip of malt tonic, and explore the most interesting places thereafter."

"Bite? Sip? Stuff and swig is more your style, you bottomless pit! But I’ll agree this once, for we need both refreshment and information," Gord said soberly, "You, unlike me, are not native to Greyhawk, so you do not understand my bafflement. This place is not in the city I know as Greyhawkl"

Chert waved airily. "Then we are elsewhere — what matter? There are places of interest here, and those who pursue us are in Greyhawk. right? Therefore, we are free of the dogs who seek us and have excellent prospects for an entertaining night!"

"Well, yes. Come to think of it, your logic does seem sound. So, shall it be the Tower Tavern or the hostel for explorers?"

"The nearest, my friend, the nearest," Chert said happily, rubbing his huge hands together in anticipation. "A suckling pig and a flagon of amber ale with which to wash it down would serve well as an appetizer, don't you think?"

Walking swiftly now, the two adventurers retraced their path down the now-busy street. Both young men noted that the pedestrians were of all sizes and shapes, male and female, human and who-knew-what.