"There are two servants of the Circle of Eight here, agents who have no little skill and power in human terms. One is a dweomercrafter of high standing, the other a knight of renown who left his clerical studies to take up sword and lance against Evil," the druid explained. "This, and that the two are sworn foes of the Suloise cause and the dark Tharizdun, is all I have been told. We are to meet them here, not later than day after tomorrow. They will be recognized by their holy symbols, the silver unicorn horn and green tree. If they do not come by the time appointed, we are to push on without them. That could prove difficult, however, for the cavalier is the one who possesses knowledge of that region of the Suss which we must explore."

"How comes a cavalier," Jokotai inquired, "to have rede of such a tangle as that forest? It is not chivalrous to trek in woods."

Greenleaf shrugged. "Who knows what purpose she has been serving here along the Wild Coast?" He paused in thought for a moment, and his one-eyed friend suggested a possible reason.

"The Circle of Eight is known to me, Curley. Those who sit on its uppermost tier are always seeking after treasure… for whatever purposes they might have. Could it be that these two were after the legendary city and its fabled hill of gem-stones?" Gellor smiled at the group. "That, my comrades, would explain their purported knowledge of the Suss."

"Speculation leads us nowhere," the normally taciturn Incosee said. "We will find out soon enough – or else we will not. I think we should find another guide just in case these two fail to materialize."

After agreement from Jokotai, Moon, Patrick, and even Gord, the druid consented to a cautious search on the morrow for a possible guide. The problem took care of itself, however, when they descended to the inn's common room. A nondescript fellow arrayed in the garb of a mercenary – plain clothing, leather, and well-worn weapons – stood up and approached them.

"Your pardon, Good Folk," he began with a slight bow, "but I could not help noticing your determined nature and capable appearance. I am Blonk, a fighter and explorer for hire. There is little employment here in Badwall at this time, and if you are mounting an expedition which could use services such as my own, I am available… and would be most grateful."

"A sell-sword is no rare commodity," Gellor said flatly. "What makes you preferable to any of the dozens of others available?"

Gord was surprised at first, for the one-eyed bard had made no denial of their purpose. On second thought, though, Gord supposed that their appearance was such that no denial would have been effective and would only have drawn suspicion rather than avoided it. As a party of adventurers, they could have any of a score of reasons to be here. The young thief observed the mercenary as he replied.

"I fight well. I am familiar with this area, too, knowing the land from Highport to Warwell, Suss Forest to Woolly Bay. Having been raised in the woodlands, I hunt and track with some skill. As a man of professional ability, I am independent and need no advance payments… other than equipage suitable for whatever mission is to be undertaken, for I seek aught save a fair share of any gain I have assisted the company in attaining."

Curley Greenleaf was studying this man, Blonk he said his name was, as he spoke. Gord noted this careful scrutiny. There didn't seem much to see, actually, the young thief thought. Being used to observation of this sort himself, Gord had assessed Blonk immediately as a capable chap. The eyes were hard, although his face was seemingly mild. He had light brown wavy hair, hazel eyes, skin tanned by sun and wind as one would expect from a mercenary who spent much time in the field. His clothing and light armor were old but cared for properly and in good shape. Longsword and dag showed signs of having seen much employment but were likewise clean and polished. He was not without funds, Gord estimated, although his purse would be lean, with more drabs than nobles within it.

"Blonk, isn't it?" the druid said rhetorically. "Well, sir, we just might have need of your services in a day or three. Our party has yet to make up its mind, so to speak, as to whether or not we go to seek our fortunes where Lord Elredd assails the foemen in the Pomarj, or to make for Fax and the seaborne raiders who trouble it of late. If we are looking -for another sword, and guide as well, where shall we find you?"

"Thank you, druid. I shall be found easily enough, for I stay here at the Brass Ball, for a time at least. The ostler will direct you to me if you seek my services. I am the man if you face danger and want staunch fighters at your back." So saying, Blonk the mercenary nodded, bade them a good day, and strode to the hall beyond.

"What think you?" Curley asked Gellor.

"Fortuitous for us he should be here and volunteer… perhaps too fortuitous," the one-eyed adventurer replied.

"He is not as fine a swordsman as I," Jokotai said, "but he has a steel to him which tells me he is a tough adversary worthy of the contest."

Still discussing the pros and cons of accepting Blonk into their party should the need arise, they trooped out of the inn to go on their various errands. Many small details needed to be taken care of before they departed the walled town for their dangerous quest into the fastness of the wild Suss Forest.

It took only a little time for Gord to feel something wrong. Eyes were watching him. Having put many a prospective mark under surveillance himself, the young thief instinctively knew when others were marking him. Gord had separated from the others, intending to look for a few things particular to his own wants. The marketplace in Badwall was strung out along three axes that met in the open square. His watchers had certainly picked him up at the plaza and followed him to his present location along one of the side streets.

Gord tarried, peering into windows, spending time inside shops, and generally doing nothing that a casually browsing shopper would not have done. Meanwhile, he tried to discover the identity of those who were observing him. No success. Whoever they were, they were skilled at their art.

After spending about an hour at this game, Gord decided to return to the square and rendezvous with his associates. By doing this he finally managed to discover that there were two, possibly three, men following him. One was ahead now, so that meant that another was somewhere behind him. Another inconspicuous figure moved back and forth across the narrow street, occasionally coming quite near to Gord. Because he had not done so before, Gord supposed that his followers were becoming overconfident and careless – playing a game among themselves for their private amusement. The young thief decided that he would do his best to make them regret it.

Evening shadows were falling across the small plaza, and stalls and carts were closing. Incosee, Moon, and Patrick had just joined Gellor and Jokotai. The latter pair were munching on some confection purchased from ajust-closed booth, washing the honey and nut cake down with a crock of wine, which the Chakyik never seemed to be without. Where Curley and his satellites were, Gord didn't know, but he hoped that they'd arrive soon. The young thief wished to inform his friends of the situation quickly, so that they could be prepared for whatever might happen… and Gord was beginning to feel that something was going to transpire soon. He nonchalantly waved to his comrades as he strolled near. There was no doubt in his mind that Gellor had caught the flickering of his fingers and the set of his motion – signals that demanded immediate attention and conveyed warning.

"Successful shopping, Gord?" the one-eyed bard asked, but as he said this, his own hands were carefully querying Gord as to his concern. No one not in the group around him would have noticed such a signal, not even a skilled thief or Rhennee mountebank.