City of Hawks by Gary Gygax Read Free Book Online Page B

added to his comrade’s statement. “The job’s all done, and you owe us another fifty orbs.”
    “Is that so…?” Colvetis Pol asked, allowing the query to trail off as if it weren’t really a question at all. “You saw the child blasted and came here right away to tell me, is that right?” The words were like little darts aimed at the two assassins.
    “Well, we sort-”
    “Shut yer yap, Spotty!” Alburt glared at the smaller man, then turned to face the priest with a belligerent expression plainly written on his flat, hard-lined face. “We did as we said, and that’s that. Both the mage and the kid are dead, as contracted for. Now hand over our gold, or else.”
    The cleric’s robes rustled as he made a small gesture. An arras covering the far wall swayed, and several men emerged from the area that the hanging screened from view. Alburt and Slono Spotless were shaken at this, for among these arrivals was the master of their guild. “You heard their own words,” the great priest of Nerull said flatly. “Your servants are quite unreliable.”
    The chief of all assassins in Greyhawk was pale. His pallor was partly due to rage, partly fear, and the combination was evident to any observer. “I heard, Lord Pol, and I will make amends.”
    “Not to me,” the priest said with a sly smile.
    The master of killers looked sideways at a cloaked figure beside him, involuntarily moving away from it as he did so. “No, Lord Pol…” he murmured.
    Now Alburt was becoming more than uneasy. No longer belligerent, the big assassin was close to panic. “Wait! I was only covering for Spotty. It wuz him who futtered up things, and that’s so. The stupid little bastard blundered right into the geezer’s runes, and-”
    “Rot yer tongue, you big bag o’ shit!” Slono was not going to go down without a fight. “You were the top dagger, Alby, an’ you tol’ me to go and orf the kid whilst you was checking things out. You took all the loot, too!” The last accusation was the most damning one the little assassin could think of.
    A hollow, rasping voice came from the cloaked figure, cutting through the air inside the stone vault where the scene was transpiring. “How long was it after the infant vanished before you came back here?”
    “Maybe a half hour,” Alburt stammered out, but almost at the same time Slono also spoke.
    “About an hour or so,” the smaller man blurted.
    The raspy voice sounded again. “Was it a half hour or more than that?”
    “Longer… I guess,” the big assassin admitted, with a murderous look at Slono.
    “So,” the strange voice choked out. The figure lurched suddenly, and then, without seeming to traverse the intervening distance, it was standing before the two assassins. Hands covered with rotting flesh shot out of enveloping sleeves and clamped firmly upon the two heads. Alburt was held by the forehead, Slono Spotless atop his pate. “For your actions I give you my special blessing,” the figure said. Then it seemed to convulse again and was suddenly standing back where it had been before. Both Alburt and Slono stood dumb. Then they began trembling as if with the ague.
    “No… please…” Alburt whimpered. Then a fit of coughing wracked his big frame and he was unable to speak further.
    “Had you reported at once, as you should have,” the sallow-skinned priest of evil said slowly, making certain each word got through to the two assassins, “none of this would have happened to you. I-we-could have known what device was used to remove the child from our ken, and the matter would be a simple one to correct.”
    “Dispose of those two carefully, priest,” the hooded figure said in its sickness-tinged voice. “Their infestation is one which could be spread to many weakling humans.”
    The maroon-gowned cleric shrugged in indifference. “What is a little disease to me? Still, there are some hereabouts who might be affected.” He stared at the slowly dying assassins