D& D - Greyhawk - Night Watch by Robin Wayne Bailey Read Free Book Online Page A

sword. But Garett found, almost to his surprise, that he had an affinity for the weapon. He had not been proud of the killing, but it had pleased him to know that he could defend himself.
    He had spent the next few years after that merely adventuring around, wandering without purpose, seeing the sights. He had sailed on the Azure Sea in the southlands and traveled the edges of the deadly Sea of Dust in far-flung Bakluni. From the rocky shores of the Dramidj Ocean he had seen the Pinnacles of Azor’alq, rising slate-gray and as sharp as daggers from the tossing white-capped waves, and he had seen the circling dragons that made their nests there. To the fantastic lands of Oerth he had journeyed, providing for himself a better education than Greyhawk University, with all its teachers and philosophers, could ever have given him.
    His tutors had taught him to look into books, to look at the stars, to watch the flights of birds, to note the march of history. But now he learned more practical skills, how to fight, how to survive, how to look into the hearts and souls of men. He fought wars for countries whose names he couldn’t remember. He killed more times than he wanted to remember. The scars on his body were too many to count. He couldn’t remember the exact day when wandering took a darker turn toward the mercenary side of life.
    Nor could he quite remember the day when he woke up and realized how tired of it all he had become. But he rose that same day, rode to the nearest port, and booked passage on the first ship that would take him closer to Greyhawk. The journey took months of sea and overland travel. Finally, a boat carried him up the Selintan River from the Azure Sea and deposited him, weary and down to his last silver noble, on the docks of his hometown. That was in his twenty-fifth year.
    The moneylender with whom he had left his small inheritance was, of course, dead. The weasel-faced cousin who had assumed the business had no record of any such transaction. Garett only grinned and took it all in good humor. Then he proceeded calmly to smash the man’s place of business. As soon as the City Watch arrived, he asked for a job, and when he demonstrated that he could read and write, they made him an officer.
    That had been five years ago, and he had risen fast through the ranks. But, he realized, now he had risen as high as he ever would, and sometimes the memories of those distant, wonderful places he had visited called to
    him. He had never seen the Burning Cliffs far up north by the Icy Sea. He had always wanted to see the Burning Cliffs.
    Garett gave another stretch and straightened the reports on his desk. There was no point in dwelling on the past, he told himself. He had come home to Greyhawk, and here he intended to stay. He’d traveled enough to learn that he couldn’t make the world a better place, but maybe he could make one or two streets just a little safer.
    He closed his door behind him as he left his office and made his way out of the Citadel into the bright day. A strong western breeze blew over him, bringing with it just a whiff of the Selintan River. He accepted it gratefully. The day was already scorching; without the breeze, the heat would quickly become unbearable. Reaching up to his neck, he unfastened the brooch that held his cloak and slung the garment over his right arm.
    At the eastern edge of the High Market Square stood the Hall of Justice. It was a long, low building fronted by twin rows of columns carved from white stone that sparkled in the sunlight. Within, Greyhawk’s eight magistrates sat in judgment over those accused of crime, or weighed arguments between litigants in civil matters. Even without a magister to oversee the eight, the courts still continued to function, though it was up to the judges themselves to work out who heard which cases until Kentellen Mar took office.
    Adjacent to the hall stood the jail, a much smaller building to appearances, though actually there were