Saga of the Old City by Gary Gygax Read Free Book Online Page A

his great progress, and the celebration was one that Gord should have relished. The instructors informed him that he was being moved from apprentice to least master, bypassing journeyman status altogether. This was an unprecedented advancement, but there was no great singing in Gord’s heart at the news. He pretended joy and celebrated accordingly, but his mood was really dark and his spirit heavy. Something, he sensed, was wrong.
    Dizzy-headed and reeling from the wine he had consumed, Gord was shown his new master-status room late that night. He fell into a drunken slumber and awoke the next day with a terrible taste in his mouth and an equally terrible hangover.
    The news came early that morning: The Watch had found the body of the woman who was suspected of the murder of a man in the Garden Quarter. Whoever the victim was, the officials of the city were in an uproar over it. The newly found victim had been beaten, raped, and then strangled-obviously the work of some of the many muggers who roamed the Thieves Quarter.
    The victim was Violet, of course. Gord had figured all along that Theobald would never countenance mistakes such as those she had made. Gord was also sure that the fat son of a bitch had been happy to perform the execution of the errant Violet, that the Beggarmaster had thoroughly enjoyed the whole process. With a heart hard as granite, Gord bent himself to the day’s activity. His vow to revenge Violet’s degradation was nothing he needed to think about further until the opportunity arose. In the interim, he would simply work harder and get better at each and every skill he was given the chance to gain.
    There was no outing the next day, as had been scheduled. The word was that training was more necessary than the extra income gained from field operations. It was evident to Gord that this was a lie. After all, what better place to get true training and experience than in the field? Actually doing was much better than practicing with dummies and the like; no matter how clever the lesson, it was just exercise, not real thievery Could the monster Theobald be afraid that his plot had been jeopardized by Violet’s killing of that stupid thief? That he feared discovery was certain, or else he would not have killed Violet and left her corpse to be found by the Watch. That was a dual-purposed ploy. First, it would take the search for criminals in a different direction-and who actually cared if a murderess was in turn slain? Second, if the thieves thought that some daring beggars had overstepped their bounds, they might view Violet’s killing as an apologetic execution, intended to pacify the thieves. Accompanied by a temporary cessation of non-Guild thievery, this would indicate to them that the Beggarmaster had discovered the offenders and eliminated their leader, and all was once again in proper order.
    The fallacy in this line of reasoning was obvious to Gord, and he fervently hoped that Theobald would not also see it. The Guild would not be concerned overmuch about the killing of a single thief-and a foolhardy one, at that. Gord could imagine the leaders of the Guild, upon hearing of Violet’s demise, spying to themselves, “Does fat Theobald really think we care about that?” They would bide their time, giving the Beggarmaster one last chance to change his ways. But if the beggar-thievery did not cease altogether…
    When a week later the Beggarmaster’s corps was once again sent into action, Gord was jubilant. He did his best to steal everything valuable, and not so valuable, in sight. He brought in a record haul, and for it he was given hearty congratulations by all of the masters of the beggar-thieves. They said openly that another trip such as Gord’s today would certainly be sufficient to make him a full master, bypassing the interim rank of associate. Gord only smiled inscrutably. He knew what the results of the activities of the corps would bring….
     
    The hall was in absolute chaos the next