D& D - Greyhawk - Night Watch (39 page)

Ellon got out of his chair and went to his window. The sky beyond was a bright, warm blue. “We’ll see,” he answered. “We’ll just see. Right now, I’m busy trying to choose a new magister. Poor Kentellen Mar. I don’t suppose we’ll ever know what really happened to him. He was a fine man.” Ellon grew quiet again as he looked out the window. When he turned around again, there was a harder look in his eye. “I spoke with the ambassadors from Furyondy, Urnst, and Tenh this morning,” he said, returning to his chair and his cup of wine. “And I called in a few favors. I’m afraid the Hierarchs in the Shield Lands are going to be encountering some major trade problems in the days to come.”

Garett regarded Ellon with new respect. Along with Greyhawk, Furyondy, Urnst, and Tenh pretty much controlled shipping, not only on the Selintan River, but on the great Nyr Dyv as well. If they acted in unison, it was possible to choke off almost all trade into or out of the Shield Lands. Garett doubted, though, that they would go quite that far.

“There is no doubt, then, that he was a Hierarch?”

Ellon put on an ugly sneer. “Not enough to deter me from this course. After the wizards returned to their guildhall, they confirmed the origin of the winged skull sigil as a small but fanatic sect within the Horned Society. They found notes in Prestelan’s handwriting in the library with a copy of the sigil. Apparently, he was gone when the wizards were initially attacked and captured. There was further evidence among the cargo of the caravan that brought the wizard to us. Instruments of magic, books of spells written in the society’s language, some weapons of Shield Land manufacture.” He picked up his cup and took a long drink, then propped his feet up on a corner of his desk as he leaned back. “In any case, we have a number of prisoners from among the invaders. None of them seem to speak a tongue anyone knows, but it’s just a matter of time and the proper persuasion before we get some answers from them.”

The mayor looked up suddenly and slapped his palm down on the arm of his chair. “So things return to normal. The streets are full of elves and dwarves and ores again. Even some of the Attloi are drifting back. And thank the gods all this celebration business is over with. I was never very comfortable with a lot of pomp and circumstance.” He sipped from his cup again and gave Garett a warm, confident smile. “But enough of all this. You’ve still got five days of special leave left. What are your plans?”

Garett matched Ellon’s smile with a faint one of his own as he rose and went to the window. Looking out, he could just see the tents and booths of High Market Square. “First,” he confessed, “I’m going to have dinner and spend the night with a charming, red-haired lady. If she’ll have me, that is.” Then his hand brushed lightly against Guardian’s hilt. He gave a small sigh. “And tomorrow I’m going on a trip.”

“A trip!” the mayor exclaimed, brightening. “How nice!”

Garett and Burge sat in their saddles, staring toward the first clumped line of mangaroo trees. The tall grass shifted and stirred as the breeze blew about them, and the water rippled. A light mist hung over everything, a mist that sparkled under the watchful eyes of Kule and Raenei.

“What am I doin’ here?” Burge muttered, half to himself. “Blossom had the right idea.”

Garett grinned to himself. In response his suggestion that she accompany them on another outing to the Mist Marsh, Blossom made an obscene gesture and announced plans to spend the night at The Tomb, drinking it dry, instead. Not even the gift of earrings made from the two remaining amethyst crystals could change her mind.

“Maybe it’s Rudi who has the right idea,” Garett ventured.

The half-elf made a face. “Sit home with a wife?” He spat into the mist. “I’m not old enough for that life, and I’m twice his age.”

They rode a bit closer to the mangaroo grove, then stopped again. Garett drew Guardian from the sheath. The only glow on the blade was the gleam from the two moons overhead. He turned the weapon over and over, watching

the silvery light dance on the edge, watching the flash of the emerald splinters in the eyes of the tiger-shaped tangs, it was a beautiful sword. A wondrous sword.

But it wasn’t for him.

Guardian, it was called. One of the Pillars of Heaven, Twelve swords that had long ago disappeared from the world. There must have been a reason for that, and Mor-denkainen had given dark hints about the abuse of power. Perhaps there was no longer a place in the world for the potent magic Guardian represented. Perhaps times and men bad changed too much since the forging of the swords at the beginning of the world.

Garett didn’t know if he was right. He only knew that he didn’t want to keep Guardian. With an instinct that, itself, bordered on the arcane, he knew the sword didn’t belong to him. He had only borrowed it to defend his city.

It was time to give it back.

He rode a few paces ahead of Burge and stared into the dark knot of mangaroos. The leaves rustled, like a raspy song on the breeze, and he remembered how good Rudi’s roast goose had smelled on a night not too long ago.

He raised the sword by its hilt, drew back his arm, and threw it. Far out toward the mangaroos it sailed, arcing high, catching the moonlight as it tumbled end over end, and Garett felt his heart soar with the blade. More than ever, he knew that he had done the right thing.

Then an amazing thing happened. Out of the mangaroos, a mighty mouth opened. A great gray worm surged upward out of the mists, through the leafy branches, and caught Guardian. Soundlessly it sank back into the marsh and disappeared.

The water rippled subtly, the grasses waved, and streamers of mist wafted about like timid ghosts. Burge rode up beside Garett. Pale and wide-eyed, he stared toward the trees. “Would it be all right with you if we didn’t tell anyone about this?” he asked in a soft whisper.

Garett smiled. He had no doubt that by this time tomor-

row Burge would have told the story a dozen times in a dozen different taverns, and with each telling would make it even more fantastic than it truly was.

“Let’s go home,” was all the watch captain said.