Anthology - Realms of Mystery Part 13

"I say," I responded, "If this is about your not liking my choice of reading materials, I..."

But the genie was already shaking his head, and motioned toward the door of the Burrows. There was an ornate squiggle of pounded bra.s.s over the door, surrounded by arcane markings. The markings covered the entire frame of the doorway, and, I noted in the flickering street-lamps, extended along the entire building. It looked like unruly scribes had targeted the tavern's outer walls as an impromptu scriptorium.

"Mystic wards," he said simply, "Magical symbols that keep creatures from other dimensions at bay.

Master Ugly must be very worried about such beings, from the looks of things. With these wards in place, the tavern is proof against all manner of demons, devils, devae, archons, undead, elementals, efreet..."

"...and djinn," I finished.

The tall genie gave a small shrug which he turned into a bow of admission. "I cannot enter. Indeed, I must confess that this many wards in one place give me a rather intense headache."

"Very well," I said, trying to imagine Ampi with a ripper of a hangover, "You'll just have to keep an eye out on the street then. That happens in the books all the time, anyway. One of the investigators goes in, while the other one stays outside 'riding crossbow,' as it were. Do you have a crossbow on you?"

"I neglected to pack one," said the djinni, "But I could scare one up if you thought it necessary."

I waved off the suggestion, "It matters little. Stay out here and keep your orbs glued to the building.

If anyone suddenly leaves I want you to be ready."

"As you wish," said Ampi, again with a small bow. He took two steps backward and disappeared among the shadows of the buildings directly across from the tavern.

I straightened my cape and climbed the six low stairs leading to the door in two large strides. I took a deep breath and plunged into the bar.

Now I had been in taverns from Waterdeep to Iriaebor, oftimes wearing something similar to my red satin cape and trousers. Usually, upon entering, there is a brief lull in the conversation as some of the resident bar flies check out the newcomer, and, once ascertaining that the new individual meant no immediate threat, turn back to their ales.

Not this time. The noise level dropped to an imperceptible level. One moment it was a typical tavern noise, the next it was dead silence. The last time I had witnessed something like this was when cousin Halian did his impression of grand-uncle Maskar while the old goat had suddenly appeared, unseen, behind him.

In this case, however, it was my own arrival that had squelched the conversations. I took the opportunity to look around. If the outer walls were decked with mystical wards, the inner walls were positively festooned with arcane designs. No wonder Ampi was getting headaches, I thought. The crisscrossing lines and whirls were enough to give anyone without sufficient alcohol in their system asplitting migraine, and was probably an inducement for those within to keep drinking.

But it was the patrons that were the clue to the sudden silence. There were about thirty of them altogether-a trio of halflings on high stools alongside the bar, a gaggle of gnomes plotting in a booth, a morose-looking dark elf (male) at the end of the bar, and a clutch of dwarves playing cards in the far corner. A pair of large, scaly ogres who apparently did the heavy lifting, and who were converging on my location at flank speed.

I put my finger on the problem at once. There were no humans present. Or to be more correct, there were no humans other than myself.

"You're in the wrong place," said the slightly taller of the two ogres, his words lisping around his oversized lower fangs.

I looked the ogres up and down (more up than down), and thought what the mystorical heroes would do in such a situation. I decided to grab the conversational bull by the horns and responded, "This is the Burrows, is it not?"

The ogre blinked, apparently unused to such a direct approach. He nodded.

"And there is someone named Big Ugly in charge around here?" I continued, arching an eyebrow most archly.

Another nod.

"Then I am in the right place," I said, stepping down toward the bar. "Please inform Mr. Ugly that Master Tertius Wands, of the Wands of Waterdeep, is present and wishes to converse with him."

All thirty sets of nonhuman eyes followed me as I strode to the bar (at the far end from the drow), pulled out a stool, and sat down. Or at least tried to sit down.

The stool disappeared beneath me, s.n.a.t.c.hed by one of the ogres. The other one, the slightly taller one, simultaneously grabbed me by the collar and breathed hotly in my ear, "this way." He propelled me toward a door in the back of the tavern, keeping me slightly above the ground so could only graze the floorboards with my flailing toes.

Beyond the door lay darkness. Most nonhumans have some form of ultra-, infra-, or arcano-vision that allows them to see in the dark. Unfortunately that gift was not extended to the human race, so I merely strained my eyes against the ebon blackness. I was set down and found a chair in the darkness.

There was movement about me in the dark, followed by a sharp clicking noise. Then there was light, all of it funneled in my direction. I held up a hand against the brightness, and was vaguely aware that the two ogres were now flanking me.

"Who are you?" said a voice behind the light. I could not see anything other that a blaze of whiteness, but the voice came from above the light source.

"Ter-" I said, my voice breaking, "Tertius Wands of Waterdeep. I'm looking for the one called Big Ugly."

"Why do you seek him?" said the voice.

I s.h.i.+fted in my seat. I was the one supposed to be asking the tough questions. "Ugly, er, Mister Ugly has something in his possession that I am interested in." I shut up at this point. In the mystoricals, the hero would always give away as much as he had to, but no more.

I was rewarded with another sound I had not heard before, a sound of soft whispers behind the light. Big Ugly had advisors, it seemed. The voice said aloud, "What is the item in question?"

"A box. Amber. About so big by so big," I motioned with my hands and immediately the ogres on either side of me tensed. "Belongs to a woman. She wants it back. She'll pay a finder's fee for it. Very generous one, indeed."

I pulled out a slip of paper, on which I had written Drusilla's offer. It seemed high to me for even an heirloom, but people are funny that way about family possessions. One of the ogres s.n.a.t.c.hed the paper out of my grasp and took it to behind the light.

More silence and whispering. Then the voice said, "Come again in two nights time. Now go."

"Now wait just a moment," I said, trying to rise as I spoke. Two large ogrish paws clamped down, one per shoulder, and I was lifted again from my perch. The light was doused again and I was suddenly moving quickly through the main room of the tavern as fast as ogres could run.A gnome at the front door flung it open as our party approached it. The ogres stopped but I did not.

They released their grips and I was flung out into the night air.

Or rather, flung through the night air and into the arms of Ampratines, who manifested himself while I was mere inches from the cobblestones.

"Unsuccessful?" he said simply, helping me to my feet.

"A small setback," I responded, readjusting my tunic where the ogres had left small claw tears.

"They as good as admitted they had it, and that I should come back in two days time. The lovely Drusilla should be pleased when I give her that news. At least its a start."

"This is horrible," said the lovely Drusilla when I gave her the news. She had been waiting for us at the Wyvern. She seemed a little nervous around Ampi, which was odd because the djinni normally had the ability to remain un.o.btrusive. "Two days is far too late."

"I don't see why," I said simply, "It will probably take a few days for them to pull it out of whatever file drawer they've parked it away in."

"Or to appraise the item and solicit competing bids," said Ampi softly. Drusilla started at the sound of his voice. Then she nodded and put the kerchief to her soft lips again.

I looked up at the genie, "How do you figure that?"

"While I was outside watching the tavern, I noticed that a number of individuals entered by the front door. Elves, dwarves, and gnomes, with an occasional orc or two."

"No humans," I said, agreeing, "The Burrows does not cater to that clientele."

"No halflings, either," said the genie, "even though there were apparently halflings within the bar. I noticed that they used another entrance."

"So they used a shorter door," I said, then stopped. "No, then dwarves and gnomes would use that other door as well. Let's say that this 'other door' was the employees entrance, correct?"

Drusilla looked from one of us to the other, totally out of the loop.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand," she squeaked. It was a very sweet squeak.

"Halflings run the Burrows, which makes sense," I said. "Big Ugly is a shadowy figure whose face is unseen. Indeed, there was a lot of whispering going on while I talked to him. Therefore, Big Ugly is probably a halfling. Or a group of halflings."

"Much like Miss Rodigar-Glenn of Waterdeep," said Ampi. I generously ignored the dig.

"But if this Big Ugly is a halfling," she said. "Why is that a problem?"

"Consider," said the genie, "A halfling has something you want. You tell them you want it. What do they do?"

I thought for a moment, then leaned forward and put my head in my hands, "They'll try to get as much as possible for it."

"They know its valuable?" said Drusilla, her voice rising a half-octave as she said it.

"They know it is valuable to you," said Ampi levelly, "That is all they need to know. The next day will be occupied with them sending out the word and soliciting other bids. Only if they do not get a better offer will they sell it to you in two days time."

"Oh." hiccupped Drusilla, "Oh, its going to be horrible. Daddy will find out I lost the box and that will be the end of everything."

"Perhaps if you could tell us what is in the box...." began Ampratines, but just the thought of Daddy's disappointment set the lovely Drusilla on a longer crying jag. I shot the genie a fell look and he merely nodded and retreated to the hallway. After about five minutes of a.s.suring the girl that everything would be all right and promising to help her recover the box, I sent her out as well. The genie reappeared as she vanished down the hallway.

"If I might suggest-" he began.

"You may not," I snapped, "I think you've worried that poor girl enough."

"Sir, that poor girl is not being entirely honest with you," said the djinni."Anything in particular?" I asked. Drusila had left her kerchief on the drawing table. I picked it up and it smelled of salt and honeysuckle.

"She has a nasty tendency to break down in tears whenever asked a direct question," said the genie. "The smartest move in this particular situation would be to retire from the field in good order and leave her and her family to recover the amber box on their own. Perhaps we might suggest they hire a halfling or gnome to place a bid on her behalf."

I waved the genie's suggestions down. "Objections duly noted and ignored," I said. "No mystorical hero would abandon a woman in need."

Ampi sighed, one of those great genie sighs that threatened to suck all the air out of the room. "As you wish," he said at last, "What will you be doing next?"

"I'm thinking about keeping a watch on the place," I said. "See who goes in and out. Then we'll know who we're bidding against. Yes, that's it."

We returned once more to the Burrows, after I had changed clothes. This time I chose st.u.r.dy leather trousers and a dark s.h.i.+rt. I abandoned the cape for a dark cloak and an oversized black hat with a huge brim to mask my features.

We found a bench across the street from the Burrows, and set up shop there. Ampi took first watch while I retreated under my oversized hat to catch a few winks.

The few winks turned into a full night's sleep, during which nothing much happened. When I awoke the morning sun was making its best attempt to pierce the smoky haze of the Lower City, and Ampi was still standing beside the bench.

"Anything?" I said.

"A lot of non-humans," said Ampi briefly, as if I had picked up a conversational thread abandoned only a few moments before. "Mostly drinkers and revelers. A lot of haiflings through the side door. Three wizards, all of whom were elves. A half-orc barbarian. A couple human merchants, who were turned away at the door. A priest of Gond with three gnomes. Only the gnomes were admitted, then left a few minutes later. A dwarf dressed up as a pasha of Calimshan. A dark elf that might have been a priestess of Loviatar. I could not be sure. All stayed a few moments, then left."

"Interesting," I said, "Conclusions?"

"They are the rival bidders solicited by Big Ugly," said the genie. "The word is being. spread and these are early buyers. They are being shown the merchandise, then they leave. Some will undoubtedly be back."

"No humans," I noted.

"No humans," agreed Ampi.

"Right then," I said. "We keep an eye on the place at least until noon. Then we meet the fair Drusila for lunch and figure out what she wants to bid for her heirloom."

Ampratines was silent at the suggestion, so I prompted, "Yes?"

"With your permission," said the genie, "I would like to investigate in another direction. I know a marid, another genie, in contact with a local sage named Prespos, and I would like to seek that sage's advice as to this situation. Discretely, of course."

I thought about the request for a moment, then nodded. Ampi faded from view immediately, and I sat down again on the bench, waiting for the world to unfold before me.

Morning in the Lower City is a clamorous affair, and the first of the coster caravans were already clattering through the streets. The last of the night wagons were long gone at this hour, replaced by cargo haulers and teamsters, sprinkled with carts of the hand-, dog-, and pony- varieties. And of course all manner of luggers, toters, handlers, and haulers and various day laborers. I thought from my perch I would be able to observe without being observed.

I was wrong. After about half an hour a shadow moved alongside my left. I did not turn my head toward it, but instead dipped my head forward, trying to keep as much of the broad-brimmed hat between me and the new arrival as possible. For all I knew it could be one of the city guard, seeking to roust a malingerer from the main thoroughfares. Or worse yet, a particularly strong ogre. The Burrows was closed at this hour, and there was no sign of life either from the front door or the haifling door to theside. Perhaps, I thought at the time, it would be best to move back to the Wyvern for an early start at lunch.

The shadow's owner, in a wheezing, nasal voice, said, "So, you've seen anything interesting?"

Despite myself, I raised my head slightly, and was rewarded with a nasal laugh that sounded like migrating geese. My cheeks reddening with embarra.s.sment, I looked at the individual addressing me.

He wasn't much to look at. A neat set of leggings and a nondescript tunic, topped with a vest of moderately valuable brocade. A trim, balding head. His eyes, however, were overlarge, made almost monstrous when viewed through his thick spectacles. The latter were like sheets of block crystal and continually slid down his nose. When he talked they would slide further down, necessitating he push them back with a finger. He seemed human, but at best would reach up to my shoulder.

"I said," repeated the little man with the thick lenses. "See anything interesting?"

"Sorry," I tried. "Not from around here."

"Indeed you aren't," said the short man. "Otherwise you'd know that while that outfit was suitable for nighttime surveillance, you stick out like a sore thumb with the light of day."

I scowled at him. In the mystoricals this would have the effect of melting him where he stood, and forcing him to leave me alone. Instead the short human smiled.

"You were watching the Burrows," he said. "I was watching you. Oh, and your tall companion as well, but he's gone. Word has already gone out that the place will be closed for tonight. Private business with Big Ugly. And I think we both know what that means."

I tried scowling again, but the short human remained unmeltable. "Who are you?" I said at last.

"Ah," he said, as if rewarded with my attention, "a response. The first step to a conversation, and from that a lasting relations.h.i.+p. Its always so horrible when no one wants to talk to you."

"Who...?" I began again, but the man waved me silent.

"I heard you the first time," he said with a smile. "I was just enjoying the moment. Call me a collector. A hunter of rare and unique items. Let's say that it has reached my ears that there is a certain item, such as an amber box, that is currently in the possession of the owner of that establishment. And let's say that the owner does not like to deal with individuals such as I."

He meant human. Ampi had mentioned that several humans had been turned away. They were not welcome. I waved for him to continue.

"As a collector," he said, "I would be more than eager to lay my hands on that box and its contents.

And I thought that you might be willing to help me."

"I'm not. . ." I started, but then paused. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Hmmmm, yes," said the little collector, "I don't think you do, at that. I a.s.sumed that you were working for some acc.u.mulator of curios or an enterprising hedge mage. But I think you're involved deeper. You want the amber box as well, for what it is."