Basiliv the Demiurge spoke then. "You have been destined to become the sole one able to contest with the greatest of evil beings, Gord. While your kin squabbled over who was to become the chief heir to Rexfelis's domain, and the powers of evil hatched their plots to find and gather the Theorparts, you went about your own business. Unknown and unknowing, you were tried and tested, heated, hammered, forged, and tempered to become the weapon of all who deny evil."
There are many of Balance far stronger than I — even with what you have given to me." Gord stated this as a fact, not meaning to be argumentative.
True. Even had all of us nobles of Balance been present at the conclave, and all bestowed all the force they could upon you, still there would be others stronger than you. I do not know how to explain the state of affairs, save to say that the foretelling is what it is."
Gord gave up on that line of thought and turned back to Rexfelis. Tell me more about my father and mother," he said.
"First," said the Catlord, "the box." Gord knew immediately what Rexfelis was referring to — not his magical carry-all, but the battered wooden coffer he carried within it. Gord had been keeping it safe, either in his possession or carefully hidden somewhere in the city of Greyhawk, ever since claiming it as a child. Old Leena, the brutal, cantankerous woman who served as his guardian during his early youth, had kept the box away from him and even taunted him with her possession of it — because she had somehow known that it and its contents were meant for him instead of her. She had learned, quite accidentally, how to open it, but she had never imparted that information to Gord, and he was only able to get it away from her after she died in her bed one day.
"It is carefully dweomered," Rexfelis continued. "Speak either your mother's or your father's name while holding it, and it will open to reveal its contents." Unbeknownst to Gord, this was why old Leena had been able to open it, at least partially. Her name was quite similar to the name of Gord's real mother — and, as it turned out, there was a minor flaw in the first stage of the magical protection surrounding the box. Thus, she could get the main compartment open by saying "Leena," but because she never voiced the full word "Ataleena," she never knew of the real treasure hidden beneath the container's false bottom. "Inside you will find portraits of your parents and a history of what they had done, written in the language of catfolk. Your father even said therein that he hoped you would not fail the coming tests."
"He knew what I was to become?"
"Perhaps. The document Is not exactly clear, but It gives hints. Read it when we are done here, and then Judge for yourself." Rexfelis held up a hand to keep Gord from responding to that and added one more vital fact. "Beneath a secret panel, which is opened by saying the same name a second time, you will find a necklace containing nine black sapphires." The Cat-lord allowed himself a thin smile as he said that.
"Are they... ?" Gord asked, barely able to contain his anticipation. They must be the same ones, he thought in answer to his own unvoiced question — the same ones he had risked his life to regain during his time In the Land of Shadow and then been forced to relinquish In order to leave that eerie place.
Not even Rexfelis knew the full history of these gems. They had been in the coffer when old Leena had held it, but had been magically removed from the container a few years after her death as the box lay buried In a secret place in Greyhawk. When Gord came back from one of his adventures and reclaimed the box, he had no way of knowing that its contents had been tampered with in the meantime by sorcerous forces aligned with those that had been trying to discover and destroy Gord. Fortunately for him, the box was not under magical surveillance when he returned to Greyhawk and dug it up; by that time, the search for him had gone in another direction, and the box was forgotten about, thought to be unimportant.
The sapphires were eventually set into a glorious necklace, and the piece of Jewelry was so highly treasured that it ended up as the property of a high priest of Nerull. Then it was subsequently acquired by one of the major denizens of Shadowland, a terrible lich-creature called Imprimus. It was this evil being whom Gord vanquished in order to gain the sapphires for himself. He had thought of them only occasionally since using them to gain egress from Shadowland, and had not really expected to see them again.
"Yes, the sapphires are back inside the coffer, Gord, as you will see when you examine the box. The necklace which they are again formed into is your badge of royalty, bequeathed to you by your father. It proclaims its wearer as the Prince of the Ninth House, the Prince of Panthers. The sapphires have traveled far and wide over the years, but they have really always been your property — yours to keep, yours to use some day."
Rexfelis paused, but Gord was at a loss for what to say. He had taken in so much information so rapidly that he simply did not know how to comment or what to ask. He did not understand how the gems could have been placed inside the box without his knowledge, but he had long known that the workings of magic were beyond his ability or his desire to comprehend. Then the Catlord continued, seemingly anxious to disclose the rest of what he cared to reveal.
The ring I gave you was also left to you by your father. Karal himself would have kept it, I think, had he been sure of surviving long enough to see you wear it. There is a little more I can tell, but this is not the time. Suffice to say that regardless of other events, the Ninth House will attain the rule of all the feline kingdom if you survive, Gord. In fact, I would abdicate to you at this moment, save that it would avail neither of us anything. Destiny has removed much from our hands."
The Demiurge took over at this point, for it seemed difficult for the Catlord to continue. "We lords of Neutrality are in a poor position, you see, and in comparison to those who surround us we are quite weak. The rulers of the hells alone outnumber us ten to one, and few of us are stronger than the greatest of those dukes. What you saw at the gathering represents barely half of those with enough power to have a hand in charting the course of Balance. Some others are bound to their own elements and see naught but the eternity of that. A few contest with the upper planes, some others fend off total order or wild randomness as needs be. Some are fully engaged in the physical struggle against the forces of the Abyss or Hades or the hells' legions. And some are... gone." Basiliv looked at Gord briefly, then continued. "If all of the Lords of Balance took the field, that would free a far greater number of our opponents to contest against our presence. That would spell our doom. If your grandfather—"
"That is properly great-grandfather," Rexfelis harrumphed in interjection.
"If your great-grandfather, or I, or some other should try alone, then the evil ones would know immediately and send two or more of their own mightiest ones to stop us. There is no other way save what we have told you. You are unknown now, your sudden increase in power unsuspected by the enemy. And you play chess well, I hear."
"I play several sorts of chess fairly well." Gord acknowledged, "and
at
many forms of the game too." Those last words were delivered with a sidelong glance toward Rexfelis, as Gord recalled the times the Catlord had bested him in one or another obscure forms of the game.
"Yes, just so," the Demiurge said with a smile. "You understand that the value of a piece is in its power of movement and area of command. In this so-called game, though, we must also deal with the fact that not every piece can exert pressure upon any opposing contestant. A pawn is powerless against a minor piece, a minor piece of no use against a greater piece.
"In this play there are many grades of pawns, levels of minor pieces, and ranks of major ones. Unless near-parity exists, the lesser cannot prevail against the greater, and the more powerful will usually succeed in slaying the weaker. Time and again you have done for one or other of the evil pieces — humans, monsters, demons. Still, the enemy cannot reckon properly what you are. When you move into the main field again as the champion sent by Balance, none will recognize your true powers until too late — we hope! If that is so, then you will become the second most powerful figure in the multiverse."
The second?"
"Tharizdun is the first," Basiliv said heavily.
"And I must then seek out that one?"
"If you attain to the second station, Prince Gord," the Demiurge assured him, "you will have no need to seek out the Absolute Darkness. He will find you."
"How can I hope to succeed?" The young man looked from Catlord to the Demiurge questioningly.
"The Master of Nothingness and All has sided with us," Basiliv stated after hesitating. "That one is perhaps now the second-greatest force in the multiverse, but you must always beware such a being, just as one watches the scorpion."
"Why be so enigmatic about him or it? I must have information!"
"No more can be said," Basiliv replied. "You will know in time, if that is given to any of us. If I speak too much, I might distort the foretelling."
"Nonsense!" It was evident from his expression that Rexfelis disagreed with Basiliv's last statements, but it had not been the Catlord who had spoken just now. The voice had come from a shadowy corner.
"Shadowking?" Gord asked uncertainly.
"No," the slow and icy voice answered from yet another location in the chamber. "Master Entropy — at your service, prince and champion."
That made Gord start. "You are of ultimate chaos!"
"Never. I will consume the wild motion, eliminate randomness as I do order, wipe out death by removing life, burn out life and slay darkness into nothing. I am truly neutral, the actual balance of all. I am nothingness and everything — in their proper states."
"Beware!" Rexfelis and Basiliv spoke in unison, but Gord ignored both of them.
"How will you help?" he asked the unseen figure.
"My aid comes now in the form of information. One of your most important tools is a sword. Many of your fine associates will appreciate the weapon and its forms. You have it now, the dark blade you brought from the buried capital of the forgotten realm of the Suloise."
"I own it indeed," Gord admitted, "but it is of no special value."
"More than you suppose," the nothingness countered. "Still, the sword is not all it can be, on that point I agree." Was there mockery in the voice? Gord wasn't certain.
"You will assist me in making it truly potent?"
"I have already, by giving you this knowledge. This has been most painful, prince and champion, for it defies all I stand for and drains my particular force cruelly," Master Entropy Intoned monotonously, as if speaking to a slow and measured beat. "There is no more I shall say, no more I can do. Now. Gord, all is in your hands."
With that, the presence of the strange being faded away. Basiliv and Rexfelis, seeming to take their cues from that occurrence, silently rose from their seats. Gord did the same, and moments later was alone in his chamber.
* * *
Elsewhere, elsewhen, the tides of evil weakened in their surge, and the men of the kingdoms and nations of Oerth who opposed the dark and wicked pushed their enemies back a little, slaughtering many in so doing. Stalemate positions occurred in the netherworld, and the great war being fought in the Abyss raged, but neither side advanced.
Master Entropy was at work. Creation and life — vitality even of demoniacal or negative sort — slipped away into nothingness. Nothingness grew and was strengthened, and was content.
"We are lost," the Demiurge said lamentably when he, Rexfelis, and Gord reconvened a few hours later — hours during which weeks of time had passed on Oerth. "Now truly are we placed between the void and the bottomless pit!" Rexfelis nodded and looked grim. What Basiliv said was too true, and there seemed to be no escape. Entropy was perhaps better, if nonexistence of anything but nothingness could be accepted by those who were sentient. "Never should we have accepted Master Entropy, not in an eternity of days!"
"Lost or not. I have much to do," Gord said energetically. "Time will decide if that one is to triumph or not, but if I am to believe what I have been told, it is up to me to face and defeat Tharizdun." He spat as he said that name. "What can you tell me of the power of the sword Master Entropy spoke of?"
"I am as unaware of that as you, Gord," Rexfelis replied. "Basiliv?"
"Would I could be of assistance," the Demiurge said. "Perhaps if I could see the weapon and spend a little time examining its aura...."
There will be a bit of time for that, my old friend," Rexfelis said. "Gord will soon be presented to all of my subjects, including the peers who are his kinsfolk. There will be a short ceremony, longer speeches, and much growling of useless sort. I will name him first of all our sort after me before he sets forth on the mission we have for him."
"I will certainly stay for two reasons, then," Basiliv said, mustering up a weak smile. "Let us see the dark blade now, for soon we will be too busy for anything except such work as we need accomplished." Basiliv and the Catlord turned expectantly to Gord, both casting their gazes toward the scabbard at his waist. Gord's face was blank.
"Well? Bring forth the blade!" the Demiurge said.
"This is not it," Gord said, touching the sheath. "The sword that Master Entropy spoke of is hidden aboard
Silver Seeker,
and where that ship is I can't tell you," he said sadly.
Chapter 4
"WE ARE NOW MOORED In Safetons deep harbor, pious brother."
The bent old cleric looked up with weak, rheumy eyes from the prayerbook he was reading. "Thank you, shipmaster, but please call me simply Brother Donnur. 'Pious' is too worthy an honorific for a mendicant pilgrim," the ancient fellow added gravely.
"Of course," the captain of the little trading vessel said quickly. Then he turned and hurried above. Despite the priest's gentle demeanor and kindly ways, there was something about him that Shipmaster Rench found disquieting. "Ah, balls." the sailor muttered to himself. "Likely nothin' more than the fact I'm a lost and wicked heathen, it is." Nonetheless, Rench would be glad to see the back of the old cleric's dirty brown robe as the man went down the gangplank of his ship.