"By the by," Biff said. "I am so chagrined at my display of cowardice when the dragon thrust its claws forth that I am unable to face the shame."
The others reassured him, stating bluntly that he had performed most heroically.
"Nonetheless," the somewhat sheepish halfling said, "I am not proud. Do I have your oaths that this whole adventure will never be related to my master?" When the others readily accepted Biffs proposed vow, the little fellow's face was adorned with a smile. "Now I feel happy," he told them.
The party went quickly away, avoiding the area around the inn where they had met a few hours earlier. In a dim lane they split up, each taking his own path. Poztif, clothing enwrapping the Five Dragon Bowl, bid the errant halfling adieu and left immediately. Obviously Biffs conversion would have to wait. Gord and Biff chatted for a moment, then Chert grew too weary of dawdling and went off alone.
"I want my share of that fifth gem!" Biff said as the barbarian disappeared into the black mouth of an alley.
"Come to my place tomorrow night. I'll have that much in coin ready for you then," Gord replied in a casual tone.
Biff set his lips firmly. "In an afanc's ass!"
"You may arrive via any mode of transportation you like!" Gord responded sarcastically.
"I’ve got a good idea!" Biff said urgently. "Ill give you my two stones, and you give me that dagger of yours!"
"Up your hairy nose, shorty!"
"Okay, how about if I kick in all the rest of the ju- er, stuff I got tonight?"
"No way!" Gord said with haughty disdain. "Not even with your blade tossed in!"
"If it comes to it, I'm telling you I'm ready to fight for my due," Biff told the young man defiantly.
"Okay then, how about a contest — or, better yet, a bet?" Gord suggested.
"Like what?"
"How's this? I'll bet you your half of the emerald against my half that I can jump higher than that building across the lane!"
"With or without the load of loot in your arms?" Biff asked thoughtfully.
"Okay. . Even with all this loot weighing me down, I can jump higher than that building."
"That's a crock of cockatrice crap! I'll be happy to take the bet." the halfling said in a gloating tone. The building is forty feet tall or I’m a goblin!"
"I'm willing to try. Is it a deal?"
"Sure! Let's shake on it."
Each took the hand of the other and shook it vigorously, after which Gord hopped a few inches off the ground and landed in the same spot where he had been standing moments earlier.
"Okay, pay up! I won!" Gord said.
"Whaaaat? Are you trying to tell me, after that unimpressive little display, that you just jumped higher than that building?"
"Of course — and it wasn't hard, considering that buildings don't jump at all," Gord cried happily, laughing and hopping around like a crazy man. Then he gave his opponent a hearty clap on the back and began to walk away. "The stone's mine, Biffo-buddy. See you around."
After a while, when Biff finally managed to close his mouth, he busied himself by kicking at everything small in sight as he wended his way back to Silverthorn's place through the back streets and dark byways of Greyhawk. He'd been had by that miserable human, but he wasn't actually too bad off. What he'd taken from the shop was worth a fair sum, and the pair of huge gems in his belt's secret pouch would supply him with all the cash he could spend for some time.
In fact since Gord had been the first to discover that a large replica of a gem appeared in the bottom of the bowl when the correct stone was placed in the claw of a certain color of dragon, he had to admit that the human actually did deserve the odd, fifth gem. Biff giggled softly as he thought about the magic of the bowl. Would it work again to produce another set of fantastic stones? He doubted it, and at the same time wondered why Yeo had been apparently unaware of the treasure he possessed.
"Old Melf won't ever know about any of this," he chortled to himself as he hurried along. "Now let's see just how grateful Silverthorn can be for my services. . "
Twistbuck's Game
The last time it had happened Gord had run for his life, laughing all the while. This time the reaction was the same.
"Treacherous little trickster!" the big barbarian bawled. "I'll split that scheming skull of yours in two!"
As Chert charged head first, elbows tight at his sides and fists raised, the supple young thief flipped sideways, avoiding the rush. The barbarian thudded into the wall, rebounded and fell sprawling over the table. No construction of mere wood could withstand such an impact. With a groan, the table's legs spread outward and its top split with a sharp crack. Chert's roar of outrage as he struck the floor drowned out the cracking and splintering noise of the sundered oak, but Gord's laugh pierced the din.
"I think I’ll go out for a while, old comrade!" the young thief called loudly, still laughing uproariously. "After all, I have a few coins to dispose of now, thanks to you!" So saying, Gord danced nimbly over to where two stacks of copper and silver coins were piled, scooped them off the top of the tall chest, and sped out the door of the dwelling. As he went down the lane. Chert's roars could clearly be heard despite the closed door. Exactly what the brawny hillman was threatening Gord wasn't sure, but it undoubtedly concerned the young thiefs limbs — and anything else that could be chopped or torn off.
"Such a poor loser," Gord clucked in mock disgust as he clinked the coins together in his palm. The amount of money was paltry, a mere hundred bronze zees in total. But the wager had been fair, after all, and it wasn't Gord's fault that Chert had been too slow-witted to detect his friend's ruse. "Well, no matter, by the time I finish spending the winnings," the crafty thief assured himself, "he will have cooled off, I hope." At the cost of one zee for a small mug of beer, the money would soon be gone. And since wine was even more expensive, and he fully intended to drink some now that he could afford it, his winnings would dwindle even faster. "If Chert had any sense of humor, I would have allowed him to help drink my winnings," Gord said, shaking his head as he carelessly tossed a coin in the air and quickly retrieved it. "Oh well, more for me!" Whistling a jaunty tune, the young thief strolled off to see what was going on along the Strip.
Meanwhile Chert was grinding his teeth and surveying the wreckage in the small quarters he and Gord shared. They had recently acquired an abandoned shop on a disused lane in the trade sector of the River Quarter. It had been easily converted into lodgings by expending a few silver nobles for labor and materials. The shutters chosen for the front windows made the place seem deserted still, a definite necessity for someone in Gord's and Chert's line of work. After making a few additions to the furniture that had come with the place, the two had themselves a fine apartment. Of course, Gord talked Chert into taking the third floor while the young thief had installed his sleeping quarters on the second. The ground floor was their lounge, with the little back room serving as kitchen and dining room in one. Neither of them cooked nor ate at home often anyway.
"It's the principle of the thing!" Chert exclaimed aloud, talking to the walls. "A friend shouldn't use sharper's methods to win bets from a pal!" Screw it — let Gord clean up the mess, the big hillman told himself as he stomped up the narrow steps leading to his quarters. The wooden planks groaned and creaked in complaint at his weight and the force he angrily put into each step, but Chert ignored the warnings and the worn steps somehow managed to withstand the assault. At the top of the long flight, the still-fuming barbarian slammed and locked the door that made the upper story his private domain. "At least that foxy little thief doesn't steal directly from me," Chert said as he went to the place where he hid his wealth. "But then again, he doesn't exactly know where I keep it."