The hot sun was still at Gord's back on this last day of Richfest. He was already across the river and heading west before the great ball of flre neared its zenith. A fine forenoon. Gord whistled as he rode along the highway to Dyvers. Soon enough he'd be leaving this well-traveled road with its lines of carts and wagons, pack animals and herders with flocks of kine, sheep, goats, and swine. Drovers and caravans, teamsters and travelers plied this artery between the two great free cities of Greyhawk and Dyvers. The distance was some hundred or more miles between the two, and that trade that didn't use the roundabout way of the Nyr Dyv's waters followed this highway to conduct its intercourse. The road dipped southward to the edge of the Gnarley Forest where herdsmen and foresters dwelled. Then it swung northward again to run near the wave-pounded verge of the beaklike, westernmost arm of the Lake of Unknown Depths. There, where the Nyr Dyv received the mighty tribute of the Velverdyva's flood, stood the great free city on the lake's shore, Dyvers, merchant prince of the lake.
South of this busy, commercial artery, the countryside was far different Gentle hills and long valleys lay there, and the huge old trees of the Gnarley thinned and made meadows here and there that were breathtakingly lovely. Little brooks and clear streams ran through the vales and woodlands, and tiny thorps and small hamlets snuggled in dells or among the forest's outflung groves and copses. Verdant fields and fruit-laden orchards hid there, with stretches of virgin forest and wild thickets between and around.
Wars and battles didn't plunge into this land. The armies of Greyhawk and Dyvers had clashed often enough, contesting for the territory that lay be~-tween their metropolises, but they stuck to the open regions bordering the Nyr Dyv. for not only did neither desire to ravage the fertile places from which wealth flowed to each, but the woodlands were no place for formed troops. Besides, the folk who dwelled there were formidable warriors, and their wrath would mean delay and loss to any invader. Bandits, brigands, and outlaws there were aplenty. Should the attention of such men be turned from the flowing traffic above to the communities below, village militia and woodsmen warriors, silent sylvan elves, or the gnomes of the forest — or more than one of these groups in alliance — would cut short the depredations of the foolish raiders. Dangling corpses and displayed heads offered ample discouragement for the wiser of the freebooters.
Into these lands the stallion plunged with Gord astride, still whistling and singing happily. He had been here several times before, and his anticipation was high now, for he found the country charming and the folk hospitable enough if they were treated courteously. After having paused during the hottest hours of the day to eat a lunch of cheese and bread, washed down with the heady green wine of Celene, he had saddled the stallion again and continued on along the side track that ran southwest from the highway. Blue Murder pranced and snorted as he had done at dawn, rested and refreshed from the two hours Gord had allowed him. The horse had torn great clumps of the thick, green grass to feed itself, cropping only the choicest morsels, and drinking as it wished from a nearby rivulet. A whinnying roll, a shake of the great neck, and more grazing. The stallion was ready for anything!
"So, Murder, you are as anxious as I am to get to our destination!" Gord laughed, giving the great horse its head. The stallion had covered forty miles before noon, and here he was ready to gallop on for yet more. "You are a valiant destrier, you are. Blue Murder! Were I a cavalier, you'd have your own chambers within my castle's tower!" The stallion nodded its head, muscular neck rippling, as if in agreement.
The byways and cart tracks that meandered over hill and through woodland led to the little communities of Gnarhrergia. as some named the region. It was large, two or three thousand square miles, in fact with a populace that would bow neither to Greyhawk nor Dyvers. Minstrels, jongleurs, bear-wards, and troupes of other entertainers detoured through the region when going between the free cities, and not a few spent the sweltering months of Midsummer to High Summer's end in the shaded villages and hamlets of Gnartvergia. Along with them came gypsy wagoneers, young wanderers, and well-to-do folk who owned cottages or villas on a stream or lake. The influx of folk made things most interesting. Coupled with the fair lasses of the region, and the excellent ales and stouts brewed there, it was no wonder that Gord was eager to arrive at his destination. Another, lesser steed would have taken a day and a half to reach the village where the young thief planned to holiday. The blue roan made it just as the last, purplish light was fading into the vast expanse of forest to the west.
Gawkes Mere was a busy little village. The lake that accompanied it was quite large and deep, and boasted a score of islands that thrust abruptly from the placid mirror of the mere. These islets, along with a portion of the lake's hauntingfy beautiful shore, served to accommodate dozens of cottages of substantial sort and villas of even larger stature that gave seasonal dwelling to those affluent enough to come to the place and stay. The wealthy of Dyvers and Greyhawk did so. but mingled little. Northward, and along the wilder banks to the west, less desirable folk lived and like sort visited them.
There was superb hunting, and the waters of the area teemed with game fish; so even the most discriminating of visitors occasionally roamed these rougher tracts too. Olgers Bend, the main village in the wild region, stood on the banks of the Silvern Stream, outlet to the lake, and but two or so leagues from Gawkes Mere. Between these two villages was a twisting road, a narrow and rutted lane actually. Halfway along the six miles of this track's length there stood a hostel, the inn of the Brothers of the One and Score, while scattered near the road but tucked from sight were a number of huts and dwellings of those who lived and traded along this quasi-borderland.
Perhaps there had once been some mystic significance to the name of the inn. Possibly it had once been a hostel of benevolent sort to provide food and shelter to weary and needful travelers. Gord didn't know. He did think it an amusing place, though, for one such as he who was weary of crowded cities and the stilted rituals of courtship practiced by the women of Greyhawk. Few were the fine airs, courtly pretense, and stilted conversations at this inn. And it was exactly what Gord intended to visit first. Gord reined Blue Murder to a halt, whistled for a stable boy, and pulled the saddlebags from the stallion's back.
"Cool him down, rub his coat dry. and give him good oats ere you stall and hay him." the young thief admonished the boy. "His name is Blue Murder, but he's a noble stallion with a good, if fiery, disposition when handled right. You treat him that way, bucko, and I'll see you get another of these when I depart!" Gord finished by sailing a bright coin toward the silent lad.
"Bless you, grafting!" the stable boy exclaimed when he peered closely and saw that the coin was a whole copper common instead of just a bronze zee.
He always hoped for the latter but usually got nothing but brass bits, which were a dozen to the zee. This was too good to be real. He was rich! The lad hurried to care for the horse, and Gord strolled toward the inn.
"Grafling ... I'd forgotten that honorific," the young man mused aloud. He'd actually heard it but once or twice, and only in the Gnarhrerge. When he first inquired about it, he'd been told it was an old title of respect that came somewhere between 'sir' and 'lord'. "And he delivered it with blessings, too!" Gord recalled with a smile. "This portends well for me."
As Gord neared the rambling structure, its size became more evident. From the road it appeared rather small and unlmposing. Parts of it ran off unseen, blocked from view by the foremost edifice, and other parts were concealed by downslope and greenery.