"Absolutely not!"
"But-"
"Oh I believe you, so far as you went," the woman said. She looked rather attractive in her seriousness as she spoke. Gord smiled at her, and she smiledback. "My name is Summer. What are you called?"
As golden-haired and blue-eyed as she was, he thought it a good name. "I am Gord, but all of this is a waste of time."
"No it isn't, Gord. I have to make a decision as to whether or not I am going to help or hinder you. This is part of that decision."
The young thief was growing exasperated. He nearly clenched his teeth as he whispered, "My life is at stake in all this. Why don't you just go back to bed and leave me be? Let me get on with my affairs, and I’ll leave you to yours."
Summer was obviously amused at Gord's seriousness. It wasn't that she didn't believe him, but his inability to handle this unexpected situation was beginning to become funny. Just as she laughed softly and started to speak, a commotion in the hall silenced her.
"On the morrow, my friends," a voice called.
Two other voices responded with farewells, and footsteps sounded as the pair headed for the ground floor. Gord knew it was Maust and the fat fellow. He arose, but Summer pushed him aside and opened the door of her room before the young thief could stop her.
"I'll see about delaying the proprietor and those who may be with him while you question the man you suspect," she whispered hurriedly and then slipped out the door.
Gord couldn't believe his ears, but he didn't hesitate. "Luck!" he whispered to her. Summer turned and smiled, and her lips formed a little kiss as she headed after the departing visitors. Not bothering to watch her leave, the young adventurer turned to the door to Kesterin's chamber. It was locked, but the mechanism was the same as that which was on the other door. After silently manipulating the lock, Gord tried pushing open the portal softly. The occupant must have trusted his ability to hide successfully more than barriers, for no other bar stood between him and Gord. With a feeling of satisfaction, Gord swung the door open and stepped into Kesterin's quarters.
"How dare you—"
The startled expostulation was cut short by the fellow himself as he darted to reach his hanger. The small sword was slung over the bedpost, but he was so fast that he almost succeeded in drawing it before Gord reached him, knocking the grasping hand away and putting dagger point to chest. "I dare much, Kesterin. I am Gord, the man your dead lover Basil helped to cozen and swindle."
"What have I to do with that? Stop threatening me, or allow me to arm myself and I'll gladly oblige you in a contest of honor."
Gord grudgingly accorded the fellow courage in addition to the respect he had already mentally given to Kesterin's quickness. Neither, however, mattered a jot now. "Not a chance. You will speak all you know about the matter of Xestrazy, Ageelia, Basil, and myself now. If you don't, there will be no need for you to flee Greyhawk to avoid the killer who seeks you, for I'll do the job before he can!"
Kesterin grew very pale at that. "You know I am a marked man, then ... as are you, Gord," the fellow added. With urgent sincerity, Kesterin said, "Come, Gord the hunted thief, set aside whatever course you follow now and leave the city with me tomorrow. I have means and a sure way to pass undetected. Once well away I will give you half of the money I have, if you wish, and you can go your own way. I care nothing for killers and dead men. I mean to live!"
"Then stop babbling of other things, and tell me all you know of the plot, or I vow I’ll send you on a journey to the other planes here and now."
"You are a fool," Kesterin said with a shrug, "but if you choose to ignore my offer and die, that is your affair. A waste, but what the hell?" The man made a wry face and began telling what he knew.
"Basil was approached by a man calling himself Raynald. Basil didn't tell me much, you know. From what I overheard, though, and from Basil's comments, I think that the Thieves Guild and the Assassins Guild were both bent on defrauding someone — you, I suppose — and there was more to the plan, too. Basil wasn't sure about the latter, but he suspected that the whole hoodwinking operation was only a part of something bigger. He said they needed lots of cash in a hurry."
"Lots of cash," Gord mused. "What would they need lots of cash for?"
"Basil said they needed to buy the services of some very influential people — that much he did pick up from snatches of conversation he overheard," Kesterin offered.
"Anything else?"
"That's truly all I know."
"You never saw anyone other than this Raynald?"
"No. He and Basil were the only ones."
Gord was stymied. Then he demanded, "What did Raynald took like?"
A distant look came into Kesterin's eyes. "I only saw him once, and let me tell you I was jealous! Raynald is as beautiful as a demigod, I'll tell you. His hair is bright yellow, and his body is wonderful! He's taller than I even, and his smile is enough to set your heart pitter-patting. I warned Basil—"
"Were his eyes greenish?" Gord demanded.
"Well. . . yes, sort of. I'd call them hazel."
Gord was silent for a moment. Then he asked.
"What were the professor and the other fat man doing in here a while ago? Are they part of this?"
"No — at least I hope not!" Kesterin said.
"Then what was their business here?"
"They're just personal friends — you know, a man cant have too many— "
"Never mind! I'm sorry I asked!" Gord snapped, and then he suddenly remembered something. "His left arm — did Raynald have a curved scar on his left forearm?"
Just then there were shouts and cries from below. The bedlam caused Gord to turn involuntarily to see if someone would come through the door. Kesterin took the opportunity to act. In the moment that Gord's distraction allowed, the fellow grabbed his sword and had it drawn before the young adventurer could prevent it. Backing away from Gord's dagger, sword before him, Kesterin grinned and said, "Enough of this cross-examination now, Gord dearest. You have all I know. I'm going to leave this place now. Will you come with?"
Gord shook his head, grim-faced. "The scar?"
Kesterin slung his cloak over his shoulders one-handed. "Perhaps. ... I don't really recall," he replied as he grabbed a pair of saddlebags with his left hand and headed for the shuttered window. "I'm glad you don't want to fight, Gord. It would be a pity to damage your good looks. Perhaps we'll meet again under more friendly conditions. Until then, try to stay alive." As he fumbled the shutters open and went through the opening, he added, "And do blow a kiss to that dirty old Maust from me!" Then Kesterin was gone, laughing, into the night.
It would have been easy for Gord to pursue him, but the young thief didn't bother. He'd learned everything the fellow knew, probably, and Summer might be in desperate straits downstairs. Why he should worry about someone who had given him so much difficulty, a woman he had only met minutes ago, Gord didn't know. She had gone to help him, and she had done something helpful indeed. He had never thought to have time for such extensive questioning of Kesterin. Now he'd repay her.