"We have the Grand Tower, your worships." the major domo ventured hesitantly, not sure if these extravagant-sounding young men were really what they seemed, or swindlers of some sort attempting to dupe the Silver Castle. Such was not unknown or unusual at a place such as this.

Without an obvious show of coins, Gord managed to display a handful of platinum plates before discovering a gold orb in his purse. Chert had refused to pitch in the money to pull off this ruse, so Gord had been forced to dip into his private funds. He handed the golden coin to the apprehensive manager with a small sigh of resignation.

"Such a bother, this! Here is an advance against our stay. Have a cold supper, Keolsh amber wine, and the usual amenities ready immediately. You do have hot tubs, I presume — and be sure the wine is chilled."

The proprietor's head had been bobbing furiously in all directions as it attempted to provide quick answers to Gord's onslaught of questions. He now hastened to add verbal assurance as well. "Oh, of course, your nobility. The Silver Castle is at your disposal. Rest assured that all will be ready for you and your companion in as brief a time as possible!"

Gord yawned and tapped his foot against a well-polished floorboard in a display of boredom and impatience.

Chert looked down at the anxious fellow, a puzzled frown expertly fixed in place. "Just how long must we wait for your varlets to prepare our suite?"

"We are most efficient, but I fear it will take a small amount of time nonetheless. Please utilize our salon to relax and refresh yourselves. I will personally inform you when all is in readiness."

"Very well, then, my good man. If we have no choice in the matter, then at least show us to the salon." Gord said with an air of resignation.

Seated comfortably in padded armchairs, Gord and Chert sipped wine and pretended indifference to their surroundings.

"What a stupid trick that was," Chert accused in a low voice. "Why not simply ask for the common room or salon? You’ve— "

"Managed to get us both into the place without arousing suspicion as to why we're here!" Gord inserted in an arrogant but hushed tone. "Your way would have alerted everyone that we were come to meet with—"

"The two we'll soon be meeting within minutes anyway! Now we're the focus of attention! All eyes will be on the two flamboyant fools who throw money around and— "

"Happen to meet other travelers," Gord finished. "They are here now, in fact. Let us quit this crap and discourse on matters metaphysical and theological, shall we?"

Chert glared at the small thief and managed a low growl before beginning to converse in a normal tone of voice regarding certain precepts held by worshipers of an unnamed deity.

Gord took an opposite position, countering with acid tongue the assertions that the huge hillman continued to make. They argued back and forth in this manner for several minutes, then Chert turned and seemed to suddenly notice that there were others in the room.

"Now, my not-so-learned friend," he said loudly to Gord," we shall see just who has the better position in this dispute!" With a warm smile and confident beating, the great fellow arose and went to a nearby table where a sober cleric in a dark cloak sat and conversed with a halfling. "My apologies for interrupting you, pious sir and worthy halfling, but my companion and I have been at odds regarding certain tenets of theology and metaphysical constructs that a man of your calling can surely resolve for us. May I impose upon your kindness to mediate and judge our differences? We offer our hospitality in return, of course."

The slender cleric stood and nodded a greeting. "The calling I follow requires my acceptance of such a request and happily so. But do I have your leave to bring my associate along? I would not wish to simply leave him sitting here," the robed man said. Indicating the demi-human.

"But of course! You and he are both welcome. Is this halffing a priestly sort as well?"

Biff sprang from the too-large chair with alacrity. "Allow me to introduce myself and my associate. You are addressing His Faithfulness Poztif, Gleam of Pholtus. I. noble sir, am Biff, a humble gem merchant and pilgrim now, accompanying His Faithfulness to a distant shrine according to a holy vow I made."

Poztif dismissed the importance inferred by the halfling's introduction. "I am a lowly cleric seeking greater understanding and piety. This good fellow has been so kind as to agree to accompany me and assist me in giving instruction and learning patience. Let us join the two of you now. Perhaps the matter can be resolved without undue discourse."

The three debated the question at length in an attempt to create an illusion for anyone who might suspect their purpose, and for the benefit of one patron in particular. As a pilgrim Biff had no part in the talk, so he merely sat there, sipped his stout, and considered the circumstances that had brought him to the inn.

Melf had been elsewhere on business when a message from his cousin, Silverthom, arrived in the city of Fax while the halfling was there awaiting his master's return. Silverthom had written that Melf must come home to Greyhawk at once if he wished to protect some property he had left in her charge. That posed a real dilemma for Biff. Frankly, his master seldom explained his activities to the halfling. Biff was dissatisfied with having to remain inactive and virtually penniless in Fax, cooling his heels as he considered it, while Melf had exciting adventures elsewhere that for reasons the halfling could not fathom, failed to include a halfling with warrior skills and a thief s nimble fingers.

Biff had decided to respond to Silverthorn's urgent missive at once. There was no property of significance to guard in, Fax, merely the small villa that Melf had leased. No objection could be made, the halfling reasoned, for wasn't the need of his cousin and the threat of loss of things Melf had left in her care a sufficient reason for the halfiing to leave his assigned post and hasten to Greyhawk as a surrogate for his absent master? Certainty! Without wasting any more time. Biff had gone northward to the great free city, happy for the opportunity to travel and do something that held the prospect of both danger and reward.

Silverthom had been surprised to see him, but under the circumstances she was pleased enough to have someone on hand to help. The situation, as told by her, was complicated, to say the least.

"You see. Biff, my clever halfling friend, it all started when I went out to seek a little amusement in this dreary city. I met a good-looking fellow — he had elvish blood, of course — who told me that he was also a dweomercraefter, and that he was the trusted henchman of a noble wizard who would happily have me as apprentice until mine own instructor returned." The tale went on and on until Silverthorn finally related how she had been tricked into furnishing a surety to this wizard. It was supposedly proof of her good nature and honesty. Instead, the ring — one that granted invisibility and one of Melf’s favorite possessions — had been stolen by the wily trickster, and she was left without recourse.

Silerthorn told Biff how, while searching to locate the one who had so foully duped her, she had eventually met a holy priest who had offered not only to restore the ring or to give her one of like sort, but to provide other payment as well, if she could enlist the services of her master in a small and righteous undertaking the cleric had need to accomplish. She asked Biff if he could somehow manage to fill in for Melf.

"I am a faithful and obedient vassal," the halfling had assured the frantic young Sitverthorn. "If I can restore Melfs property, uphold his name, and assist you, fair lady, all at the same time, how can I do else but agree to take up the challenge?"