Footsteps sounded as the voice trailed off. Someone, presumably the Medegian, was certainly moving about, viewing the wealth of magical things to be found above. There was a dragging sound, followed by more muffled conversation. Then all was quiet for a full minute, and Bolgar became uneasy. "What's going on up there?" he said to the hunchback.
The Grand Wizardess is probably seeing that the items your lord selected are properly wrapped," the cripple replied without turning.
This didn't seem to relieve Bolgar's sense of unease. "Lord Hewstein, is all well?" the guardsman cried loudly, approaching the stairway once again.
"Silence! I will be down in just a moment, and you will need all your strength to carry the many burdens I will bring with me. Stand ready at the stairs."
Bolgar stationed himself near the doorway, his back to Gord's vantage point, and Gord peered intently at the opening. A few seconds later, booted legs and the hem of a robe appeared. It seemed it was the Medegian after all, coming carefully down the stairs, one cautious step at a time. Soon the reason for the slow progress was apparent. The merchant's upper torso and face were obscured by arm-clasped bundles.
What to do? Gord considered his choices in a split-second. He could rush forth and deal with the immediate opposition. Bolgar and all, easily. It would be simple to take the Medeglan's valuables and the magical items too. dash down the stairs, find the means to open the door, and escape. The trouble with that was twofold: First, he'd have only a small part of the sum he needed, and another servant of the Overking would simply step forward and pay over the money to purchase Ageelia. Second, the wizardess would be angry at this intrusion and might be able to do something nasty before Gord could find the secret catch on the lower door.
Before he could assess his next option, an attempt at looting the wizardess herself, the bundles being carted down the stairs tumbled to the floor. Bolgar made one move forward as the items began hitting the floor, then froze in his tracks and turned gray.
Gord blinked and shook his head: no, he wasn't seeing things. Bolgar stood stock still before his eyes — a solid, unmoving shape of gray stone, fortunately positioned between Gord's vantage point and the form of the Medegian. Just as the boot-clad feet moved to step around the gray-hued form, Gord turned his eyes away from the sight - not wishing to look upon that which could turn a man to stone. But he need not have worried, because the figure had drawn up a hood that obscured its — her? — true appearance.
"I have veiled myself, Pledd. Turn around and open your eyes," a throaty, female voice spoke in a sensual contralto. Hearing this. Gord also looked toward the figure who spoke, but kept himself concealed. The female removed a vial from a pocket in her robe and handed it to the hunchback. "Drink this strength potion, then remove the remains to my chamber now," she said. There was a faint chorus of hissing accompanying the order.
"Yes, mistress." came the hunchback's giggled reply. He quickly drank the liquid and then approached the petrified form.
Without a sound, Gord crept to a place near the stairs leading below, crouched, and peered cautiously under the hem of the tapestry. The crook-back's mistress, the so-called wizardess, was surety nothing other than a medusa. The position of her feet indicated she was directing her gaze elsewhere, and the young thief dared to raise the hem of the hanging to get a full view of the place. He was still in no immediate danger, for her hood was set in place. Pledd casually picked up the stone form of Bolgar and tossed his former tormentor over a deformed shoulder. "Hasten, you fool!" hissed the false wizardess. "That potion is quick to wear off, and you'll find yourself crushed by your burden if you're not quick about it." The cripple picked up his pace and bounded lightly toward the stairs.
"While you are carting that above, I will divide the spoils," the medusa said seductively. Your share will be left on the stand, as usual."
The hunchback indicated his cheerful appreciation as he disappeared up the stairs. He was indeed as strong as ten healthy men! His amused mistress continued watching, but in a moment Gord knew she would turn to examine and divide the valuables that were formerly the property of the Fastaal Trevan, late henchman of the Exalted Holiness of Medegia. It was now or never; without further hesitation, the young thief acted.
Moving with animal reflexes, Gord sprang to his feet and used his enchanted dagger to slash through the arras at head-height. The sound alerted the medusa to his presence, causing her to turn around. But as she threw back the hood that obscured her deadly gaze, Gord grasped a piece of wall hanging and used it as a shield. When the medusa attempted to move sideways and Hank her advancing adversary, the young thief hurled the cloth across the intervening space. The material landed where he had aimed it. settling over the medusa and covering her from crown to waist. The creature shrieked horribly and tore at the stuff that covered her, but Gord was far too quick. He leaped forward, and his sword and dagger flashed — once, twice, thrice. Then the covering was off, red-stained now.
The monster's snaky pate was hissing and writhing in anger and pain, with red eyes nearly bulging from her snarling visage as she sought to fix her tormentor with her petrifying stare.
But the devious thief was already elsewhere. A leap, a tumbling roll, and a catlike recovery brought him to where the room's chandelier was fastened by a chain to its central position overhead. With a mighty hack, the long, thick-bladed dagger severed the bronze links. The chandelier plummeted down, and the pain-maddened medusa had all she could do to avoid its fall. The chamber was now dark, save for the light spilling down the stairs from the room above, and Gord noted that even that illumination was virtually shut off by the blocky form of Pledd shambling down to assist his mistress. No matter; Gord needed no light, for his sword enabled him to see well enough in absolute blackness. Not knowing this, the medusa screamed her awful rage again and leaped to grapple with her opponent. She thought to grasp Gord and hold him fast while the asplike growths that were her hair sent their venom surging into the slender human form, which would then blacken and die in agony.
"Yargh!" Gord exclaimed in horror as he perceived the medusa's intent. While holding forth the dagger in his left hand to fend off her grasping lunge, the young adventurer swung his sword instinctively in an arc from right to left. Its blade sheared off the mass of thumb-thick, writhing ex-crescencies as a scythe cuts ripe grain. The combination of parry and thrust was sufficient to keep the monster off him and bring an end to the contest. With a final, gut-wrenching screech, the medusa fell to the floor, stone dead.
"What's happened?" Pledd asked loudly as he reached the bottom of the stairs and squinted into the near-darkness. He was standing in the doorway, his twisted form silhouetted by the descending light Before coming back from the chamber above, he had acquired a double-headed flail. He swung the spiked heads of the weapon back and forth blindly before him as he peered around, seeking to learn where his mistress was. A few seconds later, Gord answered the question in a gruff and terrible-sounding voice.
"She is dead, Pledd — as dead as you will soon be, unless you toss aside that little flail and surrender nowl"
The hunchback spent only a second absorbing that bit of information. Unable to see the creature who had killed his mistress, able only to guess what terrible powers it might have. Pledd simply let go of the flail. As it clattered to the floor, he spoke. "Spare my life, demon or devil, whichever you might be. I will gladly show you where all the treasures she took are stored!" The voice of the fellow wavered and cracked. He was truly frightened by the unknown peril.