Obmi the dwarf was out to find the City Out of Mind.
Eclavdra, dark elven high priestess of Graz'zt, was bent on doing the same.
Gord, citizen of Greyhawk, once a beggar, thief, and cat burglar, now a free-willed agent of Rexfelis, Lord of All Cats, and the Demiurge Basiliv, likewise was on a mission to somehow trek across the uncharted waste of ash-strewn dust and sand to discover the hiding place of the Final Key, the last portion of the Artifact of Evil – which, if joined with its other two parts, would awaken Tharizdun, the greatest force of malign power ever known. That one would bind all evil to his wicked will, destroy light, and bring a reign of such terrible woe to the very multiverse that all good might be stamped out forever. Somewhere, burled beneath the Ashen Desert, was the object sought by these three – and perhaps others as well. Between all of them and the object lay the vast stretches of this arid waste… and everything that dwelled within it.
Chapter 9
"SUCH A THING is impossible!"
The spell-binder bowed in acceptance of the assertion. After all, he was but a lowly warlock, a functionary serving a far greater mistress. "It would seem so, Lord Obmi," he said. "Yet, I can only relate the information passed to me from one who stated it was the word of Iggwilv herself."
"I no longer am subject to that witch, knave! I am the champion of Queen Zuggtmoy!" the dwarf told him in a heated tone.
"Yes, lord, but is not the greatest of witches herself an ally of the exalted demoness? It was Kalfeen, the Mistress of Black Covens, who told me of what great Iggwilv would have you know. She also said that the same intelligence was Zuggtmoy's."
Obmi grimaced through his thick brush of beard. Then let my mistress tell me of it," he growled. Before continuing, he looked around to make sure that none of the other patrons in the tavern were eavesdropping. "Bah! This is some ploy of Iggwilv's making or Iuz's twisted thinking to slow me in my passage to victory. No clone can be made so quickly, and none existing can continue whole and sound, while the true Eclavdra herself still lives. Even I, a magic-disdaining dwarf, know at least this much of dweomercraefting."
Daring the wrath of this fearsome fighter, the warlock persisted. "Duplicates can be grown and kept unactivated, Lord Obmi, by those of superior powers. Perhaps still greater spell-workers can remove the fell link and compulsion for sole existence which ties self to clone."
"Deceptions and lies! I myself arranged for the slaying of the scum guarding the drow filth, and her along with them. Eclavdra, the would-be champion of Graz'zt, is dead. Only I remain to complete the contest. You may inform your mistress of that, and she may tell whomever she pleases – Iggwilv, or Iuz, or all Oerth!" The dwarf was flushed with rage now, and the nameless warlock took a step backward, fearing that Obmi would fly into a murderous fit. As the underling began to retreat, the livid dwarf calmed himself somewhat.
"Don't hasten away quite yet, man," said the dwarf in a more even tone. "Tell your superiors that I, Obmi, have abided by every single rule and constraint of the whole affair, and I have done this so scrupulously that even Iggwilv herself could not find fault with my conduct. Although the dark elf was waylaid, I did not harm her myself. Others saw her and her entourage as an easy target, once I simply made them aware of her existence and location, and it was they who laid the black-skinned one low. I was nowhere in the vicinity when they put her to the sword. I was far away when all that occurred, and none can gainsay that. Now, begone!"
The warlock bowed his cowled head, perhaps a little deeper than he normally would have for a dwarf, even though this demi-human was the sworn champion of the terrible Zuggtmoy, Demon Queen of Fungi. The important fact to the warlock was that this one was mad, and the magic-user had no desire to become a victim of such a creature. Those whom he served would be the arbiters of all this; he was merely a conduit of sorts. "May you prosper, lord," he said in departing. But having already dismissed the man in his mind, Obmi was paying no attention.
In fact, despite his braggadoccio, the dwarf was not at all sure that he would succeed. Just two days earlier, he had completed a significant part of his journey, the trek from Hlupallu to Ghastoor. But he knew the most difficult tests still lay ahead, even now that he considered himself to be without competition. The contest was not just one of individuals; it was a trial of survival against the elements as well, and all that Obmi knew of the Ashen Desert boded ill. Then there was the problem of locating the City Out of Mind and finding the Theorpart somewhere within the buried ruins of the ancient metropolis.
Even as he thought about all of this, Obmi reassured himself that he would discover the way to manage everything, but right now he needed information and time to plan further, time enough to prepare for leaving Ghastoor and traveling to Kar-noosh. Meanwhile he would have a little relaxation and diversion, enjoy the hospitality of the city of Ghastoor, and gather the facts and aid he needed for venturing onward. At the caravan town on the shore of Lake Karnoosh there would be need for final preparations, but by then he would have the wherewithal he needed. Now he was quickly regaining his confidence: He would not fail, and Zuggtmoy would appreciate his accomplishments. Along with his renewed faith in himself, the dwarf regained his cruel demeanor as he realized that the attendants of this tavern had left his cup empty for too long.
"You there! Bring me more wine!" bellowed the surly dwarf to a nearby serving maid.
She hastened to obey, spilling a bit of the stuff on the dwarfs sleeve in her nervous anxiety to please. That was all the excuse Obmi needed. He grabbed the girl's arm and twisted it. Pain was written on her face as she meekly begged his forgiveness. Obmi simply smiled and bent her arm farther. When it broke, she fainted, giving the dwarf only the satisfaction of a brief scream and a few whimpers before unconsciousness relieved her of the torture. The dwarf kicked her, but the servant girl remained unaware, so he got no pleasure from that. After calling for others to remove her, Obmi hurled a handful of silver pieces after them to avoid any recriminations from the local authorities. Then he sat back, savored his wine, and reflected on how masterfully his plan had worked so far…
It had been a simple matter to have the two "lieutenants" among his original group of guards agree to slay the rest of the escort that had accompanied Obmi to the outskirts of the city of Hlupallu. "One of their number is a spy," he had told the duo. That had been sufficient to persuade the dull-witted half-ore to use Obmi's poison on the others. But then it had taken a bit more effort to convince the priest of the pair that his half-orcish companion was an enemy also.
Eventually, by exceptionally imaginative lies and dint of persuasion, including the promise of gold, the dwarf had brought the cleric around to his viewpoint. With the aid of a paralysis spell, the priest managed to incapacitate the half-ore, and then had the fine idea to offer the helpless part-humanoid as a sacrifice to the demoness all three of them served. Obmi congratulated the cleric on this bit of thinking, and accompanied the man on a trip to a secluded canyon outside the city. The trusting cleric had done away with the paralyzed half-ore and was on his knees, engrossed in finishing the ritual of the sacrifice ceremony, when Obmi caught him from behind with his enchanted martel. The dwarf rammed the weapon's sharp pick into the man's body repeatedly, so as to baptize it in the life blood of the unsuspecting fool. "This too is in sacrifice to our queen!" Obmi chortled, but the cleric was already unconscious and on the brink of death. Then Obmi finished the doltish priest with a solid smash to the skull, thus properly tempering the hammer head of his new weapon as well. Now he had disposed of all the members of his first retinue, as ordered, and he entered the Dar Peshdwar in disguise to await word from his new group of servitors.