“Nothing so definite, nor requiring such danger, Gord. Those who probed uncovered something which even they paid no heed to, and it is only my own strange ability to recall things which prompted my visit. Have you any memories at all of your infancy?”
“Not actually… just what old Leena related. It was she who told me that the box, there, was my only inheritance, but this only after I discovered it by accident one day. It didn’t mean anything to me at the time, but she was cruel and possessive about it. She would keep it hidden away from me and try to torture me by saying she’d burned it to keep warm, sold it for food money, and suchlike. Poor old crazy woman. How do you suppose I came into her care?”
Gellor nodded sympathetically. “From what you’ve said, Gord, she was a sad one indeed. She saved that little coffer, though, and you have it. Now that you’ve showed it to me, I have realized that it is what I recall seeing! The connection was a difficult one, else long ago I’d have told you. In the vision I saw the box was unmarred, magnificent, and within it were nine great black sapphires!”
“You’re certain you saw that same container, this very box?” Gord demanded, picking up the worn, scuffed coffer and thrusting it under the one-eyed man’s gaze.
In answer, Gellor lifted his black leather eyepatch and viewed the battered wooden box with his enchanted orb, a magical eyeball of gemstone that empowered him to see close up, far away, and things invisible or hidden even by ether or astral vibration as well. When Gellor employed the device, neither illusionary concealment nor any other magical cloaking could prevail against its inspection.
“The very same, Gord. I think, with care and skill, it could be restored to the very state it was in when I saw it in the scrying.”
“Nine black sapphires?…”
“Star sapphires of purest ebon, they were, I recall distinctly because of the circumstances.”
Setting the box aside, Gord demanded, “What exactly were those… circumstances?”
Gellor had wanted to examine the box more carefully, to thoroughly inspect it to see if some additional clue could be discovered, but his young friend’s insistence would brook no more delays. “In a scrying of the sort done by those of great power, Gord, even as the present and future unravel, a shadowing of the past manifests itself as well. Those trained in the arts can easily ignore such scenes at will, for following them wastes precious time, time better spent discovering future probabilities. I am no master of dweomers, and my attention was often distracted by the phantoms of your past-the actual and that which might have been as well. In one of the adjunctive shadowings, my friend, I saw a plump and happy child. He played at the feet of a lovely woman, and among his playthings were that box there and its contents. The infant was you, Gord, and the box held the stones-gems which you poured out and replaced gleefully.”
“So… and the woman?”
“Who knows? She was none I have ever seen. Was there a beautiful lady ever around? Can you recall?”
“No… Would there had been,” Gord said ruefully. “That one must have been exceptional and wealthy beyond belief to allow an infant to make playtoys of gems!”
“Set aside the value of the stones for the moment. Think on this: To have been shown thus, those nine black star sapphires must have been yours, a part of your inheritance or a gift. The woman was what was meant for your childhood, a governess or protectress, I am unable to differentiate. The stones were a vital portion of what had been meant for you as well.” Gellor looked steadily at the young man. “Do you have the slightest recollection of those precious gemstones? Any memory at all?”
“None! But perhaps if I saw them, held them, something would return. Do you know where they are now?”
Without answering, Gellor sat back and sipped the wine from his nearly empty goblet. “What memories does your ring evoke?”
“This?” Gord held it up. The setting in the piece of jewelry held a deep green emerald with a star pattern in it that made it look like a cat’s eye. From its hardness he had at first taken it for a chrysoberyl, but then he decided it was far too green and deep for such a stone. Only an emerald of the corundum sort could be as lovely as that. “No memories. I gained it from a stupid man, a thief and manslayer, when I was just a boy. I thought I’d told you of that.”
“No matter. I have a clue as to the whereabouts of the nine stones, and that is of import, no?”
“Yes! Out with it, man!”
With a long sigh, Gellor admitted his frustration. “I made inquiries here in Greyhawk as soon as I arrived. Rare specimens such as that have a way of being kept track of by gem merchants, jewelers, and those with a lust for their likes. It seems that I was but a few weeks too late in coming-blame my failure to associate the two images of the box, if you will.” Gord interjected his assurance that he could never affix any blame, rather only approbation for the ability to see the one in the other, so disparate were the two forms and so tenuous the one-eyed man’s connection to either.
Thank you. Anyway, the nine are still together, it seems. They could be no other gems, for even a single black star sapphire is as rare as compassion in the heart of a hag! They are part of a necklace now-a thing of astonishing beauty, made of wrought platinum and also set with diamonds, I’m told. The piece was brought to Greyhawk a month ago by a trader from the Wild Coast. He claimed that the necklace had come from far to the west, and the merchants viewing it said the workmanship was so fine that they dared not doubt the fellow’s statement.
“A work of that sort is never openly advertised for sale. The necklace was viewed privately for some few days, and then the trader auctioned it off in the company of a select private group of individuals who typically have interest in rare gems, jewelry, and works of art. It was sold to the agent of a powerful foreigner, a lord from Dyvers, evidently. Although the purchasing agent left Greyhawk only a few days ago, you can be certain that the necklace went off long before that-say three weeks past, A known dealer in such precious commodities doesn’t travel with funds, or with purchases either. Thieves and brigands would soon have all. and him dead.”
It was all Gord could do to restrain himself from pulling his friend out of his chair and hugging him. “And the name of the buyer?”
“Neither the buyer nor the man he bought for are known. That’s hardly surprising. The agent is known hereabouts as Demming, or Sharpeye Demming. The descriptions I have heard could fit any man of middling height, common features, and average age. You can wager with assurance that the name he uses elsewhere will be different from his alias here. There is nothing else.”
“Then let’s be satisfied at that! Dyvers is not quite as large a city as Greyhawk, and hiding in the place is one with a clue I seek. We can ferret out him and the stones in no time at all!”
“I hate to say this, Gord, but what makes you suppose the man will be in Dyvers? If he is an active trader, and one seeking to earn a living, he’ll be off again by now, looking for such things in other cities-and the whole of the Flanaess is a large place to disappear in.”
After pondering that for a moment, the young man inclined his head in agreement with Gellor’s statement. “Yes, there is merit to what you say. The necklace, however, is not at all likely to be making its way about the lands of the west, east, north, and south. In fact, such a treasure will be locked up safe in a special place-that I know from experience!” Gord exclaimed with a roguish grin.
“Except…” Gord added with a gleam in his eye, “when such a thing is brought forth for others to envy and admire. A necklace of this sort will grace the throat of some gorgeous courtesan ere long, if not already. Thus its owner shows off a pair of prized possessions at the same time… Oh, yes, Gellor, my boon friend! We shall have them soon!” Gord paused, snapped his fingers, sprang up, and began to bustle about the apartment.