“I am fond of you personally, and you have a role which is important. But I am not sure if I like what you might do, nor do I believe that I will be pleased much by what is to come. Do not again speak to me so, Gord the Unknown, Gord the Rogue-not unless you are prepared to accept my enmity and accept a challenge from me.”

That was unthinkable. The young man knew very well that although he could best any of those minions of the Catlord that surrounded him, Gord was certainly no match for Rexfelis in any respect-save perhaps at swordplay, and even that was doubtful. Furthermore, Gord had no desire to quarrel with this being, a lord who had most certainly given him more than any other personage, human or otherwise.

“I beg your forgiveness, Lord of Cats,” Gord said with humility. “I allowed my heart to rule my head, and my frustration to wag my tongue. I ask your pardon, and I shall not so offend again.”

Rexfelis smiled, a cat’s unfathomable smile. “You have it, even though I am quite positive you will offend me in the future.”

“Future, lord? You speak of that most often, yet you also say that you are not able to have my rede. You see my point?”

“Yes. Of course. In that I am somewhat remiss. I meant to speak to you as to exactly what I am certain of. Please have some refreshment, relax, and I will do so now.”

Gord complied with difficulty. For some time now, the young adventurer had suspected that something lay behind Rexfelis’ unexpected appearances and seemingly casual interest in his affairs. This meeting confirmed Gord’s suspicions. As the Catlord began speaking, the young adventurer composed himself as well as he could so as to absorb every word. Rexfelis told him that the interaction between himself and Gord had occurred with seeming coincidence, but the Catlord was himself uneasy about that, for seldom did he relate to humans as had happened with Gord. Therefore, Rexfelis had begun some investigation of things.

“You are entangled with me, Gord, with the Balance, with demons, and even with the foul Infestix. It was no accident, I think, that he himself came to slay you in his avatar of Nerull. It was foreordained, just as your coming here was written. Because of the tangling, and the interference, I can see but little more of your skein, my young friend. Be comforted, though, for if I cannot, it is most improbable that any other can either, including your greatest enemies, demon, daemon, or devil.

“Think on it. The hells sent a great minion of theirs to slay you, the bestial pig-thing which you slew and which in turn seemingly did for you. They could not foresee the result!”

“Nerull failed for the same reason, then?”

“Correct, Gord. None but yourself can see what is written for you-perhaps even you can’t pierce the veils, but possibly you will. You must try, if you can.”

“Of dweomers and scrying I know nothing,” the young man commented. “But if it seems possible, I will try… Can you tell me nothing more than that?”

Rexfelis sighed, nodding slowly. “You must know all, mustn’t you? Curiosity, Gord, killed the cat!” Both laughed at that, and then the Catlord resumed speaking. “A bad joke, really. I have seen that you will have more trials, perilous journeys, tests, and duels to the death-hardly unusual stuff for an adventurer such as you, young fellow! And first you will have to face those of my own folk who mean to test you. I fear that you are not uniformly liked here…”

“That’s no surprise,” Gord interjected. “Some of your cat-folk here are haughty and overbearing to the point of annoyance. I have brought one or two of them down a peg.”

“Yes,” the Catlord observed dryly, “that you have. Thereafter, Gord, you will be tested mentally and physically by those of Evil, as well as by nature itself. If you somehow survive that, and I mean the survival of mind and ethics as well as pure physical survival, it seems that you must return to the City of Grey-hawk one last time.”

That puzzled the young thief. “Must return? One last time? What I do is my own will, and Greyhawk is my only home. I shall go there or not as I choose, and it will be more than once, I trow!”

“Do you now? You are no more free to do as you would than am I-less so, in fact. Let that be. Perhaps it is a changeable condition. Whatever you think, I did foresee that you would return to Grey-hawk but once more, and that only to repay some past debt. The debt I cannot get the rede of, but it seemed to be one not directly connected to you. I mention that,” the Lord of Cats added, “because there was an inkling in the foreseeing.”

“Of what?” Gord asked quietly.

“Of a vendetta. That settling of old scores was tied to your past, your family, I think. There was something stranger still. So unsettling that I hesitate to mention it”

Gord was again tense and filled with the unease of foreboding. “I do not mean to press you, lord, but I request with all respect that you convey the remainder of your knowledge on this subject to me.”

“Of course,” Rexfelis said. “Having gone this far, I could not very well do otherwise. The matter of vengeance seemed to go beyond Greyhawk, well beyond. It came here, back to me somehow, but I am not sure how. I am not concerned, but I am. It is puzzling, disconcerting to me, I admit!”

“Then that is it?”

“No, Gord, not quite. Your quest, for want of a better word, might go beyond that. There were breaks, other paths, but it seemed there was one line which was stronger than all but one other. It led to the lowest depths, to the realms of darkest Evil, to Nerull and beyond.”

That made the young man pale. “What of the other, stronger line, lord?” he inquired uncertainly.

“That led to indecision, inactivity, and a horrible death.”

“Then I am doomed no matter what, it seems… I have no hope!”

“Wrong, most misguided and wrong! There is always hope, young fool! Didn’t I just tell you that I am not perfect? What I saw was only a series of possibilities. Granted, the most probable courses were very plain, but there might be other branches. Again, my seeing is possibly faulty. That we both understand. You alone will be able to decide the exact course you follow. Although some destinies you cannot shun, there are places where you have total freedom of decision. Perhaps, in the end, you are foredoomed, but of that neither you nor I have certain knowledge. Yet there is one certainty. If you deem yourself as good as finished, then you are!”

It was heartening, that last statement, and Gord managed to throw off his depression because of the encouragement. “Thank you, Lord Rexfelis. Although what you have related to me is troublesome-nay, worse than that, even-I appreciate your frankness. Now I will set about things with a different view. Prepare myself mentally and physically too. Whatever comes to me will find me as ready as I can be, and I shall remain alert, watchful. The best course might be very difficult to seek, to follow.”

“You are growing wiser already, my human friend. The words you speak are true always, even when life itself does not hang in the balance. Enough of this now! Here,” the Catlord said with an air of congenial sort, “allow me to serve you more of this excellent kumis. We will drink together as peers, you and I, until both of us are in a merry mood and ready for frisking and frolic!”

“As long as I don’t have to sing much… or listen to very much of the noise which passes for music hereabouts!”

“My feelings are hurt! Welladay,” Rexfelis went on with a mock sigh and forlorn expression, “I shall take no offense and make sure that whatever entertainment eventually follows is to your taste, for I am your host, and a guest must be humored,” he concluded, pouring liquor into Gord’s flagon until the milky stuff overflowed. Without another word, the Catlord quaffed his own beaker of kumis, and Gord needed no encouragement other than that, tossing his own down with equal relish.