Vuron spoke first after the trio had left. "I trust not the zubassu thegn— "

Trust!? I trust none... except my handmaiden, here, and you, Vuron. Now be silent, for I rule here. With Kostchtchie and that lot will I go. You, Vuron, will speed south even as I march north. Because you have employed the Theorpart so well, I again entrust its power to you. I have drawn strength aplenty from it, and I also have my sword and the Eye of Deception. Remember, though, steward, that I will always keep contact with Unbinder."

"And what is my assignment, my king?" Eclavdra asked.

To stand beside Vuron. To assist him, and to watch him too. Yeenoghu and a dozen others of power will also be there, but Vuron is to have overall command. You, Eclavdra, are his lieutenant and my watchdog."

The drow bowed her beautiful head in silent acceptance, showing nothing except that by so doing.

The albino demon likewise bowed in homage. "I hear and obey, king," Vuron muttered deferentially. Graz'zt actually smiled at the pale demon lord, his fiery green eyes snowing something as akin to true respect and friendship as is possible for such beings. Vuron saw that, bowed lower, and continued. "And if Iuz should come forth with his Theorpart?..."

The smile turned to a savage, wolfish snarl. "Ah, my steward, if I could only be there for such an event! Yet I am confident you will know how to deal with that gross idiot should that happen. It is the witch you must beware of most. Have care should she come forth!"

Both Vuron and Eclavdra nodded and started to depart. Graz'zt stopped them short with what seemed like an afterthought. "The full council will meet in one , hour. I had thought to discuss other matters.... Come with the rest, but both of you are to say nothing. Listen only. At the conclusion, you two will remain behind, for I will need your assessment of the lords present. As I told you, I trust none fully, most of that lot must be watched." Then Graz'zt left them, and his two closest servants quickly made their way to their own places to prepare.

Chapter 3

"THIS IS MOST UNEXPECTED...."

Gord spoke those words softly, and it was an understatement. A moment or two before, he had been in an undersea grotto with the undine Kharistylla. She had told him it was time. Time for what?" he had asked. Then, following her instructions, he had simply touched the amulet while thinking of Rexfelis the Catlord.

The beautiful undersea grotto and the even lovelier undine had suddenly wavered, become insubstantial, and for an instant Kharistylla's smiling eyes had seemed to become as large as saucers just before she vanished from his sight. Gord spoke, blinked, and shook his head, because he now stood before the assembled lords of Balance.

"He is changed," Basiliv the Demiurge said to no one in particular. Then, to Gord: "Welcome, prince. Leoceanius said we should expect you about now, and so here we stand gathered."

A murmur rose up from several of those in Rexfelis's private chamber. Of the score of powerful personages there, perhaps seven or eight had met and spoken with the young adventurer in the past. Among them were the Master Cat, of course; the Demiurge Basiliv, the archwizards Mordenkainen and Tenser and the King of Shadow.

"I present Gord," Rexfelis said formally, coming to the young man's aid. "Some of you have been introduced to the Prince of Panthers before this." Then he made introductions of some of those present whom the young adventurer had not met. "My Lords of the Cabal," he began, nodding to indicate four strange no-longer-humans near the back of the chamber. Then, sweeping his gaze and his arm slowly around the room, he named others. "Gord, this is the Master of Swords — perhaps a foster sire of yours, I think. Here is Lord Hewd, Lord Donal, Murlon, Lord Keogh, Venerable Yocasta, Venerable Nastan. And here is the Active Hand of Dweomer, the Archimage, of course, for the highest of magic never himself interferes...."

Demi-gods, quasi-deities, the most powerful of humans. Somehow, Kharistylla had found out exactly when he was supposed to make his appearance, and Leoceanius had played a role he was unaware of. The whole experience was simply too much for Gord to comprehend. "I... I... What is the problem? Am I being judged?" he blurted out.

"Droll fellow," the quasi-deity known as Lord Keogh drawled with barely suppressed mirth. "If that were the case, the whole lot of us would have to stand beside you."

"Yet, not a bad idea that," suggested the Mad One of Magic. "Let's round up those demi-humans — the elves, dwarves, gnomes, that whole lot — and stand trial together!"

"There's no point trying to find that bunch," Lord Hewd said, tugging absently at his little beard. "They're all off fighting against demons and devils, you know."

Shadowking raised a dark eyebrow at that exchange, and Rexfelis seemed about to interject something, but the four Hierophants of the Cabal spoke in unison. "Enough, sirs!" they said. Then one of them continued. This young prince is true and truly puzzled. Let us deal with matters at hand in a fashion likely to produce results, ere we find ourselves grappling with fiends from the nether regions ourselves!"

Thank you, my lords," Gord said to the Hierophants after an audible swallow of relief. "I have had to face demons and devils before, and I think even this assemblage is preferable to that."

Too bad, too bad," caroled the Mad Archimage. "We're here to see that you do just that!"

At that the Catlord took a hand. "I apologize, Prince Gord," he said formally. Then he took the young man by his arm and steered him to a nearby chair. Rexfelis pushed Gord down, seated himself in the next tall chair, and waved casually to the others to take their positions. "Let us all take our places, and I shall explain to our champion what is to take place. Agreed?"

There were various spoken and unspoken assents, and in a moment or two the whole strange assembly, the gathering that included the majority of the powers who represented Balance, was seated in a semicircle in the large, low-ceilinged chamber. Thank you all, lords and ladies," Rexfelis intoned. "Hear what I have to tell to Gord of Greyhawk, acknowledged by me and you all as a peer, titled the Prince of Panthers by birthright and by virtue of accomplishment such that none may question."

"Hear, hear!"

"Get on with it!"

Gord was now more confused than before, and at the same time a bit excited. What was this about "birthright"? Perhaps, for some reason he could not fathom, he was finally about to learn of his heritage. But he and Rexfelis had spent long hours together before this, and surely the Catlord had already told him all there was to tell. Gord held his tongue, but his mind reeled. He dared not hope, but could not keep from doing so....

The Catlord gave cold looks to both who had spoken, first Basiliv and second the crotchety old Mordenkainen. He cleared his throat with a sound that was a cross between a purr and a growl, then continued. "As you know, Gord has served the cause of Balance for longer than he has realized, but actively and most willingly of late. In recognition and explanation of his services, I have acknowledged his heritage to some of you. I now tell this to the rest of you, and Gord himself, for the first time: His father, my own great-grandson, was the sole heir of my kind's Seventh House. By birthright and his own deeds he has fully earned that heirship... and more. That is another story, however. I will stick with the business our council has before it."

At that point Gord could no longer contain himself. "You've known all along?" he asked, anger overriding the excitement he felt.

Rexfelis showed little emotion, but his huge, dark eyes had a tinge of sadness as he replied. "Yes, Gord, I have known all along. I do not ask your forgiveness, for there is nothing to forgive. Perhaps you'll understand when you know more, perhaps not. Too many sought you — too many of such deadly power and fell purpose that not even all of us here, let alone simply me, could keep them from you had they fully understood just who and what you were... or are, rather."