Realms of Magic

THE LUCK OF LLEWELLYN THE LOQUACIOUS

"The vagabond has lied to us!"

Llewellyn the Loquacious felt the cold waters of the River Ghalagar soak through his clothes, through his black-brown hair, and through his narrow, all-too-human frame.

"Drown him like the rodent he is!"

A halfling heel pressed down on the side of his neck. Water splashed onto his face, into his eyes and mouth.

"Lie to us, will you? Hold him under the water. Let the fish swim in his lungs!"

He thought this might be the end. This time, he feared, there would be no way out, no escape. Not with this adventuring band of halflings thirsty for revenge. No, indeed!

The hair-covered foot on his neck was joined by another on the side of his head. The weight forced his head into the sand at the river's bottom. Other weights-several other halflings-pinned the rest of his body down. As the water rushed into his ears, he could no longer hear the voices calling out. And though he struggled, the combined weight of the halflings was too great for him.

He could hold his breath no more, and bubbles full of life-breath escaped from his lungs, exited through his mouth and nostrils, rose in the water, and burst at the surface of the river. Wide-eyed and terrified, he watched their ascent.

Perhaps, he thought, I shouldn't have sent this band of adventurers to seek the silver key. Perhaps I could have acquired Zalathorn's amulet on my own, without trying to distract these halflings; after all, Zalathorn, great and beneficent wizard-king that he is, said I could keep the amulet for my very own if I chose to. Perhaps sending them off into the Swamp of Ahklaur so that I could search their camp was not a good idea-no, not a particularly smart notion at all-even if I did find the amulet, which I now have in the pocket of my very wet robe…

Water filled his lungs, and the weight en various points of his body seemed to lessen. He thought it must have been the relief of death.

But strong fingers grabbed the long hair on his head and yanked him up over the surface of the water. He coughed up the water in his lungs, and the cold evening air brought him back to full consciousness. That was when he noticed the halfling shouting had ceased; in fact, once the water dripped from his ears, he could hear only one voice, that of the band's leader: Black Indio.

"… not hear me, my friend?" Black Indio, though a self-styled rapscallion, was no more daunting than any half-ling: fuzzy feet shadowed beneath a portly belly clothed in green homespun, wispy beard framing a face more fey than fanatic.

Llewellyn coughed out the last of the liquid.

"I said," Indio repeated, slapping the top of Llewellyn's head, "can you not hear me? Has your bath made you deaf?"

Indio's followers laughed. Llewellyn took a deep breath.

"No, I can hear you, you blackhearted, ungrateful cur!" he answered. Not having time to think about tactics- whether humility or boldness would be more appropriate at this time-Llewellyn opted for the latter. He silently prayed he wasn't creating even more trouble for himself.

"I am hurt, my friend!" Indio protested, his shaggy hair glowing with the light of the halfling campfire. "Blackhearted? Yes, no one can be more blackhearted than I when I choose to be. That's how I earned the title Black Indio, or more correctly, Indio the Black! Right now, I don't choose to be. And ungrateful? You cut me to the quick!"

"Do I?" Llewellyn asked. "Do I? I do? Indeed! Your band of cutthroats try to drown me! And why? I ask you why? I told you where you could find the silver key in the swamp; just because you couldn't find it-couldn't follow directions, most likely-is no fault of mine, I do declare! Yet your band of…"

"But we did find it."

"… hooligans throw me into the river…"

"I say, we did find it."

"… and nearly bury my head in the… What? What did you say?"

"We found it. We found the charm."

"You did?" Llewellyn coughed out loud to cover his surprise. "Of course you did. Just as I said, exactly the way I told you you would." Can my luck be holding? he wondered. Can this be possible?

"I'm not sure I know how to work it, though," Indio exclaimed.

"May I see it?" Indio handed it to him as he finally rose to his feet, water dripping from every inch of him.

It was a rather large key with three holes forged in it, where gems should be… but weren't. Llewellyn recognized the key immediately. Yes, the wheel of fortune was definitely turning in his favor. So much so that it worried him.

"I sent some of my troop back early," Indio explained. "The damned piranha were nibbling them away to nothing. I'm afraid that by the time they got back here, they were a bit overzealous. Remember, we hadn't found the key at that time, and all of my band-myself included- wanted to stuff a few live piranha down your throat for sending us into that godless swamp for nothing."

"How charming! How positively charitable of you!"

"But the moment we found it, I hurried back to camp, fearing what might be done to you in my absence."

"Thank you so excessively much," Llewellyn said sarcastically. "I take it back. It was a most grievous error on my part. You're not ungrateful at all."

"But I am still… Black Indio!" he shouted, drawing his sword and pointing it at the sky. His troop repeated the action, and in unison shouted, "Black Indio!"

"Come out of the water and sit by the fire, my friend," Indio said. "And tell me again of this key."

Llewellyn followed him to the campfire and sat close to it. In a few moments, its heat removed the chill from his bones.

"Bring our friend a drink," Indio commanded. Turning to Llewellyn, he continued: "This key, I believe you said, can unlock a chest of wealth somewhere in the mountains, just west of Zoundar. Am I correct?"

"Yes, that is, positively correct, I must say," Llewellyn responded, "and no, it is not. The key will not work without three stones set in the holes cut for them."

"Jewels?"

"No, not jewels, though that would be most attractive, perhaps even splendiferous. They are perfectly round jade stones, each with a dark stripe that runs around the perimeter."

The halfling whose foot had crushed Llewellyn's face into the mud of the river stepped forward and spoke. "Indio! We have such a stone!"

"Do we? Bring it forward. In fact, bring the sack that contains all our treasures."

The halfling did as commanded and handed Indio the sack. The leader poured out the contents between himself and Llewellyn. Indio fingered through the various gold pieces, trinkets, and small gems until he spotted what he was looking for.

"Is this it?" he asked Llewellyn, holding the green piece between two ringers.

"Does it fit in the key?"

Indio placed the stone into one of the circles on the key.

"By all that is holy, it fits-perfectly," cried the halfling.

"So it does," Indio added, "but it will not work, as our friend has said, without the other two stones. So of what use is it to me?"

Llewellyn smiled wryly. "You are too pessimistic, Indio the Black, my good friend." Undoing the drawstring of the leather sack on his belt and reaching into it, he added. "I believe the adage, once spoken by some person of undeniable wisdom at some distant point in the past, is 'one good turn deserves another.'"

Whereupon he held up an identical jade stone.

Indio's eyes lit up. "The second stone. I must have it."

"You could, I suppose, just steal it from me, Indio. But even though you are Indio the Black, I hope you will not do that, considering the injustice your followers have already perpetrated upon me. May I propose a trade?"

"What do you want for it?" Indio asked suspiciously.

"May I–I'm not a particularly skilled barterer, I must admit-peruse your plentiful plunder?"

Indio extended his hand, indicating his permission.

Llewellyn crouched over the items that Indio had poured between them, slowly and carefully slipping out of his robe the amulet he had already stolen. With a dexterous display of sleight of hand, he made it appear that he was choosing the amulet from the pile.

Better to acquire this… shall we say, legally… than perhaps have it found on me later, he thought.

"This amulet would do nicely, I must say."

Indio laughed. "You may have it. It is made of pure silver, but like this key, its decorative and maybe valuable stones have been pried off and traded, no doubt. What do you want with it?"

"Perhaps I will someday decorate it with stones of my very own choosing. And the amulet itself, a simple yet artful piece of craftsmanship, is handsome, don't you think?"

Indio shrugged his shoulders. "If you say so. Then it is a deal?"

"Almost."

"I knew there had to be a catch."

Llewellyn shook his head. "My good man, there is no catch, don't you know? Listen to me. I know who has the third stone, and where they are headed. If I help you acquire the third stone, do you agree to give me half of the treasure? After all, that would be only fair."

The whole camp laughed, but only Indio responded. "Ten percent. For it will be my troop and I who will, no doubt, have to… liberate… this stone."

"Twenty-five percent?"

"Fifteen."

"Twenty sounds reasonable to me. After all the abuse I've taken from your band, and my only taking this simple amulet…"

"Enough, Talkative One!" Indio said. "Twenty percent it is. But you must assist us in any way we deem necessary."

"Agreed."

"You have yet to tell me who it is that possesses the third stone."

"I believe you've heard of them. Most folks here and there know of them, I do believe."

"Them?"

"They are known as-although I consider the name a bit on the inane side-the Buckleswashers."

Indio slapped his own forehead in exasperation. "The Buckleswashers? That group of deceitful rogues who allow a gnome to travel with them? Aren't they from Water-deep? This is far from their base."

Llewellyn nodded in agreement. "Indeed. It is surely the vast wealth of the treasure that has brought them so far from home."

"You are certain it is they?"

"Not long ago, I had the misfortune of running into them. Talltankard, their leader, beat me senseless for no reason at all. That's why I sought your band. Though my interest lies in a share of the treasure, I also wish revenge against Talltankard, which I, by myself, could never exact."

"Indeed, brother Llewellyn. I, too, hate that Talltankard, the braggart. I, too, will enjoy meeting him and his disgraceful excuse for a band of adventurers. Now tell me where they can be found."

Llewellyn gazed into the blazing fire. "It is not that I do not trust you, my friend, Indio the Black. I cannot tell you that, for it is in a trader's interest to keep at least one item of barter in his sack."

"Then you will not tell me?"

"Better than that: I shall lead you to them-and to the treasure. Actions, they say-although, again, I do not exactly know who 'they* are-speak louder than words."

"Thereby assuring your indispensability," Indio said with a laugh. "You are indeed a shrewd man."

The two men again shook hands; then Indio called for food and drink and held the key high over the fire, watching the light twinkle from the green stones. Llewellyn sat quietly, planning how he would spend the fortune they would find in the mountains.

An hour later, Llewellyn was reclining on the ground under an elm tree, wrapped in a scratchy burlap blanket. But he hardly noticed the fabric. He knew that soon all would go his way.

In his semiconsciousness, he mused back on the most unusual two days just past. First, he'd had the misfortune of running into the Steadfast Order of Shortfellow Swashbucklers, better known throughout the Shining South as the Buckleswashers. They had been in the mountains north of the West Wall, seeking some ancient treasure. And since he was in the vicinity-and since Llewellyn the Loqua-cious's reputation was of a man of much valuable knowledge-the group delayed him and attempted to obtain information regarding the whereabouts of the lost treasure.

But, as usual, the Loquacious One was able to learn more than he taught. He told them he had heard of the treasure. He learned that a key containing three jade stones was necessary to unlock the treasure chest. He told them he had heard that the treasure was in this vicinity. He learned that they had found it; indeed, it was located in a cave barely a hundred yards from their present location. He told them he would assist them in finding the treasure. He learned that they had one of the stones, but not the key itself, nor the two additional stones. After many threats on the part of the Buckleswashers and many promises and vows on his part, they released him on condition that he would return in three days-or they would come looking for him.

Then he was summoned psionically to Zalathorn. Wordlessly, Zalathorn probed the Talkative One's mind and learned what he needed to know. The wizard, content with his store of riches, had no desire for this lost treasure. He provided Llewellyn with the full knowledge of the trea-sure, the key, and the three jade stones. Zalathorn thought it would be amusing to watch as the quest for the treasure unfolded before him. So he set Llewellyn in the vicinity of Indio Black's band of treasure-seekers.

And now, well, here Llewellyn was, content (relatively), sound (thankfully), and safe (miraculously). And almost (no-completely) asleep.

The next morning the troop awoke at the break of dawn, and by late afternoon, they were within a quarter mile of the treasure.

Llewellyn, who with Indio walked ahead of the other eight in the band, motioned for the group to halt. Indio repeated the order vocally, privately annoyed at his partner's presumption.

"We shall, I think, be able to acquire the treasure with a minimum of fuss and violence if you leave the complex machinations to me, I must say," Llewellyn declared.

Indio looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean by that?"

"Simply that I have considered all the options and various possibilities, and I have a plan."

"Oh? Have you, great military leader?" Indio retorted.

Llewellyn pretended insult. "Very well, I shall remain quiet, and let you handle everything. After all, you know where the treasure is!"

Indio began to relent. "Fine. Tell us what…"

"You know where the Buckleswashers are…"

"I don't. Tell us…"

"You know how…"

Indio placed his hand on his sword. "By all the fiends in the Shining South, will you not shut up and tell us your plan?"

Llewellyn frowned. "How can a man shut up and speak at the same time? It's a paradox to be pondered, I must say."

"Fine! Fine!" Indio shouted. "Don't shut up. Speak. Speak! Tell us your plan."

Finally, Llewellyn relented. "This is what I have in mind. I will go to the Buckleswashers with the key containing the two stones…"

"Like hell you will," shouted one of Indio's troop, whose name was Ckleef Vann. "Do you take us for fools?"

Llewellyn lied when he answered: "No."

"Go on," Indio said warily, "but this had better be good."

"I will convince them to give me a cut of the treasure, as I have done with you. When we put the third stone in the key and unlock the treasure, you and your very able troop will rush them and take the treasure."

"Why don't we just rush them now?' another of the troop, known only as Terrence of the Hill, insisted.

Llewellyn turned to him. "Because they, at best, might hide the stone and, at worst, steal the key from you and kill you all. If you follow my plan, and I do so hope you do, you gain not only the element of surprise, but also the fact that all three stones will be in the key."

Indio considered the plan, but asked, "What if they kill you and go to the treasure?"

"My presence or absence doesn't change matters for you, can't you see? You can still overpower them." As an afterthought, Llewellyn added, "Of course, my presence requires your paying me my twenty-five percent."

"Twenty!" corrected Indio.

"Oh, yes, I had forgotten."

Indio strutted around for a moment, then agreed to the plan. "This had better work! I go against my better judgment. But you have convinced me."

He handed Llewellyn the key with the two stones.

"Good luck, partner."

Taking the key, Llewellyn said, "Good luck to you. Follow me, but keep your distance. If they should spot any of you, our odds of surviving this adventure will be minimized-if not obliterated in totality-especially the odds related to yours truly."

With those words, he marched away. Indio's men followed, trying to figure out what the Loquacious One had just said.

"Who goes there?" called an unfriendly voice.

"It is Llewellyn, returned to you, don't you see, as promised!"

"So it is!" From high in a tree dropped the halfling, Osco. His cheek scar was more hideous than Llewellyn had remembered. "Follow me. The others await you."

In a few moments, the pair marched into the clearing where the Buckleswashers had pitched camp. They were sitting around a fire, identical in dress and habitat and mood to the halflings he had just left. They stood as Osco and Llewellyn approached.

"So, you've come back," Bungobar Talltankard exclaimed. "It's a damned good thing you have."

"Indeed," agreed Dimvel Stoutkeg. "For if you had not returned/ Your effigy we would have burned/ And then this burning blazing fire/ Would've been your actual funeral pyre."

"Enough singing, already!" Carthax Nayusiyim, the gnome of the group, yelled. "You and those songs! You'll drive me mad!"

Insulted, Dimvel responded, "You are mad! And an ugly little gnome, besides!"

Carthax reached for his rod of smiting, but Talltankard intervened. "Enough! We've no time for this bickering. We're all on edge because this ever-speaking bargainer has kept us waiting."

"Yes, but I have returned, don't you know," Llewellyn said. "And, most remarkably, with the key."

The six Buckleswashers drew closer to Llewellyn.

"Give it to us," demanded Carthax.

"Not so fast, my overly zealous compatriots," countered Llewellyn. "I want to reiterate our agreement, forged at our last meeting."

One of the two female Buckleswashers spoke up. "We agreed to nothing except to let you live."

"You forget, dear lady, that…"

Talltankard drew his knife. "My wife, Lyratha, forgets nothing!"

"But when I was last here…"

The other female Buckleswasher added her words: "Relax, Nervous One! We shall give you a few trinkets and send you on your way."

Llewellyn thought better of pushing the matter too far. "That will be fine. That is all I ask. Except for one other thing, I must say."

"And that is what?" Osco asked.

"May I have the stones from the key after you take the treasure from the chest?"

"The jade stones?" enquired the gnome, laughing. "They are practically worthless in the whole Shining South. You are an idiot to want them."

"Yes, I suppose," Llewellyn said. "But the woman I love-the most beautiful woman I have seen in any kingdom-has a great fondness for jade. Surely, I do not ask much."

"Agreed," Talltankard said. "I suppose you should have something. Now let me have the key."

Llewellyn nervously handed it to him. But a bit of his anxiety faded when the jade stone was placed in the key. It fit perfectly, and the whole company of Buckleswashers grinned.

Osco and Talltankard dragged the two-foot high by two-foot wide chest from the mouth of the cave into the fading sunlight. The rest of the company watched, as did Llewellyn, but every few seconds he looked around the perimeter of the area. He prayed Indio's folk were ready.

Talltankard turned the key, and smoke seeped out of the chest. Then Osco pulled open the lid and revealed the myriad jewels and gold it contained.

While the company stared at it, stunned, Llewellyn asked, "I do so hate to ask you, since you are all so very busy, but may I have the stones, as you promised?"

Talltankard removed the key and tossed it to Llewellyn, who caught it.

"But that's all you get, vagabond!" Carthax, the gnome, said sourly. "Be on your way!"

Stoutkeg broke into a song: "We're richer than we ever thought/ Just reward for battles fought."

But, suddenly, the voice of Indio the Black answered with its own song: "But don't expect to keep that treasure/ For taking it shall be our pleasure."

Indio's band, who slightly outnumbered their opponents, attacked the Buckleswashers. In minutes, all were locked in combat. For a brief moment, Indio stood free of opposition, and Llewellyn approached him.

"Don't forget. Twenty percent."

Indio stared at him coldly. "You've served your purpose, scavenger. Get out of my sight before I cut off twenty percent of your head!"

Llewellyn backed into the brush, away from Indio and the rest. Carefully, he removed the three jade stones from the key and put it in his leather sack.

"There are a few things Zalathorn told me that I have kept to myself. Vagabond, am I? Scavenger, you call me? No! Try victor!"

Pairs and trios of battling halflings (and a gnome) spread out into the woods, up the mountain, and far into the cave. Here and there, a body lay stunned, unconscious, or worse. But more importantly to Llewellyn, the treasure was left unguarded.

Llewellyn ran to the chest, depleted it of as much of its contents as his improvised sack would hold-which was almost all-and, seeing that the way east toward the Halar Hills was safe and free of otherwise occupied halflings (and a gnome), he ran as quickly as his feet would cany him.

Then, suddenly, he heard Talltankard's voice. "The vagabond! He has cheated us all!"

Llewellyn's heart beat faster, for he knew it would not be long before the halflings (and a gnome) would catch up to him. The sack was growing heavier, and it was slowing him down.

He took the jade stones and placed them in the three forged holes in the silver amulet he had acquired from Indio. And the moment the third stone was secured in the amulet, he felt himself leaving the ground, elevating, ascending, flying. Flying!

No, Llewellyn realized, not flying, but moving, or, more precisely, being moved.

Then, just as suddenly as the sensation had begun, it ended.

Zalathorn's amulet had proven to be as invaluable as Llewellyn knew it would. As the wizard had informed him, when the same person had possession of both the key and the amulet-with the jade stones in place in the latter- their bearer would be returned, together with his or her possessions, to his or her place of birth.

And, indeed, the Talkative One was home in the town of Klint, safe from both bands of adventurers and much richer than he had ever been. He looked around and sighed, relishing the safety and comfort he felt.

Llewellyn sensed that the wizard, too, must be amused. After all, it was Zalathorn himself who had helped him. It was Zalathorn who had "informed" him of the amulet that was originally part of the treasure. And it was he who revealed to him that one of the stones and the amulet were now in the possession of a band of halflings led by one who had the arrogance and presumption to call himself Indio the Black.

He doubted that Indio the Black or the Buckleswashers were amused, though, and vowed to steer clear of them for the rest of his days.

Indeed, he thought, a most excellent vow.