Tales of Ravenloft

The Glass Man

October I From the Journal of Julio, Master Thief of Hazlan

I have done it!

The rest of the guildsmen said I was mad to try, but try I did. Imagine how foolish they'll feel, especially that bloated Cordova, when I show them the treasures I have plundered from the wizard Hazlik's tower! So much for their superstitious fear and cowardice.

I can just hear them when I open my velvet satchel and empty the guild's cut onto the table in the main hall. "Julio!" they'll say," This is incredible! How did you come by such magnificent pieces?" I'll smile and laugh and raise a great toast to my so-called peers. As each of them drinks, I'll tell them about the wizard's tower and laugh as the color drains from their faces. Oh, what a glorious sight that will be!

But I digress. I must get all the particulars down in writing so that none of this great adventure will be lost to me in the future. After all, even the great Julio must grow old. One day my hands will shake, my eyes will grow dim, and my memory will become suspect. I shall have nothing then but my journal to help me remember my youth and my days as Hazlan's greatest thief.

For many months now, I have studied the wizard's tower that stands some miles north of town. While it can be seen from the road to Slyvar, the details of the structure are impossible to ascertain until one moves closer. The others laughed when I told them that I planned to do just that, but I was not swayed. For them, such a crime might be impossible, but I am Julio.

I knew the risk, of course. Only a fool would think that burgling the keep of a wizard is easy. But I knew also that there must be treasure within that twisted tower, treasure the likes of which no member of our Thieves' Guild has dreamt of. Thus, I explored the lands about the keep. For my efforts, I came away with a serviceable map and a good knowledge of what must be done to obtain entrance to Hazlik's keep.

With that done, I began to visit the shops and taverns of the town. With casual conversation, I found the places that the wizard's men visited when they came to Toyalis. Eventually, I arranged a casual meeting with one of them. It wasn't long before Julio's winning smile and keen wit won the trust of this lowly administrator. He was not a popular man, tending to be moody and having been disfigured by a long scar that almost split his face in two. When the time came and I asked him to make a map of the wizard's tower, he readily agreed. I promised him a share of the treasure that I planned to liberate, but his only reward was a dagger in the back.

Last night, when the moon was at its darkest, I moved in. With all the skills at my disposal, I reached the outer wall and began to climb. The old stones were worn and cracked with age, making the climb a fairly easy one. Half an hour after I had begun the ascent, I found myself perched outside an ornate oval of stained glass near the top of the tower.

I set quickly to work, extracting a small set of tools from the hidden pockets of my broad buckskin belt. It took me only a few seconds to defeat the primitive lock that held the glass in place. With a bit of disbelief, I pulled at the window. Much to my surprise, it opened easily. I had expected some enchantment to hold the portal against me, but there was no sign of any such wizardry. Of course, I was ready to deal with such a thing if I found it, but that would have been time-consuming and I was grateful to be spared the effort.

I daresay that I must have been grinning like a foolish footpad when I slipped out of the chill air on the ledge and into the musty darkness beyond. I pulled the window closed behind me, taking care not to let it latch, and settled back while my eyes adjusted to the darkness.

As I waited, I tried to gather what impressions of the room I might. The air was thick with the odor of cloth, canvas, and mildew. Had I found my way into a simple storage closet of some sort? I certainly hoped not. Still, the ease of my entry suggested so. I risked a scrape on the cold stone floor beneath me and listened carefully to the way that the sound traveled in the room. The place was not overly large, but neither was it small enough to be a closet.

When at last my vision improved, I saw that my gamble had paid off. The room appeared to be a magical laboratory, though not one that had been recently used. There were all manner of instruments scattered about. Some I could identify, like the magnifying crystals and the various beakers full of chemicals. Others were totally alien to me. For all their possible worth, however, none of these things interested me as much as the wood and glass case that stood near the door to the room. It was the sort of cabinet that might be used to display valuables, and those were exactly what I was after.

Alas, my good fortune with the window was not repeated with the cabinet. It was too dark to see inside, so I could make out nothing of what lay behind the glass doors. Further, the lock was not as simple as that on the portal. In the gloom of this macabre place, I could not hope to pick it.

I decided to risk a light, for the lock would have been impossible to defeat without one. Thus, I withdrew a small object the size of a brandy flask from my belt and placed it near the lock. I slid open a panel on it, triggering a tiny spark, and allowed the minuscule lantern a moment to ignite. There was only enough oil in the small lamp to provide fuel for a few minutes, but with luck that would be all that I needed.

The work was slow, for the lock was an excellent one. In the process of picking it, however, I noticed and disarmed no fewer than three traps that had been set on the thing. Whatever was in this case had to be worth a great deal to merit such special attention. Finally, as the last of the oil in the lamp began to give out, I released the latch with a click that was entirely too loud for my taste. Then I opened the doors.

Inside I found exactly what I had hoped for. More than a dozen splendidly crafted bits of jewelry were displayed inside the case. The smallest was an ornate platinum ring that must have been worth twice the annual income of any man in Hazlan. The largest was a torque set with gleaming diamonds, whose value I could not imagine. More importantly, they each had the aura of magic about them. I cannot say how I knew this to be the case, but I did. As I lifted them gently from their resting places and dropped them into my small velvet sack, I could sense it.

As I have said, each of the treasures that I removed from the cabinet was magnificent. One by one, I claimed them, and in my heart, I felt the weight of gold in my safe growing and growing. If I wanted to, I could retire from thieving and live the rest of my days on the profit that I would realize from the sale of these items. To do so, however, would have been as great a crime as the theft of these treasures, for it would deprive the world of my talents.

When the twelfth item was secured, I snuffed the sputtering lamp and turned to go. Again, I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Then, as I stood there, I noticed something that I had not seen before. At first, I thought that it was simply an afterimage that remained with my eye from the glow of the lamp and the gleam of the wizard's valuables. Then, as my night vision sharpened, I saw that it was really there. Carefully, I crept over to examine it closer.

The item was a small disc, perhaps two inches across. It consisted of a polished crystal lens set in a silver frame that was etched with mysterious glyphs. The latter glowed ever so faintly blue in the darkness. I estimated its worth at a few hundred gold coins, as much for the delicate silver chain on which it hung as for the crystal itself. I almost decided to leave it behind, for there seemed no point in adding so minor an object to my collection. Something about the lens impressed me, however, so I scooped it up and started for the window.

As I slid the stained glass open again, I started to drop the crystal amulet into my velvet sack. Then, I decided that it was probably too fragile to store there, and I slipped it around my neck. I made certain that it hung inside my shirt so that the glow, minor though it was, would not give me away, and slipped quietly out of the tower.

My journey south to the main road and then west into Toyalis was uneventful. Certainly, the city watch was standing at the gates to search travelers as they always do, but I am Julio, and they never saw me pass by their posts. As the first rays of the sun began to brighten the distant horizon, I drew the door to my home shut behind me and raised a glass of brandy to the success of my little venture.

October 2nd From the Journal of Julio, Master Thief of Hazlan

A most curious thing has happened.

I was on my way to the guild halls with my newly acquired treasures when a cold rain began to fall. As I was unprepared for such a change in the weather, I hurriedly ducked into the Red Robin. The prospect of a warm mug of cider by the inn's fire seemed far more pleasant to me than lingering in the embrace of a frigid autumn shower.

The place was not full, but neither was it deserted. The rain had driven in more than a few new patrons, so Andreas the barkeep was more than a little busy filling new orders. I caught his attention, dropped a coin onto the bar, and drifted back into a corner with a mug of steaming cider.

I had only just tasted my drink when I felt a sensation of warmth from the pendant I had liberated from Hazlik's tower. This quickly increased until I feared that it might burn me, so I slipped my hand inside my tunic and drew out the crystal. The glow of the thing, which had been no brighter than that of a firefly before, was as great as a candle now. Slender traces of energy, looking much like small forks of lightning, ran around the silver frame and the runes on the crystal.

Just then, the door swung open and a pair of burly men walked in. They wore the utilitarian armor of the town watch and carried the great hammers of those socalled public servants. As these two cast their eyes over the Red Robin's patrons, everyone in the room fell silent. I whispered a silent wish that they might be looking for someone else, but I knew this was folly.

As the last whispers in the place faded, a third man stepped through the door, between the two warriors, and into the light of the hearth. An almost audible shudder of contempt swept through the crowd, for this was none other than Kagliara, the sadistic captain of the watch. I did not have to think long to realize what business might have brought him out of his decadent office and into the streets.

"Julio!" he bellowed. "I want Julio!"

Sitting there with the glowing pendant around my neck, it was impossible for me to avoid his notice. Our paths had crossed before, and he knew my face as well as I knew his own twisted countenance. Resigning myself to the fate that was mine, I stood up. Why couldn't he be looking for that vulgar Cordova?

"Well?" roared Kagliara. "Where is he?"

I was about to speak, when the truth dawned on me. Somehow, he could not see me. Clearly, some magic was at work. My mind flashed at once to the crystal. I looked down at the hand holding it, but apart from the azure discharges of the pendant, it looked quite normal. I was not invisible. . or was I? For all his talents, the great Julio is no wizard. I had never been invisible before and had no idea if I would be able to see myself when under the effects of such an enchantment. I decided to stay still and see what happened.

Andreas was the first to respond to Kagliara. He spoke in a hesitant voice that was hard to hear over the crackle of the fire, but his words were clear enough. "He was here only a moment ago. You could not have missed him by more than a few seconds!"

"Did anyone see him leave?" demanded the watch captain. No one responded, drawing a frustrated curse from Kagliara. He looked around the room once more, clearly oblivious to my presence. "The man who brings Julio to me will be well rewarded!" he hissed, turning to leave. With a powerful stride, he burst through the door and out into the rainy night. The brace of warriors spun crisply about and followed him out into the rain.

I let out my breath, which I suddenly realized I had been holding, and sat down again. I needed time to consider what this turn of events might mean. For instance, how long did I have before this magic wore thin and I was visible again? I did not know. One thing that I was certain of, however, was that I did not want to be in so public a place when it happened. I daresay that half a dozen of the Red Robin's patrons would have eagerly handed me over to Kagliara had they but been given the chance.

I darted into the night, welcomed by a crash of autumn lightning, and made my way back to my room. The wonders of this magical treasure threaten to overwhelm me, and I must consider how best to use this newfound power.

October 3rd From the Journal of Julio, Master Thief of Hazlan

Cordova is dead.

Only great effort enables me to write in this journal today. I keep telling myself that by writing down what has happened, I will be able to make sense of it.

After a great deal of thought, I decided that I would use this new power of invisibility to rid myself of that worthless Cordova. For years now I have put up with his ridiculous boasting. How many times have I dreamt of drawing my knife across his fat throat?

Of course, Julio is a thief, not a murderer. I have never seriously considered taking the life of another. But now, with the power of Hazlik's lens, there was no chance that I would be caught. Why shouldn't I do it? I thought long and hard about the prospect. In the end, it was not a difficult decision. Cordova would die.

By the time I left my home, the storm had stopped. The cobblestones were slick, and the deep puddles held the rippling reflections of amber street lamps. To the east I could see only the faintest glow of the coming sunrise. There was a sharp chill in the autumn air, and my breath curled into small clouds that drifted slowly away into the night.

I moved quickly through the streets. Twice I stopped to pull the lens out from under my clothes and examine it. I told myself that this was only a precaution, but perhaps I hoped that the flickering traces of lightning around it would be gone, that its power had faded away. No matter, the azure fire had not dimmed. Indeed, it burned brighter than ever. By the time I reached Cordova's house, I was confident of my invisibility.

Slipping into Cordova's home was not difficult. After all, he was a forger and confidence man by trade, not a burglar. His locks and safeguards were easily defeated. Once inside, I made my way quickly through the garishly decorated rooms until I came upon my enemy sleeping in an ornate bed.

The room was dark, for the gradually brightening sky outside could not penetrate the thick curtains that hung across the window. Cordova's snoring was so loud that I almost feared that it would shake the foundations of the building and bring the place crashing down. Even in sleep he was vulgar.

I looked around the room and saw a lamp resting beside the bed. Stepping without a sound across the wooden floor, I lifted the glass from the lantern and drew out a match. I lit the match and then the lantern, filling the room with an even yellow light. I placed the glowing lamp on the table again, making sure that it cracked against the wood with a loud report. At first, Cordova did not appear to notice. Then, something must have registered in his deficient brain, and his snoring sputtered out. With a shock, he sat up and gasped for air.

"Who is there?" he cried.

I said nothing. It was satisfying to watch his head swing back and forth as he frantically looked around the room for some sign an intruder. His eyes were wide with fear, and rivulets of sweat seemed to have suddenly burst from his brow. As I slipped my knife from its scabbard, I saw in his bloated face the look that cattle must have when they know that the butcher's knife is coming for them.

I struck quickly. My blade sank deep into his chest, and as I withdrew it a wash of blood began to pool on the front of his white nightshirt. He did not cry out in pain, but gasped in surprise. His hands clutched at the wound and came away soaked with crimson. Twice more my dagger bit into him, and at last he fell back in his bed. Blood spread out from the wounds, staining the blankets and pillows.

As his life trickled away, I decided that it was time to show myself. He must not be allowed to die without knowing that it was I, Julio, who had sealed his fate. I removed the shimmering lens and placed it on the table, beside the lamp.

Then, something curious happened. Cordova, though he looked right at me, asked again to know who it was that had attacked him. He could not see me! But how could that be? I had removed the crystal. I must be visible. Perhaps his eyes had grown dim with the loss of blood! Bending low over the dying man, I grabbed his shirt and dragged his face toward mine.

"It is I!" I shouted," Julio!"

There was still no sign of recognition in his eyes. The old fool hadn't seen me, and now he was unable to hear me as well. I dropped his almost lifeless body back onto the bed. This could not be! I would not be cheated of this moment! Cordova must know who had killed him. There must be some way that I could make my presence known to him.

Frantically I began to look around the room. Ah! I found it! Hidden away in the drawer of the table beside the bed was a stick of writing charcoal and several sheets of paper. I snatched out the stylus and one of the sheets, quickly writing down what I had said before, that it was Julio who had killed him. With satisfaction, I spun about and thrust the paper into his face.

He was dead.

Infuriated, I crushed the paper into a ball and hurled it across the room. Red rage swept through my soul, and I howled at the indignity. This could not be! I had finally rid myself, no, the world, of this offensive creature, and the fool had died ignorant of the hand that had killed him.

It took several seconds for my rage to pass. Suddenly, however, I saw clearly what had happened. I turned to look at the pendant, which seemed almost to mock me as it sparked and flashed. If removing it from my neck did not lift the magical aura from me, what would? The idea of being permanently invisible certainly did not appeal to me. But, no, it was worse than that. I was not only unseen, I was unheard.

I grabbed up the offensive lens and raced out of the building. My heart pounded in my ears, and the blood in my veins seemed to burn. When I reached my home, I burst in, slammed the door behind me, and bolted it in place.

October 4th From the Journal of Julio, Master Thief of Hazlan

This is madness.

I do not know how much longer I will be able to write in this journal. My hands are shaking so badly now that I can hardly read my own words. How can I describe what is happening to me? With every passing second, my grip on sanity seems harder to maintain. Still, the world must know what has happened.

After my encounter with Cordova, I returned home and locked myself in. I quickly transcribed my experiences into this book and then fell upon my bed. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Fear such as I have never known tore at my soul. Finally, I slipped into an exhausted slumber and slept for several hours.

When I awoke, the sun was setting in the west and a dark purple sky spread itself outside my window. Things seemed calmer now, and I was able to organize my thinking. As I knew little of the dark powers of sorcery, I decided that I must seek help. This done, however, I had no idea where to go. I knew no wizards or enchanters. After lengthy consideration, I resolved to seek out my fellows in the Thieves'Guild. Certainly there must be someone among that body who understood the weaving of spells and might be counted on to provide wise counsel. Slipping the shimmering lens into my pocket, I stepped out into the street.

While I expected the hall to be well occupied on this brisk evening, I had no idea that it would be as populated as it was. As I slipped inside through one of a dozen concealed entrances, I saw nearly every rogue in the city, from the lowest of the street thugs to the most dignified of confidence men. The great hall was packed.

I moved into the press of people, little caring if I bumped against those who could not see me. At the moment, stealth was not the object of my endeavor. If someone noticed me, so much the better. Indeed, I still had not considered what I would do to attract the attention of my peers or to explain my plight to them.

As I walked, my eyes swept back and forth across the room. The woman I wanted to see, Kassandra, stood near the front of the chamber. If anyone in the guild could help me, it would be she. I increased my pace.

Just before I reached her, she stepped onto an elevated platform and took her place behind an ornate lectern. Her delicate fingers lifted a small silver bell, and a shake of her wrist filled the hall with elegant ringing. At the piercing sound of this chime, everyone in the room fell silent. Even I, for all my pressing business, slowed to a halt in order to hear what she had to say. I suppose that I should have guessed, but my thoughts were not flowing smoothly on that autumn day.

"Listen to me, all," she said in a smooth, even voice. "I stand before you today with a sad announcement. Cordova, one of our most prominent and beloved members, has been murdered."

I almost laughed at her sincerity. Could it be that I was the only one who had seen that bloated fool for the charlatan that he was? Impossible. Others in the room must even then have been struggling to keep from laughing at the thought that Cordova had been beloved by the other members of the guild. I attributed the widely spread gasps of surprise and alarm as nothing more than politeness on the part of Cordova's contemporaries.

Of course, to kill a member of the guild, even one as unworthy as he, was to invite the ultimate penalty from the assembly. Were it not for the cloak of invisibility that I had employed, I should not have dared to attempt the feat myself. After all, even the most clever of rogues could not hope to escape the vengeance of five score others, no matter how great the difference in their individual talents.

"Who has done this?" came a cry from the crowd. I must admit that the speaker sounded sincere. Perhaps the bloated pig had managed to find one friend among the guild. I supposed that the law of averages would make even that unlikely event a certainty.

To my horror, Kassandra did not dismiss the answer as unknown. Instead, she reached into her pocket and drew out a folded bit of paper. Wrinkles and creases in the creamy square showed that it had once been crumpled. As she opened it, I recognized it as the frantic letter I had written to Cordova in that failed attempt to make myself known to him. In my panicked state I had not thought to pick up the incriminating note. I could say nothing as Kassandra began to read the vindictive words that I had intended for only Cordova's eyes.

At last, the shock faded. I sprang forward and flung my hand out. I would reclaim the letter and explain what had happened to me. Certainly they would believe me if I claimed that it was some spell of the wizard that had motivated me to do the deed I had done. I reached the front of the chamber just as the lithe Kassandra finished her reading. My fingers curled around the note, and I pulled it out of her hand.

At least, such was my intent. Imagine my surprise when the paper was not affected in the least by my clawing grasp. I tried again, slapping wildly at it in an attempt to knock it from her slender Fingers. Again, there was no reaction.

I stood perfectly still for a moment. I struggled to control myself, aware that panic and madness were hovering on the fringes of my soul. Kassandra dropped the paper as murmurs of alarm rippled through the crowd. People began to shout, demanding that I be found and killed, but I paid no attention to them. My whole being seemed to be wrapped up in that tumbling scrap of paper. If I could do nothing to affect it, then I was already lost.

With every bit of mental effort that I could muster, I reached out for the incriminating note. It settled onto my hand. . and stopped! For nearly a second it rested in my palm, the sensation of it racing like a mixture of pain and pleasure through my nerves. Then the sound of Kassandra ordering the members of the guild to find me and kill me broke my concentration. The paper trembled, passed through my fingers, and did not stop again until it rested upon the floor.

As the others moved out into the night, I moved with them. I could not stand the thoughts in my head. What would become of me? I could not imagine.

Then, a single idea became fixed in my mind. This diary would be my voice. I would record what had happened to me on the pages of this book and leave it where others would find it. Perhaps someone will discover a way to undo the terrible curse that has fallen upon me.

I returned to my room, arriving before any of the guildsmen had reached it. It took me no fewer that three attempts to lift the quill that I now write with. At last, however, I mustered the required concentration and set about recording my experiences.

I do not know how much longer I will be able to write. The effort of will required to keep the pen from slipping through my hand becomes greater with each passing second. In the end, I will simply. .

Epilogue

A tumbling snow drifted down from the empty black of a midnight sky. Throughout the dark domain of Hazlan, it smoothed over the landscape with a delicate layer of white. The peaceful tranquility of this, the first snow of the looming winter, could not have been in greater contrast to the hectic rush of the townsfolk in Toyalis earlier that day as they made ready for the harsh hand of weather that would soon assail them.

The last bell of midnight tolled out across the countryside, and all was calm and still and quiet. Only one light broke the perfection of this darkness, and none of the domain's residents saw that, for it was perched high atop a stone tower, well away from the road that ran from Toyalis to Slyvar. This amber glow radiated from the laboratory of the foul wizard Hazlik, and his labors were not such that any of Hazlan's folk cared to know of them.

Cloistered away within his magically warded keep, the wizard moved to and fro about his workshop. As he drifted past trays of chemicals, shelves of arcane scrolls, and racks of unusual objects, his withered hands darted out to gather up various items. In the end, he came to stand next to a slender table over which a silken blanket had been draped.

Hazlik pointed at a small lamp that rested upon the table. With a sudden spark, it came to life and spilled an even yellow light upon the counter and the small crystal disc that lay upon it. The wizard leaned low over the crystal, allowing the golden light to wash across his gnarled face, almost bisected by a terrible scar.

Hazlik picked up the lens and cast a careful eye upon it. Clearly, he could discern more than the average man with his penetrating gaze. After several minutes of examination, he spoke. At the sound of his words, a quill pen sprang into action, recording what he said in a great book.

"Final notes on experiment twenty-seven dash thirteen. As in my twelve previous attempts to pierce the 'border ethereal and escape from this demiplane, the subject has broken up and become trapped in an incorporeal form. There is no reason to believe that this procedure is without hope of success, however. Perhaps I am taking the wrong approach. In my next experiment, I will alter the balance of astral and ethereal vapors. If I am correct, this will enable the subject to regain a corporeal form with only a minimal effort. After all, there is cause for hope. This subject resisted fading from existence for fully forty-eight hours longer than all previous subjects."