David Wise - Tales of Ravenloft

"I intend to," Welse growled. He unbuckled the bag and threw back the flap. The folds took on the yellow hue of the firelight, but there was no disguising the suppleness of the fabric, the smoothness of the tightly woven web-thin threads.

"I have taken great care with it," the man said. "You'll find it in perfect condition.

"And you've never owned such a prize, have you? "

"Owned?" The old man laughed, a soothing sound from deep in his throat like the purr of some great cat. "I would not purchase this for myself. Consider what possessing it has done to you."

As had happened to his son, the most gentle suggestion was enough to force Welse to focus honestly on his acts. He had terrorized his family, contributed to the death of his youngest son, destroyed his wares and. .

As he thought once more of Geryn, he began to cry, then once more forced the feeling back, replacing it with what seemed like just fury. "I did what was necessary," he declared stubbornly, then pulled the cloth from the bag. "If it has been damaged in any way. . "he began.

He never finished.

The cloth tumbled over his outstretched arm, but the folds did not fall to the ground. Though the night was still, the cloth moved, rising between Welse and the fire.

The cloth was so thin that, for a moment, he could see the flicker of the flames on the other side of it.

And within the weave itself, something moved. The brown smudge that Ronae had said looked like a face was indeed a face. The eyes were open and staring at him. The lips parted, rising at the corners in a leer of anticipation, of greeting.

This creature that had killed his youngest son now greeted Welse as an equal.

And Welse had killed the oldest.

Horrified, Welse tried to fling the cloth away, but it was already too late. The silvery folds covered him. The need of the fibers to absorb and possess sucked the breath from his lungs, the life from his body.

Though he saw the old man standing by the fire and heard him crying out in alarm, Welse could not answer, could not move. For a moment Welse thought he would die, but death somehow eluded him. Instead, he felt his body thin until it had no more substance than the smoke still rising from the fire. The cloth, so light and supple a moment ago, weighed down on him, absorbing his essence.

Bodiless, but not dead. Seeing, but unable to act. Welse watched the old man lift the cloth from the ground and pause to study his face as Ronae had done to the thief's face some days before.

"I have done no wrong," the man said, and Welse understood that he spoke to the cloth rather than to him. "And I will do no wrong in all the days I possess you. I hope the one who has paid so well for you has a conscience as clear as mine."

With a twisted smile, the old man added," I doubt it."

There would be others, Welse knew then. Many others.

Welse would never lack for company, not here on these folds.

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.