Richard Meyers: Murder in Halruaa

‘Tour place in line?” Covington suggested, already moving forward. “You’re too kind.” It seemed that youth, vitality, and pleasant looks were at a premium at the Lallor Gate. Pryce rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Cushy job for life indeed! If the respect and kindnesses of these people were any evidence, he was going to like it here… a lot!

He wasn’t even daunted by the grave gate guard who got closer and closer as each successive person saw Pryce, did a double take, and then offered him his or her place in line. The only thing that gave him pause was what looked like a difficult test that awaited him when he reached the one person between him and the big-eyed gate itself.

The first man in linea skinny, nervous sort with an Adam’s apple that skipped up and down like a bouncing ballcouldn’t give up his place because he was already in the midst of the entry examination. It soon became abundantly clear that access to Lallor came only after a thorough explanation of who you were and a complete examination of what you could be.

An admissions clerk in a thick, elegant hooded vestment sat behind a floating slab of marble, upon which rested a pile of parchment. The man’s face was living proof of the law of gravity. Everything was sinking on his wizened visage, from the bags under his watery blue eyes to the jowls that hung like a hairless beard on either side of a mouth that looked like an upside-down horseshoe.

Standing slightly behind this clearly disapproving character was a stone golem, a more classic example of which Pryce could hardly imagine. Nine and a half feet tall, at least two thousand pounds, and chiseled to look like a cross between a gigantic headstone and a huge tree trunk, it loomed menacingly between the clerk and the gate.

Its rock eyes were closed, its nose flat and wide, and its long lips gave an impression of being slightly irked. Its body had only the merest suggestion of legs, giving Pryce the distinct feeling that it could not be tipped or knocked over. The most impressive and noticeable aspect of the thing, however, was its hands. They were huge and flat, seemingly made to create thunder if the creature ever applauded. Covington could imagine a Lallor invader getting his head turned to flatbread by a single resounding clap. The monstrous golem had the effect it was no doubt created for: to discourage anyone except the most foolhardy or suicidal from making a run for the freedom and prosperity that Lallor promised.

Pryce’s previous bravado disappeared like a popping soap bubble. He gritted his teeth in concern and drew in a long breath. Then he became aware of the admissions clerk’s questions to the only person who remained between Pryce and the head of the line.

“Race?” The gatekeeper’s voice was similar to his face: heavy, thick, and deep.

“Human,” the small, bent, thin person in front of Pryce said quickly and quietly, manhandling his hat nervously.

The clerk suddenly went on quickly, as if the nervous man hadn’t spoken. “A, dwarf; B, elf; C, gnome; D, half-elf; E, halfling; F, human; G, other.”

“Uh, that would be F, sir. Yes, definitely F.”

The clerk ignored the dithering. He seemed only to hear the letter “F” and duly marked it down with a quill pen. Then he continued the interrogation, his voice again somber and slow. “Class?”

The man waited for the clerk to continue, but when he didn’t, the befuddled person felt compelled to say, “Some schooling, sir…”

“A, bard; B, priest; C, vagabond; D, warrior; E, wizard; F, other.”

“Oh! Uh… C, I suppose… No, A! Yes, that’s right, A” The clerk stopped dead, then looked up slowly, ominously. “Well, which is it? A or C?”

The skinny man’s eyes flicked nervously to the expressionless, motionless golem. “I have traveled many miles, sir,” he said with a wan smile. “I wish to be an entertainer for the good people within the city.”

The clerk stared at him silently. Pryce found himself holding his breath, but suddenly the silence was broken as the clerk sonorously said “C,” marked it down, then continued quickly. “Are you, or have you ever known, a thief?”

The nervous man chirped, “No, sir!”

“Do you possess skills in pickpocketing, lock opening, trap removal, camouflage, wall climbing, shadow hiding, or silent movement?” Pryce inwardly winced at mention of the second item, plus the last three. He began to work his mouth nervously, stretching his lips across his teeth, in preparation for the coming interview. This was not going to be easy… not with that big eye above them, watching for any sign of discomfort, and the golem below, waiting to act as official bouncer.

“No, sir, I assure you,” said the little man earnestly. “I only want to entertain, and I hope to find favor with the good people of Lallor.”

“How long do you intend to audition?” the clerk intoned, looking up from his parchment.

At this question, the man started to relax. “I think I would need only a fortnight permit, sir. By then I’m sure I could show my worth.”

“Fine,” said the clerk brusquely, seemingly no longer concerned with the man. He was now paying attention only to his parchment, where he was rapidly writing something, the quill pen jiggling busily. But just as the little man finally felt comfortable enough to breathe a sigh of relief and release a broad smile, the clerk looked up again suddenly and said, ‘Two men play five games of chance. Each man wins the same number of games, and there are no ties. How can this be?”

“Whawhat?” the surprised little man stammered.

‘Two men. Five games. Each wins. No ties. How?”

“I… but… how does this

“Come, come, sir,” the gatekeeper burbled reasonably. “Surely you didn’t think that desire was enough to secure entry to Lallor.

We are an exclusive community, sir. We must know that those who seek to entertainespecially those who seek to entertain have their wits about them. Now, come along, please hurry. How can two men play five games with no ties and both win?”

“I’m sorry.” The little man was first confused, then desperate, then crestfallen. “II”

Pryce put a hand on his shoulder. “They weren’t playing each other,” he whispered.

“What?”

“The two men weren’t playing each other,” he repeated. “That’s the only way they could both win an equal number of games.”

Comprehension spread across the little man’s face. The reaction of the clerk, however, was not so beneficent. He struggled to his feet, both fists shaking on the floating marble slab. “I beg your pardon, sir!” he said angrily. “How dare you?”

Pryce knew he had to think and talk even faster now. If that golem was psychically attuned to the clerk’s emotions, his head was applesauce. There was only one thing to do: Distract attention from himself.

“I apologize, but it is imperative I speak to someone in authority. It is about my friend. Gamor Turkal____________________ ” To his amazement,

Pryce watched the clerk’s wrathful expression melt, then, even more incredibly, rise like a basset hound being offered prime steak. The clerk then repeated his previous admonition, but the tone this time was one of apology.

“Sir… I beg your pardon!”

“Yes, yes,” Pryce said humbly. “But my friend Gamor…” He started to point back down the road.

“Of course, sir!” the clerk interrupted, hurrying around the floating marble slab. “Gamor Turkal told us of your coming. We have been waiting for you!”

‘You have?”

“Of course,” the clerk said enthusiastically, raising an arm to put over Pryce’s shoulders, then thinking better of it. “We’ve been awaiting your arrival for some time.”