Gary Gygax: City of Hawks

“And thus the events of the past few years have been spun out,” Rexfelis, Lord of All Cats, said, looking squarely at Gord.

“You played no part in these?” the young man asked doubtfully.

The Catlord shrugged. “Some, but not directly. The rings I made and dweomered so long ago have certainly had some effect on the course of things, I suppose…”

“Mine and the eight others, you mean? I know how my own ring can change me from man to leopard, allows me to see and perceive as a cat does, and has spared me from death and worse twice now. Yet I do not understand why it works as it does for me, and I do not appreciate the part of the other rings, nor for that matter the reason for you making them.”

“That is a matter for another time. I may be superhuman, Gord; by standards of men, I am a powerful being. Still, I have limitations and am subject to many shortcomings. I have need to learn much before I am prepared to discuss the rings. Some I know already, and more I will learn soon, I think. The time is not far off, my young protege, when you and I will again speak of the rings-and I think of the matter of your heritage, too.”

“You know of that?” Gord shot up, as if propelled from a catapult, from the couch on which he had been reclining. “Tell me!”

The long, sinewy fingers of the Catlord squeezed the young man’s shoulders reassuringly as his hands pressed Gord back upon the seat. “Be at ease. I have nothing but suspicions at this time. When we speak of rings, then we will also discuss the mysteries which surround you, Gord. As I said, I have no divine knowledge to impart. Just as you, I too must seek and find, study and learn, gather intelligence and analyze information.

“I have suspicions, suppositions based on you, but that is all they are. Your weird is masked, Gord. We have spoken of that before. Some facts I have discovered, but most of these are already known to you as well. You are more than you were, would you not say so?”

Gord nodded at that and would have replied, but Rexfelis was not finished.

“I am not much concerned,” the Lord of Cats continued, “with affairs of men or the powers dwelling on other planes. I am disinterested more than uninterested. Those who seek equilibrium are similar to me, but they also actively meddle in things when one side or another seems to be tipping the balance toward itself. You have served the Balance and will do so in the future. In fact, you might just be the very fulcrum of things to come.”

“You speak in riddles as always, Lord Rexfelis. What must I do to get straight answers from you?” Gord asked crossly. He was still agitated, and this was plainly shown by his expression, voice, and tense body. In fact, the young man resembled an angry cat confronting another one, ready to spring at the least provocation.

“You must not presume upon my friendship,” the Lord of Cats remarked, turning his back upon his guest. He walked over to where a sideboard held a tall ewer of kumis and poured himself a goblet of the fermented milk. He turned, drank, and then spoke to Gord again.

“I am fond of you personally, and you have a role which is important. But I am not sure if I like what you might do, nor do I believe that I will be pleased much by what is to come. Do not again speak to me so, Gord the Unknown, Gord the Rogue-not unless you are prepared to accept my enmity and accept a challenge from me.”

That was unthinkable. The young man knew very well that although he could best any of those minions of the Catlord that surrounded him, Gord was certainly no match for Rexfelis in any respect-save perhaps at swordplay, and even that was doubtful. Furthermore, Gord had no desire to quarrel with this being, a lord who had most certainly given him more than any other personage, human or otherwise.

“I beg your forgiveness, Lord of Cats,” Gord said with humility. “I allowed my heart to rule my head, and my frustration to wag my tongue. I ask your pardon, and I shall not so offend again.”

Rexfelis smiled, a cat’s unfathomable smile. “You have it, even though I am quite positive you will offend me in the future.”

“Future, lord? You speak of that most often, yet you also say that you are not able to have my rede. You see my point?”

“Yes. Of course. In that I am somewhat remiss. I meant to speak to you as to exactly what I am certain of. Please have some refreshment, relax, and I will do so now.”

Gord complied with difficulty. For some time now, the young adventurer had suspected that something lay behind Rexfelis’ unexpected appearances and seemingly casual interest in his affairs. This meeting confirmed Gord’s suspicions. As the Catlord began speaking, the young adventurer composed himself as well as he could so as to absorb every word. Rexfelis told him that the interaction between himself and Gord had occurred with seeming coincidence, but the Catlord was himself uneasy about that, for seldom did he relate to humans as had happened with Gord. Therefore, Rexfelis had begun some investigation of things.

“You are entangled with me, Gord, with the Balance, with demons, and even with the foul Infestix. It was no accident, I think, that he himself came to slay you in his avatar of Nerull. It was foreordained, just as your coming here was written. Because of the tangling, and the interference, I can see but little more of your skein, my young friend. Be comforted, though, for if I cannot, it is most improbable that any other can either, including your greatest enemies, demon, daemon, or devil.

“Think on it. The hells sent a great minion of theirs to slay you, the bestial pig-thing which you slew and which in turn seemingly did for you. They could not foresee the result!”

“Nerull failed for the same reason, then?”

“Correct, Gord. None but yourself can see what is written for you-perhaps even you can’t pierce the veils, but possibly you will. You must try, if you can.”

“Of dweomers and scrying I know nothing,” the young man commented. “But if it seems possible, I will try… Can you tell me nothing more than that?”

Rexfelis sighed, nodding slowly. “You must know all, mustn’t you? Curiosity, Gord, killed the cat!” Both laughed at that, and then the Catlord resumed speaking. “A bad joke, really. I have seen that you will have more trials, perilous journeys, tests, and duels to the death-hardly unusual stuff for an adventurer such as you, young fellow! And first you will have to face those of my own folk who mean to test you. I fear that you are not uniformly liked here…”

“That’s no surprise,” Gord interjected. “Some of your cat-folk here are haughty and overbearing to the point of annoyance. I have brought one or two of them down a peg.”

“Yes,” the Catlord observed dryly, “that you have. Thereafter, Gord, you will be tested mentally and physically by those of Evil, as well as by nature itself. If you somehow survive that, and I mean the survival of mind and ethics as well as pure physical survival, it seems that you must return to the City of Grey-hawk one last time.”

That puzzled the young thief. “Must return? One last time? What I do is my own will, and Greyhawk is my only home. I shall go there or not as I choose, and it will be more than once, I trow!”

“Do you now? You are no more free to do as you would than am I-less so, in fact. Let that be. Perhaps it is a changeable condition. Whatever you think, I did foresee that you would return to Grey-hawk but once more, and that only to repay some past debt. The debt I cannot get the rede of, but it seemed to be one not directly connected to you. I mention that,” the Lord of Cats added, “because there was an inkling in the foreseeing.”

“Of what?” Gord asked quietly.