4. The Beggar King

The players begin to show up.

Excerpt from The Hero’s Guild Manual 586^th Edition, edited by Guild Master Grigor Mason

 

THE BEGGAR KING

The League of Thieves is ruled by an individual who is given the title of Exemplary Overmaster and Glorious Chairman of the League of Thieves and Ruler of the Kingdom of the Shadowdwellers. As that is a bit of a mouthful to say, this individual is commonly referred to as the Beggar King (or Beggar Queen when appropriate).

 

Information as to how each Overmaster is selected is sketchy. It is known that it is not a hereditary position, nor does it seem to be the result of any general election or Imperial appointment. We do know that the position can be precarious; rarely do those who hold the title of Beggar King retire from the office. Assassinations are common, although the assassin almost never survives the murderous act. To the best of our knowledge, the Beggar King chooses his or her successor, although his or her will is not always followed. .

 

We do know that the title is a lucrative one. The current Beggar King apparently lives amongst wealth that rivals that of the Imperial Palace, although the Guild has never been able to gain any sort of intelligence about the location and grandeur of the Beggar King’s palace beyond what the League seems to be willing to tell us themselves.

 

The Beggar King’s rule is absolute and his will is law within the League. He commands an army of assassins and footpads that maintain his rule within the League and those unfortunate thieves who displease the Beggar King or betray his commands will find themselves on the wrong end of a stealth blade, the traditional method of execution of thieves by the Beggar King.

 

The current Beggar King has ruled the League of Thieves for nearly thirty years, an unusually long time by the standards of the League. His identity is a closely guarded secret, and to our knowledge, no Guild member has ever met directly with the Beggar King �" he normally sends ambassadors for negotiation with the Guild or the Imperial Palace. Of course, given the League’s predilection for deception, one of the ambassadors could have been the Beggar King incognito. This particular Beggar King is known for being particularly well-informed about even the most seemingly insignificant events going on within the Realm. He has been ruthless and at times brutal, but for the most part has been fair and logical in his dealings with the Guild, particularly when it concerns the self-interest of the League and more to the point, of the Beggar King himself.

 

           *          *          *

 

            The next several hours were spent doing the things that thieves spend most of their lives learning to do. Tristan proved to be adept at moving soundlessly, hiding in shadow, opening locked door without benefit of key and finding hidden doors, tripwires, trapdoors, false floors, as well as detecting and disarming spells of protection. He was able to discover and disarm every sort of trap and obstacle Porrin could throw at him. Every task the Master Thief gave him to do, Tristan mastered in a matter of minutes, often in moments. It quickly became apparent that Tristan was at least as skilled as Porrin was, as the Beggar King had predicted. Still, Porrin drove Tristan hard, making sure that the novice had each and every skill mastered. Every time, the boy was more than equal to the challenge.

            At length, a young sprite in ornate livery scuttled in through a side door and whispered in the Keth’s ear. It was the first living creature Tristan had seen in the Underhalls other than Porrin since he had dispatched the Guardhound. The Master Thief looked surprise at the message, but nodded to the sprite who gave Tristan a nervous look and scampered out the way he had come. Porrin stretched and said “It is apparent that there is naught I can teach you here. As we discussed, you will be given standing in the League of Thieves, but the Beggar King is here now and requires your immediate presence. Follow me.” That brought Tristan up short and he was unmoving as the Keth began walking towards a double set of doors opposite the one they had come in. The novice shook his head as if to clear it, and then jogged quickly to catch up to Porrin. He remarked to the grim-faced Keth “You didn’t expect him to be here, did you?”

            Porrin glanced at Tristan thoughtfully and Tristan didn’t think he was going to respond at first, but then he said “No, I was led to believe he would not be here. For him to leave his palace and come here is highly unusual, to say the least. This affair must be very important for him to come personally. He dislikes travel for reasons that will become apparent in a few moments.”

            The Keth opened the doors and they passed into a long, narrow chamber. Tristan could see there were hidden peepholes so that the training area could be observed unobtrusively. They passed through another set of doors and entered a comfortable sitting room, richly furnished. A silver pitcher filled with sweet wine sat on a table where platters of bread, cheese, fruit and pastries sat invitingly. Comfortable chairs sat on either side of the table, but at the head of the table was a divan, looking so plush and inviting it was almost obscene and on it sat the focus of Tristan’s attention.

            An aged goblin sat there, white wispy hair barely covering a mottled bald pate. He wore a plain tunic and breeches, and nothing about him seemed particularly noteworthy but his eyes, which glittered with enormous intelligence. Porrin bowed low to the goblin and Tristan followed suit, with a murmured “Your majesty.”

            The Beggar King got up and walked to the Keth, embracing him. “Porrin, my old friend. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was coming. Originally, I hadn’t intended to travel to Safehaven, but I changed my mind after you left.” The Keth helped the Beggar King return to his seat, and Tristan noticed how slowly and painfully the old goblin moved, limbs contorted into odd positions. Once he was seated, the aged goblin turned to Tristan and said “Please forgive me for sitting, Tristan Scarborough, but I’m afraid I’m a very old man. I find it more comfortable to recline.” Tristan replied honestly “No offense taken, your majesty. Please make yourself as comfortable as possible.”

            The old goblin nodded. “Thank you for your kindness. I’m afraid the seaports make my arthritis, as bad as it is, much worse which is why my time here will be brief.” He indicated the table between them. “Please help yourself to refreshments, then sit and make yourself comfortable. I’m sure you must be both hungry and thirsty after that training session.” Both Porrin and Tristan took healthy helpings of food and wine. The sprite that had spoken to Porrin earlier appeared with a goblet of wine for the Beggar King, set it on the table next to him, and left as wordlessly as he had come in. The Overmaster of the League of Thieves took a sip of wine and sighed. “Ahhh, a fine vintage. From Shile, if I’m not mistaken.” Tristan took a sip and immediately recognized it as one of his favorite vintages from home. He wondered if that was accidental and decided it wasn’t.

            The Beggar King smiled wanly at the novice and began. “As you have guessed, I have been observing you. Not just your training here in the Underhalls, although I have been doing that too, and a most remarkable performance it was. No, it must be said Tristan that you are more than you seem. Much more than I could explain to you, or that you would believe if I told you. Who you are, why your memory was taken from you, what your destiny is, these things are known to me, but before you ask, these questions I will not answer now. It is not my place to and in any case, you will learn these things in due course, most essentially when it is the right time for you to know and accept the way of things. I can tell you; however, a few things that may help ease your way.”

            Tristan felt like someone had hurled a fireball at him immediately followed by a spell of freezing. He shook his head and said “I can only bow to your wisdom, your majesty, and am eager to learn that which you feel comfortable in teaching me.” The goblin laughed, a sound not unlike the crinkling of parchment, and clapped his hands. “A diplomatic answer, young man! You may well become a most formidable presence in the Imperial court one day, but that is for another time and place. As for your memory, I can say only that it was taken from you only for your benefit and protection, and it was done with your permission and understanding by those who love you most.”

            When the goblin paused, Tristan felt emboldened enough to ask “Protection from whom, if I may ask your majesty?” The Beggar King smiled, and it was a cold smile. “That is a more complex question than you think. Ur Bathog is the most obvious answer, but that is not the only one. There are also those within the Realm who would not like to see you succeed. Those who are power-hungry and ambitious, self-serving and ruthless.” He smiled thinly at Tristan. “I realize I describe myself, but those I speak of do not have my wisdom or perspective.”

            Tristan found himself liking the Beggar King immensely, and could readily see why the Keth adored him so.” Or your sense of humor, either.” The goblin laughed again, and for a moment it seemed like many years dropped from his face. “Most certainly not, although Porrin will tell you that my sense of humor is sometimes an acquired taste at best.” Tristan glanced at Porrin and found the Keth smiling affectionately at his King.

            The novice turned serious. “No doubt, but that leads to a question, if you don’t mind answering it your majesty. If those who crave power wish to see me fail, they must be afraid that I can acquire or dispense power, and yet here I sit a novice in the Hero’s Guild, certainly not a man who could be considered a broker of power. How can this be?”

            The goblin smiled and nodded at the young novice. “Porrin, he asks very good questions. You would do well to give him good answers.” The Keth smiled and nodded. “As you wish your majesty.” The goblin, still smiling, turned to the novice. “That is a very intuitive question, young man, and the easy answer is that it is not you but what you seek that is the source of that power, but that is not a good answer. Not good in the sense that it is misleading. Yes, the artifact is certainly part of the equation, but not all of it. It is a mixture, of both you and it, or rather, what you can do with it once you have acquired it.”

            The Beggar King turned to the master thief. “Porrin, I dislike talking around you, and I must be blunt; knowing your loyalty is to me, I would not be surprised if this talk is beginning thoughts that you might acquire this object for my use.” Porrin cocked his head at his king, but did not change expression. Porrin often noted the same sort of thing amongst card players in the Shile Guild Hall. The Beggar King continued, “You must resist such impulses, my friend. Believe me; I have considered the very same thing.”

            The ancient goblin gestured at Tristan. “Before we continue, you have noticed that Porrin does not know exactly what artifact you seek. I, of course, know exactly what you are searching for. Porrin, has Tristan told you anything about this quest?”

 “He has not, your majesty.”

            The King nodded. “Excellent. This was another test, Tristan. How could we, after all, trust you with our secrets if you cannot keep your own?” The Beggar King smiled. “Of course, at this point, there is not much for you to tell in any case. The Guild has an idea of what you are seeking, and even they have not told you everything they know. The Council of Colors knows much more, and they would not tell you. I know as much as they, and there are things I believe you must know. The Council will not be pleased if they find out I have told you. In telling you even this much, I am revealing much about the League. Can you tell me what?”

            Tristan responded. “At the very least, you have excellent intelligence both within the Council of Colors and the Guild.” The goblin nodded. “Were the Council to discover this, people would die, some of them who bear no responsibility in the matter. I am placing lives within your hands, Tristan, lives of people you do not know. You must get used to this.”

            He sighed and took another sip of wine. He looked troubled, and Tristan again noticed that each movement was very painful for the Beggar King. He turned to Porrin. “I had thought, Porrin, that with this Orb �" that is what you seek incidentally, the Orb of Murandas �" I could rival the Emperor and the Spider Queen themselves for power in the Realm and beyond it. The League would be safe forever.” The Keth leaned forward, his face a mask of intense concentration. The King sighed. “But that was an illusion. To use the Orb is a delicate and dangerous thing. It is not just a magical artifact, it is much more. That is what I wish to discuss with you now.”

            Tristan leaned forward, interested. The Beggar King took another sip of wine and cleared his throat. “Nobody knows exactly what the Orb is. That it is not made by any creature of the Realm is certain. The power it contains is incalculable. There are very few who even know of its existence, so there are no real scholarly treatises on the subject. Most is just the ravings of lunatics or prophets, which are often one and the same.” Tristan grinned ruefully at that.

            The goblin continued, “There is a great deal of evidence that the pocket dimensions were created by the use of the Orb. I believe that you have already been told this.” Tristan nodded, but the Beggar King continued without pause. “There are also those that believe that the Orb was responsible for the creation of reality itself. There is no true evidence of this, of course.” He turned to Porrin. “My friend, I must instruct you thusly. You must not, under any circumstance, handle the Orb, even if you and all your company will die without it. Only Tristan may handle the Orb; if anyone else in the company attempts to handle it, you must kill them immediately.”

            There was silence for a moment before the Keth responded quietly “Yes, your majesty.” The Beggar King raised a withered hand and waggled a finger towards the Keth. “Mind you, do not even think of stealing the Orb and bringing it to me. If you do, every last soul in the League of Thieves will die within a year. This has been foretold to me by an impeccable source, and I believe it. The Orb is more important than any and all of your lives, my friend. It is with heavy heart I send you on this quest, but it is only you that I can trust with it.”

            Tristan felt a sick feeling in his stomach. The goblin smiled. “You are uncomfortable with the idea that Porrin will assassinate one of your company? This is of no consequence. The Orb is integral to the survival of our world. I will do anything to insure its wellbeing, and that of the one who is foretold to wield it. Understand this if you understand naught else.”

            The Beggar King coughed and turned to Porrin. “My friend Porrin, what I say now is for Tristan’s ears alone. I will ask you to wait in the antechamber. He will join you there shortly, and you both shall return to the Heroes Guildhall without delay therefore. I will return to the desert so I may rest. Be careful on this journey, my friend �" return to me with many tales of wonder.” The Keth stood up, bowed low and said quietly “I will, my king.” He turned and left, closing the doors after him.

            The ancient goblin smiled and turned to the novice. “We have much to discuss, young man, although much of this must wait until your return. We will speak more of the Lost Child, and more importantly to you, who you are and how you came to be where you are now. For now, you must guard the Orb with your life and the lives of your comrades. To protect the Orb, you must be willing to let those you care about die if need be. This is a heavy burden, but one you must be willing to take up. The Orb is far too dangerous to be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. Better that everyone you know and love die than that should happen.” Tristan’s face was stoic but inside a seething mass of turmoil. Who was he to decide who was to live and who was to die? He did not feel qualified to make that decision. The Beggar King seemed to read his mind. “It is not a burden you welcome I daresay. How could you? Mere days ago you were an apprentice in the Heroes Guild looking for a caravan to guard.” The old goblin cackled and gestured. “It is, all the same, your burden to shoulder. Sometimes, my friend, destiny has a way of putting us in places we don’t want to be.

            “And as for your company, it has come to my attention that one of them is in the employ of Ur Bathog and this spy will seek to turn the Orb over to the Spider Queen.” Tristan was thunderstruck, involuntarily coming to his feet. “A traitor? But how do you know? Who is it?” The Beggar King gestured for Tristan to return to his seat, which he did. “Unfortunately, I know not which one of your company is the spy, but I believe that whoever it might be will not make their move until the Orb is safely out of the caverns. There, I believe the Spider Queen will await you. You must remember that the traitor may be any one of your company. It may be Connor Kerryman, or even Porrin. You must be on your guard and give your trust sparingly. You are fully capable, given your background, of surviving this. Believe it or not, you are not in the unavoidable trap of the Gods.”

            Tristan was slumped in his seat, feeling the room whirl around him. “It certainly feels as if I am.” The Beggar King’s voice was surprisingly gentle as he replied. “Young man, the truth of good and evil is that you cannot have one without the other, and that the two are usually in balance, although that is not always the case. The re-emergence of the Orb will be a crux of great events that will either destroy the Realm, or save it forever. Not even the Gods know which.”

            Tristan looked up to see the goblin smiling at him. “Do not despair; Tristan; as you have enemies you also have many friends on this quest, some you do not yet know. You are not alone young man. Remember that well.” Tristan shook his head. “But Porrin is your friend. You cannot even trust him?”

            The goblin frowned. “The Beggar King has no friends, young Tristan. It is a fact of holding a position of such authority that to be a good leader you must put aside your feelings. Yes, I have known Porrin for many years, have kept his council and have upon occasion trusted him with my very life and the well-being of the League of Thieves. Yet, I say to you Tristan, trust him not. The purest heart may be corrupted, young novice, and Porrin is far from pure of heart. He most certainly has a price, and the Spider Queen, no doubt, is willing to pay it.

            “I say to you, that you alone are the only one that embarks on this quest I can trust. You are either the Lost Child or you are not. If you are not, you will die. If you are, the prophecies name you the Protector of Life, the very antithesis of the Spider Queen. So, either you are a good man who can be trusted, and if you are not you will die. It is not hard to decide in your case.” The boy grinned ruefully at that. “I suppose you’re right,” said Tristan, “but this is not easy for me to hear. I feel like a great burden has been dumped on my shoulders.”

            The Beggar King gestured. “So it has, young pup. Make no mistake about that. If it is of any comfort to you, I believe you have the strength to bear this burden. The Gods must think so too, else they would not have given it to you to bear.” Tristan nodded. “I know, your majesty �" the Gods never give you more than you can bear to handle. My mentor said this to me often.”

            The Beggar King smiled. “It is of cold comfort, I know, but I have found it to be true.” The ancient goblin stirred painfully on his divan, and Tristan could see the pain wracking the old King’s body, although the mind inside it was keen and penetrating. Fire still burned in the King’s eyes, and Tristan felt that it would be a grave mistake to underestimate this man or worse yet, make an enemy of him. The Beggar King spoke slowly, measuring his words. “There may come a time, young Tristan, when the urge to use the Orb may become overwhelming. It may mean death for everyone in your company if you don’t use it. If you are indeed the Lost Child �" and I believe you are �" then only you will be able to wield it. Kerland Rodo lived during the Bad Times, when the Spider Queen ruled everything in the Realm but the Eastern Lands, when misery, degredation, starvation and murder were daily facts of life. Even in those circumstances, he never used the Orb. None of his mages used it either, and he had access to some powerful wizards. You’d do well to remember that. Even to end the Bad Times, he didn’t use the Orb. Ask yourself why that is when you feel compelled to use the Orb.”

 “Then are you saying I shouldn’t use the Orb?”

            The Beggar King was silent for a moment. He turned his head to the novice and inclined it in a thoughtful way. “I cannot truly advise you on this matter, Tristan. The artifact is yours to use or not, not mine. All I can say is that the Orb alters reality, sometimes violently but never without consequence. Once you alter reality, it becomes worn, frayed. Eventually, if you alter it enough, it unravels completely. That is the danger of using the Orb.” He smiled sadly. “But that is, of course, conjecture. Nobody can be certain how the Orb affects reality exactly. After all, it hasn’t been used in over a thousand years.”

            Tristan leaned forward. “Aquilan tells me only a powerful mage could use it without being destroyed. Is that what you mean?” The goblin shook his head. “Anyone can use the Orb, Tristan. Even I could wield it, but unless you are powerful, skilled and fortunate, the Orb can consume your essence. At least, that’s what we believe; there is little information about the Orb except that which was relayed by madmen and fanatics.”

The goblin continued, “Use your judgment to guide you, young Tristan. Trust your heart if you trust nothing else. Remember, to everything there is a purpose, and the Gods alone know what that is. Don’t reflect overly much on what that purpose is �" we are not Gods, after all.” Tristan laughed, and the Beggar King smiled. “Although some of those in the League might tell you I believe that I am.”

            He rang a small silver bell on his table. Four strong goblins carrying a palanquin entered from the door the sprite had appeared through earlier. The Beggar King was still smiling gently. “Tristan, I must depart to my desert home so my old joints can rest. I wish you well on your journey, and know that you are in my thoughts.” Tristan rose as the goblins helped the Beggar King onto the palanquin with extraordinary gentleness and reverence.

            Tristan bowed to the King and was turning to exit when the Beggar King held up a hand. “One last thing, Tristan. There is another prophecy regarding the Lost Child, one written by the mad Drow Inkaku. The Guild knows of its existence only. I have a copy of it, perhaps the only one outside of Ur Bathog. If you survive the quest, come to me in the desert. Porrin will tell you how, if he doesn’t take you himself. We’ll discuss it, you and I.” The goblin abruptly coughed, a barking sound that shook his whole body. “We have much to discuss,” he fiercely whispered. Tristan knew his cue. He bowed gracefully and walked out the way he had come in.

            Porrin awaited him in the antechamber. “What did he say to you?” asked the Keth nonchalantly. Tristan laughed at that. “Smooth. How many secrets have you extracted using that technique?” Porrin smiled, eyes dancing gleefully. “Not many,” he admitted breezily, “but you can’t blame a Keth for trying.” Tristan rolled his eyes playfully. “Busybody.” The Keth clapped him on the lower back. “We may just get along, human.”