A Second Chance Page 12

  “We have three attempts left. Let me outline the situation so there are no questions. The court has forbidden me to give out any personal information which could be used to identify me in reality. This is monitored by a separate Imitator, and all I have to do is open my mouth, point, hint, or drop a clue, and it blocks the attempt and issues a warning. Four warnings and I get sent to the mines. Pay no attention to my appearance. It’s changed and is nothing like the real me. Any questions?”

  “No,” I replied. I wanted to think everything through first. Sent? Not returned, but sent? I recalled the widely and aggressively advertised story of the Mahan. The shaman began his journey in the ore mines, and by the time he was freed he was at level twenty. Eredani didn’t just arrive in the wide world at level one — he passed through the tiefling birth scene alongside me. And he did it like a Free player, which is why I thought he was a vagrant.

  “Good. We’re clear on that then,” he said. “Now I want to emphasize that I’m not happy about being a burden. On the contrary, I’m a very useful source of information about the game. And I have a lot, even if it is about the old Barliona. But the central points will hardly have changed. The key thing is still the same: kill or be killed, buy or be bought.”

  “All of a sudden you’re the very epitome of candor,” I noted. “What happened?”

  “I need help. I can’t cope with the training camp on my own. At first I thought you were from the Corporation, sent to check up on me, which is why I scrutinized you, studied you. After you stood up for me, I realized you were a newbie and didn’t know a thing about me. The voice of Barliona cannot prevaricate. Who are you? What do you need from the game? What conditions do you have to fulfil?”

  “Too many personal questions. And free ones at that.”

  “Agreement? I’ll show you my worth. You’ll definitely benefit from collaborating with me.”

  “Agreement,” I nodded. “I’ll answer one question, and we’ll see what you can offer me.”

  “Why did you come to Barliona?” The tiefling had contrived to ask a question, the answer to which involved a lot of information. Following his example I began to edit the text of the contract, adding information bit by bit and waiting for a green tick. Fussy Barliona was only satisfied when I wrote about my employer and my plans to create a clan. And I had to mention both points, as only one wouldn’t have counted as fulfilling my duties. Did they have lie detectors or something?

  “That… changes… everything… drastically,” said Eredani. “Very drastically. Take this, it’ll come in handy.”

  I read the new information sceptically. It was the structure of a clan, with contract templates, a description of the main functions of each role, and requirements for creating your own clan. There was an addendum to the final point: if you made an initial equity capital investment in the clan of thirty or forty thousand gold, the NPC-registrar would take it as a serious intention and allow you to choose the location of your clan castle. Somehow or other I could have found or cobbled together each of the points by myself, but the addendum came most opportunely. There was no information about it in open source.

  “That’s a fraction of what I know about clans and establishing, organizing, and managing them.” Eredani continued to big himself up. “Because of my status, I can’t create a clan on my own, or be a treasurer or deputy, but I can be an adviser. However, if one of your tasks is to create your own team, I’d like to be part of it. I can be of use to you.”

  “Isn’t it a bit soon to be making decisions like that? You know nothing about me and my financial situation, yet you’re already prepared to advise.”

  “You were discarded as superfluous, but you still managed to find work in these difficult times. You even agreed to an internship. That speaks of tenacity and character. That’s number one. You bought a professional pod. As a new employee you couldn’t take out a loan, so you used your own means. You’re a good project manager, so you know how to manage a budget. I’m willing to bet you spent no more than ten percent of your resources on the pod.” Eredani cocked his head in expectation of my answer. I did the math and nodded. “You see? That’s number two. Number three, you decided to create a clan. That means you don’t just have the resources, financial and human, but you also have a plan. You can’t be a good project manager if you’re an opportunist. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. Add to that my knowledge and experience, and you have yourself an interesting enterprise. Is that sufficient to make a decision?”

  “Absolutely. Why aren’t you in the ore mines?”

  “I made a plea bargain, so they let me out into the wide world. With specific restrictions and constant control, but the wide world all the same.”

  “Okay, so you have experience. But what do you want?”

  “Peace and quiet,” said Eredani seriously. “There are many like Braksed, and I need protection. I want to finish the training course, wringing as much out of the locals as I can. When we set up the clan, I want my share and a say in making clan decisions. Nothing too excessive, but I don’t want to take a back seat either.”

  He’d called the NPCs “locals.” I’d heard that term before, but nobody used it anymore. It’s what players had called NPCs at the dawn of Barliona, fifteen or sixteen years ago.

  “And in return you just share information, yes?”

  “Not only information.” Eredani chose his words carefully, not wanting to receive another warning. “I know a lot about how to establish relations with the locals, and how to get to the Emperor. In order to indemnify everyone, you and I sign a cooperation agreement. I’ll prepare the text.”

  “I need to think about it,” I said. It wasn’t good to make hasty decisions. “I suggest taking a break from plans and concentrating on our current problems. We’ve got twenty-four hours to complete the newbies’ course. We’ll set up a group, work together, go to see Hermit, and then draw up the contract. That way we’ll see if we make a good team.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less,” agreed Eredani. “Send me a group and organize a chat. Some things it’s better to type and not say out loud. And another thing. A non-disclosure agreement. Whatever we learn from each other stays between us. We can’t give or sell information to third parties. It’s not a fact that we’ll stay together after completing the camp. We need a safety net.”

  The group interface didn’t add any new information about Eredani. A level-one player with the standard hundred Health and Energy points.

  “And the last thing. Before we go to the course, we need to open our main specialities. Nothing unique or too specific, but they must increase quickly and without too much effort on our part. I would advise Trade or Cartography. Minimum effort, maximum benefit.”

  “I get Cartography, but Trade as a main a speciality? Why?”

  “Trade is actually very important for us, but it’s no good to me. Traders are prejudiced against prisoners. As a basic speciality, Trade provides a discount of up to fifty percent, and if it’s your main speciality, traders might offer you under-the-counter goods, stuff you can’t usually get hold of. I can’t remember the exact probability coefficient, we’ll have to wait and see afterwards. The thing you won’t find in official sources is that the main speciality of the chief extends to the entire clan, which is an advantage.”

  “Does Trade increase only with NPCs?” I asked.

  “No, with players too. It’s increased by any activity which involves exchanging something for money. Auction, direct buying and selling, information, even transferring a large sum to another player.”

  “What about management specializations? As the head of the clan, wouldn’t it be better for me to have those?”

  “It is true lots of clan chiefs take them, only for some reason no one thinks about how to increase them. Don’t forget about the restriction — basic specialities can only be twelve points higher than your main speciality. Let’s say you take Manager. Specializing in managing groups of over one hundred people. Whe
re are you going to find so many people now? And even if you find them, how are you going to level them up? Manage them all personally? I thought you weren’t planning to live in Barliona. Brody, you understand perfectly well you can’t read too much into a name. Everything must be to the maximum. Leveling up is an advantage to the player and to his clan.”

  “Okay, you’ve convinced me, I’ll take Trade. What are you going to take?”

  “Cartography. For three reasons. Firstly, maps are like gold dust. Secondly, we can make scrolls. And thirdly, for every ten Cartography levels, Intellect increases by a point. So you take Cartography. And Skinning too, that’s extra Agility. Indispensable to tieflings.”

  “Maybe it’s worth taking something else for Stamina then? They’re going to reduce it every ten levels.”

  “Mining, but it’s pretty dreary work. Smacking ore with a pick sucks. I hope I won’t have to bother.”

  “We’ll see. I have a pick.” I showed Eredani my weapon. He toyed with it a while before announcing:

  “Change of plan. I’m taking Mining. And yes, you’ll have to give me the pick.”

  “I’ll sell it to you if I don’t need it,” I corrected him. He’d started bossing me around.

  With a detailed shopping list, we set off to see Dheire, the camp’s specialities instructor. Eredani had no money, so we drew up another contract to the effect that I would pay all his expenses, and as soon as he’d earned enough money, the game would settle our accounts for us.

  “Greetings to the young tieflings!” Dheire the gnome welcomed us. He was sitting in the middle of his workshop doing what you would expect of a specialities trainer in the nursery — meditating to relieve the boredom. Newbie-level demon hunters would think about anything but developing their specialities.

  In his shoebox of a room my attention was drawn toward an abundance of food packets: duck, pork, chicken, ravioli, and noodles, as well as dozens of tubs of various strange combinations of dishes. I was lost for a few moments, trying to work out what had caught my eye, but I snapped out of it upon receiving a not insubstantial prod from Eredani. According to our provisional arrangement, my partner prompted me in the chat, but it was I who had to speak to the NPC. A peculiarity of game chats was that you had to write literally in them — using a virtual keyboard. No “power of thought” or “freedom of the mind,” just simple mechanics.

  “And greetings to you, master Dheire.” I obediently read out the first message from Eredani.

  “What crooked horns you have. You won’t find a wife with those horns. And what an ugly tail!” Dheire shook his head in sympathy, and I got it — He was a Chinaman!

  “Have you… already… eaten?” I asked a completely different question to the one in the chat. Eredani coughed subtly behind my back, for which I whacked his leg with my tail as if to say, “I can cope on my own.”

  “Oh yes, thank you, I dined very heartily,” said Dheire, nodding his bobblehead.

  “And what did the master eat?” I was now sure.

  Eredani: I don’t get it. What’s with the ad-libbing?

  I tried to type an explanation, but gave up. Typing wasn’t one of my strong points.

  Eredani: Did I miss something while I was making myself at home? Is this some new way of conducting negotiations? Are you going to ask him about how often he passes stool?

  I was impressed with my partner’s typing speed, but wisely I didn’t reply; I just continued to grin at the master.

  “I had ravioli, noodles, and a little beer.” A smile broke out on Dheire’s face, and his Agreeability to me increased a little. “What brings you two cloven hooves to me at this late hour? Too sick to train? Haven’t eaten?”

  Eredani had got worked up for nothing. The directness and wealth of food would give any player a hint at the master’s citizenship of the Celestial Empire. Some mistook the frankness of the Chinese for discourtesy, but not me. When he mentioned my horns and wife, I’d immediately felt a warmth in my soul, as if I’d met an old friend. How nervous I’d been until I figured out how to make the egg-noodle lovers work.

  “The time to study is upon us,” I explained. “In order to dine well, we must first study well.”

  “Study is the most important thing in the life of any creature,” said Dheire. “Directly after food. What would you like to eat, um, I mean what would you like to study?”

  “I have plenty of money and I would like to study Cookery.” This one utterance triggered two different responses: delight in Dheire, and surprise in Eredani. Another hint at my frivolity appeared in the chat, which wasn’t something we had discussed in the barrack.

  “How pleased I am that you came to see me!” Dheire had heard the phrase “plenty of money” and bloomed. “Are you going to make that most important of specialities your main one?”

  “To begin with we shall see what we can learn. Fried rat is easier to buy than to cook oneself.”

  “How dare you say that?!” he said, outraged. “Correctly prepared rat meat is impossible to buy, and can only be cooked by oneself. It is a shame that we have a problem with rats in these parts.”

  “How many pieces of meat do we need, and which particular kind of rat?” I asked, reading Eredani’s first relevant question.

  “Twenty should do.” Dheire brightened up again. “Any meat, so long as it’s rat.”

  Task received: Rat meat supplier

  Description: A rare task. Dheire — mentor of the demon-hunter training camp –asks you to bring him 20 pieces of any meat described as “rat”.

  Reward:

  Experience: +5

  Reputation with Light of Barliona faction: +1

  “So, teach us Cookery, and we’ll go looking for rats.” I vocalized Eredani’s hint a second time, and We leave now!!! left me in no doubt he’d sniffed out something interesting.

  “Why not?” Dheire rubbed his hands in anticipation of a good deal. “Ten gold from each tiefling, and the speciality is yours. Chef’s kits — that’s another ten each, and of course twenty recipes at five gold each. Two hundred and twenty gold, and you’re both on the way to becoming top Barliona chefs. I must warn you, no haggling! This isn’t a market, and prices are fixed from upstairs.”

  “Thank you, we’ll think about it.” Eredani literally dragged me out of the workshop. “It was nice to meet you.”

  “Hey…” Dheire wilted when he realized no purchase was going to be made just then and he wouldn’t get any money. “You come here, you disturb me, and you don’t buy anything? How can I do business with folks like that?”

  My recently raised Agreeability to the gnome dropped back down to the standard twenty.

  “Brody, let’s agree on something: if I make a suggestion, you do it straight away and without winging it.” Eredani laid into me the second we stepped out of the administration building. “Even if you think I’m wrong, do as I say. I have more experience, so don’t ruin the game. Don’t make life difficult for me until I screw up at least once, okay?”

  “Okay,” I consented. “What happened?”

  “This is a tricky task. It depends on financial input.” Eredani quickly calmed down. “The key phrase was ‘any meat’. The higher the quality of the meat we give Dheire, the better the result. The best meat comes from level-two-hundred rats on the third level of the drains in Anhurs, the capital of Malabar. One piece costs twenty gold or more. Plus the auction’s cut, that’s ten percent of the deal price. If you’re willing to spend nearly five hundred gold, let’s go for it.”

  “Five hundred for a task?” I had trouble containing my sarcasm. “Okay, let’s discuss the viability of that. What do we stand to gain from this task?”

  “Recipes, a discount, Agreeability, a rare commodity.” Eredani listed the benefits. “Anything that’ll help us here and now.”

  “My thoughts precisely. Whatever we get will be useful for newbies. Who can we sell this stuff to, in order to recover our investment? That’s half an average month’s wages. If we’re
going to spend money, we need to know we’ll definitely get it back. Preferably twice over.”

  “Okay, let’s work it out,” Eredani chuckled. “The cost of any rare item coming from demon hunters has a coefficient of ten, possibly even more. Shukir is evidence of that, since the Phoenixes are prepared to pay thousands for any information that will help them become even stronger. Whatever Dheire offers us, we can sell it here, to Braksed or Kurtune. They’ve got money. If we can’t earn anything here, we’ll get to the wide world and sell to the Phoenixes or the Legends of Barliona. We’ll definitely make our gold back, and we’ll be in possession of something rare.”

  Eredani’s arguments were hard to dispute, but my entire being objected to the thought of paying out five hundred gold without a clear idea of how to get it back. I hated working as a wingman.

  “Here’s the number of a human who works at the auction. If you decide to risk the cash, call him. Say you found him in the Internet. He puts good money into advertizing. If you decide against it, call him anyway. Ask him to buy you a few gold’s worth of simple rat meat and e-mail it to you. We need to close the task.”