The Renegades Page 23

  “I don’t want to save the world here either,” Chip waved. “I’ll get back to my Mister Geppetto roleplay. Look! Here comes our thorny friend.”

  A pleased-looking Sloe walked up to us:

  “Cool quest you sent us, thanks! I got a dagger and plus two to Int and Const.”

  He proudly brandished an ugly looking knife of the type typically used in evil sacrifices.

  “You guys finished the entire quest chain?” I asked, astounded.

  “Not really much of a chain, not many links to it…” Sloe shrugged. “Soon as I snuffed out Reed, the mirror whisked me off to a dungeon and offered me a reward. It’s not amazing but for our levels, it’s nothing to sneeze at either. When Reed respawns tomorrow, we’ll do it again.”

  I must say I was a bit disappointed. I had expected a new quest from the Tenth…Something more.

  “Did you manage to decipher the notes?” I asked, not counting on anything.

  “There weren’t any,” the necromancer surprised me. “Nothing like the book you showed me.”

  “Say what? But what did Reed choose?”

  “A music stand.”

  “A music stand?” I echoed. “There wasn’t a music stand there last time.”

  “And there wasn’t a book there this time,” Sloe spread his arms. “Not a one. I think they generate a new set of items every time someone new goes to that location.”

  “Listen,” the pirc perked up, “maybe we should place our notebook on your music stand and then the notes will appear?”

  “Might work. We’ll need to wait for Reed though.”

  “All right. In that case, I’m going to go and grind my profession some more.” Sloe waved goodbye and went whistling on his way.

  “It’s time I got down to business too—I need to farm me a new instrument…”

  The luthier’s shop was among our cartographic clients and thanks to Chip’s incessant chatter, Master Pirus had already promised us discounts. However, whereas for the pirc, musical instruments were little more than a kindling substitute, for me, they were an unavoidable expenditure. The only thing was that the prices weren’t just steep, they were prohibitive. Rare instruments started at 1.5 million gold, while the cheapest stringed instrument cost two thousand. We wouldn’t have close to enough even if we pooled all our resources, so I had to reject the idea of buying one. There are always other ways.

  “Ah! Lorelei!” Master Pirus greeted me enthusiastically. “What brings you here?”

  As a result of doing the quest and my modest level of Charisma, my Attractiveness with Pirus was at 37. This was what I wanted to exploit.

  “I dream of nothing more than acquiring an instrument of your craftsmanship,” I announced, injecting a note of flattery into my voice. “But having never held the instrument in my hands, having never tried it out, how could I possibly make such a weighty decision? Who understands what an instrument means to a bard better than you? Like a sword to a knight, a wand to a mage, a dagger to a rogue—an instrument is the conduit of the bard’s powers. When the music plays, it’s not I but you who creates the magic with your unparalleled masterpieces! Without your genius, my creative path cannot set off on a good start.”

  Listening to my speech, Pirus proudly spread his shoulders and nodded approvingly. Encouraged by this mimed support, I went on:

  “Even the most wonderful ballad shall lose its glamor if the instrument in the musician’s hands is no good—if it does not suit her. Even the most heroic march will fail to inspire the army unless its sound is deep and powerful. It is the talent of masters like you that forms the bedrock of any bard’s fame.”

  You have increased your Charisma. Total: 3.

  You have received another training point. Unallocated training points: 3.

  I suppressed the grin of satisfaction from my face. Any minor detail could deflate the heightened atmosphere I had created.

  “I am happy to hear that my work is highly prized,” the NPC replied, flattered. “The work of a luthier involves many nuances and each one has an effect on the final product. Shaping ordinary lumber with a palette of techniques allows me to create surprising results. Here, have a look!”

  He gingerly removed a domra from a velvet cushion and held it out to me.

  “Listen to its sound, mark the intonation of this beauty.”

  I received the instrument as reverently as I could and ran my fingers across its strings. The sound was stunning—as for the instrument’s properties…

  Rosewood Domra of Joy. Two-handed item. Durability: Unbreakable. Description: Used by Bard for Performance. Item class: Rare. -30% to casting time for Bard Spells when equipped by a bard. +15% to encouragement spells.

  “Now come here and see what I achieved by slightly altering the process of wood drying.”

  The second domra seemed like a twin sister of the one in my hands, but its properties turned out to be different:

  Rosewood Domra of Melancholy. Two-handed item. Durability: Unbreakable. Description: Used by Bard for Performance. Item class: Rare. -30% to casting time for Bard Spells when equipped by a bard. +15% to weakening spells.

  “Yes, this is quite stunning,” I played into Pirus’ excitement.

  I had rather more ordinary materials in mind for my own axe. It looks like different instruments have different effects on spell classes. I’ll need to have a careful look around and choose something that fits. It’d be ideal of course to have an instrument for every occasion, but that would take an unimaginable heap of money.

  “How much would I give for a chance to play each one of these wondrous instruments,” I drawled and shook my head as if a light bulb had gone off in my head. “Master—I can help you with your business!”

  “Yes?” Pirus asked surprised. “Have you thought of something else to add to your map?”

  “No, Master. As long as these amazing instruments remain on their rack, their myriad virtues are lost on the world. However, if a capable bard plays them, everyone who hears him will learn of your shop. Moreover, the bard is sure to tell his friends and acquaintances—among whom there will be some who will want to purchase an instrument of their own.”

  The weakest part of the plan was that Pirus’ store was the only place you could by an instrument on the Tree.

  “It’s not a bad idea,” Pirus muttered doubtfully, “I could even trust you, Lorelei, with one of my creations. But what will I owe you?”

  This was the strong part of my plan.

  “The opportunity to use your masterpieces in my work will be the greatest honor, Master Luthier,” I assured him boisterously.

  Who’d say no to such a deal?

  “It’s decided then! Come by any time my store is open and choose any instrument you like. Just make sure to stay close to the store when you have it.”

  “I wouldn’t think of wandering away,” I reassured Pirus.

  You may play any instrument you like inside the store of Luthier Prius. Attention! If you leave the area beside the store with an instrument that doesn’t belong to you, its entire price shall be withdrawn from your account.

  “If I may, Master Luthier, I’d like to begin right away.”

  Receiving permission, I selected one of the rare lutes—one that would increase my Attractiveness if I played it well—sat down at the entrance to the shop and began to play. The secret trick in my plan was that I played not for prospective instrument buyers, but for Pirus himself. Four points of Fame would result in +1 Attractiveness with Pirus, and by praising his instrument, I raised that stat even higher. Since the shop was on the Market Branch, listeners should show up and my Fame will grow little by little as a result. And in several days, if I don’t screw it up, I’ll be able to raise my Attractiveness with the luthier, raise several other stats, find the instrument I want and come up with a way to acquire it while I’m at it. Under the incessant influence of my music, Pirus may issue me a fitting quest or tell me something interesting. Who better to know about bards than the maker
of their weapons?

  I didn’t hurry to ask him questions, focusing instead on the advertisement of his goods I had promised him. If you give a client time to ‘ripen,’ the payoff will be much larger. Accordingly, I didn’t strike up any new conversations that evening and, having returned the instrument, said goodbye to Pirus and exited the game.

  My inbox had a new order from my longtime client, who this time around wished to trounce another woman who had interfered in her romantic relationships. Relishing the chance to work on something entirely different, I whipped up an excoriating and scorching tirade that was sure to reduce its target to tears. I wouldn’t be going without a bite to eat thanks to this hyper-romantic lady. And even if the bite will be scant, it won’t be unwelcome.

  I sent off the completed order and collapsed in my bed. Tomorrow was band practice.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The guys and I spent band practice trying out some of the new songs and catching up on our exploits in Barliona.

  “Beast, have you reached Level 5 yet?” Straus ribbed the bassist.

  Edilberto grimaced and shook his head.

  “So what are you doing?” My astonishment knew no bounds. “Even I’m at seven already—and leveling up among the biota isn’t exactly easy.”

  “He’s our very own serial killer,” Straus guffawed. “Check it out—soon as he rolled his character, he attacked another player. So the guards threw him in the slammer.”

  “The hell did you decide to PK for?”

  “I didn’t decide a goddamn thing!” grunted Edilberto unhappily. “While I was getting my bearings, this dimwit shows up and starts cussing at me and calling me a newb. Well so I let him have it.”

  Everyone burst out laughing, while Beast asked with puzzlement:

  “What was I supposed to do? He was talking shit! Am I supposed to give him a hug?”

  “What happened next?” Hal asked through his laughter.

  “What do you think?” Straus gibed as Edilberto gave him an unhappy look. “He respawned and tried again. Did some basic quests, gained a couple levels and then ran smack-dab into the same troll. One thing led to another…The troll started trolling him again and good old Beast let him have it again.”

  Overhead, the garage’s only light bulb swayed from our laughter.

  “Don’t stop!” Charsky begged, once he’d regained enough composure to say something.

  “So he killed the troll—and his friends. Our Beast is a warrior now. He’s got a zweihänder and all. I sent him some gear when he started. But it was supposed to help him! Instead, he decided that the trolls must die and became a murderer. He didn’t bother going back to his town and began wandering the countryside. Tormented by his guilty conscience, Edilberto sentenced himself to penal service in the mines…”

  “You can take your guilty conscience and shove it,” Beast took offense at this retelling of his story. “Outlaws can’t earn XP and there’s nothing else to do. So I went to work in the mines.”

  “The hell for?” I managed with difficulty, restraining another fit of laughter.

  “I want to become a blacksmith. I always dreamed about forging iron back when I was a kid.”

  “Your dreams are becoming reality then!” Charsky congratulated him. “You’re already hammering iron, albeit in a different form!”

  “The hell with you guys,” the odd bassist said sadly, while Straus went on:

  “That’s not all. Briefly put, Beast waved his pickaxe around, earned some ore, leveled up his strength and when his outlaw status expired, returned to the town. At the blacksmith’s some dude told him he sucked at forging or something, so Bang! Bang! Beast’s iron hammer came down upon his head.”

  “He killed him?” Hal managed through the tears in his eyes.

  “He would have, except the turkey was over level fifty,” Beast muttered unhappily.

  “Anyway, the turkey sent Beast to respawn,” Straus continued his tale of his friend’s incarcerations. “And then sent him back after he’d returned. And as if this wasn’t enough, a red orc NPC walked up to him and started making fun of him. Obviously Edilberto won’t stand for something like that and tried to take out the NPC. That didn’t work, but the NPC declared that Beast has a mighty, proud and savage spirit, and told him that he’d be happy to take him on as a student. As a result, Beast landed himself into the rare specialization of berserker.”

  “Oh! A noble line of work!”

  “You the man, Beast!”

  “Way to kill ‘em, Beast!”

  The others couldn’t match such adventures. Hal had chosen the way of the frock and became a priest of Vlast, tending and ministering to the various rites of this deity. And since being drunk wasn’t a feature of Barliona, sober Hal had already reached Level 27. Charsky had rolled a bard like me and was already traveling around with some necromancers, on his way to becoming a Singer of Death. This was the draft title of the song he played for us. And we spent the next hour or two working on its various parts, brainstorming lyrics, editing them, jamming, arguing and jamming some more.

  * * *

  Hanging out with my buddies, I barely noticed the time fly by and I ended up reentering the game fairly late. Chip and Reed were already waiting for me, lazing around the drinking fountain. As I understood, these fountains were like free cafeterias for the biota. They were sprinkled generously around the Tree. Reed was playing a quiet melody, while the pirc lay beside him, ignoring the passersby that periodically tripped over his feet.

  “Ah here comes our party’s decoration. Lori, we did some talking here and decided to try and assemble a unified party. Since we’re at the same stage of the quest, maybe one sacrifice will suffice to open the portal,” Chip announced as soon as he laid eyes on me.

  “Hello,” Reed greeted me, staring at the toes of his shoes. “Do you guys mind if I join you?”

  “I’m all for it!” I assured my colleague. “Will you let me borrow your music stand for a moment? I want to see whether I’ll be able to read my book on it.”

  “Here you go,” Reed replied, pulling a hefty music stand from his modest bag. It looked a bit like a magic trick—only instead of a rabbit the magician had pulled a giraffe out of his bag.

  I quickly placed Cypro’s notes on the music stand and stared greedily at its pages. No changes.

  “Dang nab it,” sighed Chip. “I was hoping we’d guessed right that time.”

  “Unfortunately not,” I sighed in turn, returning the difficult little journal to my inventory. “All right, let’s form a party and finish up with the quest chain. Ready?”

  “I’m always ready!” Chip saluted and yawned deeply. “It’s sleepy-time.”

  “I’m ready too,” Reed added, replacing his music stand trophy in his bag.

  “I have brought the toll!”

  Our teleportation was instantaneous. A second ago we were standing beneath Barliona’s bright sun and already the stilted cold was creeping through our clothes, under our skin, to our very hearts.

  “Christ, it is freezing in here,” Chip shuddered. “Did they send us to the local Antarctica or something?”

  “Do you wish to continue your journey?” The voice in the mirror sent chills down my spine.

  “Y-yes.” My teeth were chattering as if I’d dived into an ice hole. “But I have a question first. Do you know how to read this book?”

  The creature in the mirror made a strange, terrifying sound and I couldn’t help but start when I realized that this sound was supposed to be laughter.

  “These writings are open only to the dead. And since we’re speaking about the dead, which life shall you gift me? Whom shall you sacrifice to continue your journey?”

  “I’m always ready to submit my belly to the sacrificial altar for the good of the proletariat!” Chip announced dramatically and sneezed.

  I looked at the pirc and then at Reed who had wrapped himself in his cape—then I looked back at the mirror. Why had the Tenth decided to deal with such a
revolting creature? What was the lesson here? What does the vocation of a bard have in common with my willingness to sacrifice my companions and tread over their corpses on my ‘journey?’ I guess I’ll never know…

  “I have decided that I do not wish to continue this journey,” I sighed and the words, frozen, fell at my feet. “Another dead end is cheaper than the price you ask. Chip, how about we smash this evil glass?”

  “With pleasure!” the pirc smirked maliciously and without waiting stuck his halberd into the center of the mirror. The sound of shattered glass failed to smother the scream of wrath emanating from the empty frame.

  Selection made.

  You have refused to sacrifice your companions for the sake of personal gain thereby proving that friendship and faithfulness is no empty noise for you. The way lies open.

  Quest updated: Road to Nowhere (Two trials completed).

  A shimmering portal opened in the center of the room and I could feel the heat radiating from it.

  “Curious,” Reed muttered and stepped into the portal without further ado.

  “Haven’t you heard the proverb about the cat and its curiosity?” The pirc rejoined. “I’d rather not reaffirm it with my personal example.”

  Nonetheless, he stepped in right after Reed without further vacillation.

  Contrary to my reservations, the other side of the portal did not contain the room of rewards Sloe had described. There wasn’t a room there at all in fact. We stood in the middle of a mountain canyon. The vertical slopes on either side and the impassable mass of rubble behind us indicated that there was only one direction to go.

  “Where are we?” Reed asked what everyone was wondering.

  “Somewhere in Barliona,” I announced after checking my map. This time around, our location lay somewhere north of the Hidden Forest, amid unexplored territory.

  “Somewhere close to the rear end of this world,” the pirc explained further. “You could say we’re in the ante-anus.”