A Song of Shadow Page 37

  And he did. He read the contract, nodded, agreeing with the condition of not intentionally causing me direct and indirect harm, and we signed the contract. With a clear conscience, I conveyed to him the coordinates of the renegades’ HQ, which after today’s scenario, would be completely abandoned. Had Geranika won, the renegades would have once again returned to their camp and become a constantly respawning source of loot and experience for the players. But Geranika had been defeated and the dungeon was empty, a useless network of caves.

  Oto and I parted almost on friendly terms. Fortunately, he did not start openly gloating and trying to cast the stupidity of what I had done in my face. I’m afraid my acting talents might not have been enough to affect an adequate response. It was only once he’d moved some distance away from me that he cheerfully said to one of his hidden friends: “Suckers ain’t mammoths—suckers don’t go extinct.”

  “Amen,” I thought, and pretended that I hadn’t heard anything.

  I did not feel remorse. Oto wasn’t my friend by any stretch of the imagination and he had effectively screwed me in this deal, paying at least 800K less than what the dungeon was actually worth. Perhaps more. Were I to arrange an auction between the Day of Wrath and the Dark Legion, the amount could grow significantly. But I was not suicidal. To punish the insolence and greed of one player by exacting a small amount was one thing. To defraud a powerful guild for a good amount of money is another. Strictly speaking, Oto never told me that he was in the Dark Legion. In fact I still couldn’t be sure that this was the case. So this little prank is exclusively between me and one over-confident rogue.

  I did not dare continue to collect the blighted earth. A deal is a deal, but when has a piece of paper ever stopped an irate, inventive person? And it wasn’t like his friends, whom I’d sent to spawn with Bogart’s help, had promise me my safety.

  Out of harm’s way, I rejoined the gathering of players.

  Neither party hurried to leave the battlefield. The players were picking up loot, reviving the last of their fallen comrades and sharing their impressions of the scenario.

  “Ah! Lorelei!” exclaimed the leader of the Dark Legion, who had been talking with Dirk, and waved me over with a friendly gesture.

  Otolaryngologist was already back too. He was spinning around nearby, glowing. Upon seeing me, his smile grew so wide that its corners risked circumnavigating his skull. Chip and Bogart were speaking quietly off to the side, both unusually serious and quiet. Hearing my name, they stopped and looked at Evolett.

  “I have a lot of questions regarding the scenario that just ended,” the leader of the Dark Legion said when I approached. “But first, I want to invite you to join our guild. You have potential.”

  “The Day of Wrath will also be glad to see you in our guild,” said Dirk, glancing at Evolett with irritation. “Especially since you’ve already managed to meet some members of our guild.”

  Urgh. What is everyone on my case for suddenly? Glancing at Bogart, who was scowling for some reason, I shook my head.

  “Thank you, of course, but I’d like to play this character without joining a guild yet. Imagine if I created trouble for your guild by switching to Shadow? It’s more appropriate to play solo in my case. I can get myself into whatever trouble I feel like without having to worry about the consequences. No responsibilities, no mandatory online time, no enemy guilds that could spoil my game. The organizations you guys are running aren’t a game for me. And I prefer to work in another area.”

  “And what would that be, if it’s no secret?” inquired Dirk.

  “Music. Now, if you’re planning a party or some corporate, err, guild event or something like that—you should call me. The guys and I will make it a real smash.”

  Evolett grunted thoughtfully, rubbed his chin and nodded:

  “I have always valued the ability to prioritize. And now, my esteemed colleague Dirk and I would like to hear your detailed account of everything related to this scenario.”

  I had no idea where to begin. In the end, too many minor and seemingly insignificant episodes had merged into a single story. Dirk interpreted my silence in his own way:

  “Name the price.”

  I sighed involuntarily. I still have to get used to the fact that in Barliona everything had a price.

  “I started playing only recently and do not particularly understand the intricacies. Let’s do it an easier way: I will tell you everything that happened to me, and you can decide how much that info costs on your own. You know better what can be useful to a player of my level who has borked her reputation with all the empires to hatred status.”

  The guild leaders nodded simultaneously and I began my story with my first vision of the Schism. At the mention of the dungeon beneath the renegades’ camp, Dirk squinted at Evolett, but he only waved his hand, urging me to go on.

  “It seems to me that the scenario did not end exactly the way the developers planned,” said the leader of the Dark Legion when I had finished. “Stop staring at me, Dirk. My people are checking the dungeon right now and judging by the messages in the guild chat, it is completely empty. You saw all the bosses with your own eyes and none of them, obviously, will be going back there.”

  Evolett smiled cheerfully in reply to Dirk’s unvoiced question:

  “Less than an hour ago, this nice lady sold the coordinates of an empty dungeon to a dimwitted player from my guild.”

  Hearing this, Dirk grunted while Qupip and Lipo, who were standing nearby, burst out in loud, merry laughter, making fun of the loser.

  “Since you, Lorelei, did not grow greedy and try to earn millions from a dummy, I don’t have any complaints about this little deception,” said Evolett to my relief. “Wiegraf was trying to scam you for several million and this will be a good lesson for him.”

  This was a great relief. If the guild leadership is not offended, then everything is in order. Meanwhile, the name Wiegraf, which obviously belonged to Oto’s main character, is worth remembering. Judging by the way Pasha and Sasha exchanged glances, it was not just me who came to this conclusion.

  “So as I understand it, you only have the Free Lands available to you?” asked Dirk. “That place isn’t too friendly for players of your level. If you want, we will give you access to the guild training ground to level you up faster. If you grow a bit, you’ll have better chances of surviving in difficult conditions.”

  “And what will I owe in exchange for this service?” I asked, remembering that everything in Barliona came with a price tag.

  “Nothing,” Dirk shrugged. “I promised to thank you for the story. The next time you come across an interesting quest, feel free to invite my players. It seems to me that in the coming months bards will often encounter non-standard quests.”

  “We, too, would be grateful for an invitation to participate in the scenarios you encounter,” Evolett did not lag behind his rival. “And since we are talking about expressing gratitude, do you have any idea about a suitable reward for your story?”

  I paused to think. A guild’s assistance in leveling up sounded pretty good. I had read a couple accounts of the Free Lands and had understood one simple thing: There was no point going there until I hit Level 100. But decent gear would also be useful, since auctions and most of the traders were now off limits to me. As for the rest...I didn’t know enough about the game in order to immediately understand what exactly I needed. Alchemical ingredients? I haven’t even decided yet, whether I wanted to grind that. As far as cartography went, I already had everything I needed. Although...

  “Could you give me some uncommon or even rare maps? Just any scrap you have lying around. They could be for locations that are completely useless.”

  The guild leaders looked at each other in puzzlement.

  “And why do you need maps and not even any specific ones?”

  “I have this cartography quest. Chip and I are charting a map for our cartography instructor and he promised me some kind of bonus if we brought him
some rare maps.”

  “Minions of Shadow may not enter the Tree,” Dirk reminded me.

  “Well, if I can’t go, I’ll send Chip to do it. Maybe we’ll get some cool gear out of it.”

  “Why not?” said Evolett after a little thought. “Hang on, I’ll send you a contract.”

  A few minutes later, a few dozen maps came crashing down on Chip from Evolett and another dozen or so from Dirk. The attached contracts prohibited me from giving or selling these maps to anyone other than the cartography instructor.

  “I still can’t get used to calling these tapestries maps,” Chip muttered as he approached me, examining the presents. “And I can already sense with the tip of my tail who will have to verify all these tapestries...”

  “If you happen to be in the Celestial Empire or in Astrum, be sure to verify them,” Dirk grunted.

  “Big deal,” Chip shrugged, carefully furling the scrolls and placing them in a tube hanging from his shoulder. “A hundred leagues is not too out of the way for us. We’ll take a detour to the Celestial Empire, if necessary.”

  “Yeah, we’ll pacify the Boxer Rebellion while we’re at it,” Bogart nodded. “Or help out the Yellow Turbans. Pasha, let’s grab our cactus and go already. The hell are we hanging around here for—I have a night flight and we aren’t ready yet.”

  “I am going to ask for a ride to the renegades’ camp and then I’ll exit too. It’ll take me too long to get there on my own. By the way, Pasha!” I fished out Roach’s bridle from my bag. “Can you fix my horse for me, what do you say?”

  “No problem,” the pirq nodded, taking the item. “And now run along so we can wrap things up out in beerspace!”

  Epilogue

  I joined Snegov’s going away party exactly in time for Wallace’s arrival. More precisely, I arrived at the very moment when Sasha needed a hand and he shamelessly tasked me with setting the table.

  “I’m an officer now,” he explained self-importantly, loading me with platters of snacks. “So I get to order my subordinates around. Onward, recruit!”

  “Now I understand why your subordinates prefer to hide in the jungle,” remarked Wallace, taking bottles from the refrigerator. “Come on, you newly-minted noble you. Finish your cookery so we can eat already.”

  “Yah, five minutes,” Sasha stuck his nose in the oven, inspected the state of the chicken and potatoes and concluded with satisfaction: “She looks good boys.”

  At the table, the conversation naturally turned to the game. Sasha’s departure was not mentioned at all as if doing so was some kind of taboo, and so we began discussing the day’s main event—the battle with Geranika. To be fair, I did most of the talking as Sasha had missed the finale and Pasha arrived only at the denouement. As a result, their participation in my retelling of the epic battle was limited mainly to incidental comments.

  “There’s just one thing I don’t understand,” I brought up the one detail that wouldn’t stop nagging me. “Why Geranika wanted to kill the ambassadors is understandable. Spoil relations between the neighbors, destroy the alliance, enrage two emperors at once...The ambassador is their mutual relative, after all. But why was Geranika so eager to kill the First? It makes no sense. If she dies, all that happens is an eclipse and then the Tree simply spawns a new leader. It makes no difference to Geranika whatsoever. Every creature of the Tree is devoted to Sylvyn and will never have anything to do with Shadow.”

  “What about seizing the opportunity presented by the ensuing power vacuum to strike the Tree when its defenders had no one to command them?” Wallace suggested with a shrug.

  “But there already wasn’t anyone to command them,” I disagreed. “Their top commander, the Second, went over to the side of Geranika. As far as I understand, one of the pirq elders, who was also there, assumed his duties. And the new First would appear almost immediately and on the Tree in safety. If his true aim was to decapitate the biota and paralyze the Council, it would make more sense to capture the First alive. But, again, minions of Shadow cannot approach the Tree. Neither Geranika nor his army would be able to attack it physically.”

  “Are you really sure that there even should be a point in all this?” Sasha asked with genuine surprise. “When was the last time you saw a holo-flick? Logic has long been sacrificed for the sake of entertainment and tragedy. And Barliona is pure entertainment. To kill the leader is a standard cliché. The solemn state funeral that follows, the tragedy of it all, is supposed to wring tears from the players.”

  “Well, yes,” I had to agree with this assumption. “That would also explain why the bodies didn’t vanish at that location, like they do everywhere else in the game. For the sake of a beautiful solemn funeral. It seems like those who came out of the Tree are returning to the Tree again. Symbolism, the cycle of life...”

  “Hang on,” Wallace intervened. “A funeral? That is, they’re collected in one place and then a farewell ceremony is held? Is that right?”

  “Something like that,” I nodded, putting food on the plate. “Why?”

  “Eh no reason...” He began to thoughtfully chew his lip. “I remembered something...But from actual history...I doubt it applies here. Snegov, do you remember how in Kouilou once...”

  “Let’s not remember that at the table,” said Sasha. “Found something to remember, damn it. Pour the next round, you’re punished.”

  “What if we remember it but without details?” I asked. “Short and to the point. What’s it have to do with the game?”

  Wallace froze with the bottle in his hand and looked inquiringly at Sasha.

  “All right, come on, get on with it, now that you’ve brought it up.” Sasha granted his permission with a wave of his hand. “Our Lady of the Cactus is already all ears.”

  Wallace sniffled guiltily and began:

  “You see, there is this old and very vile tactic of booby-trapping corpses. We came across it in Idiofa for the first time: After a wave of ethnic cleansing, the rebels there would booby-trap the dead civilians. Typically, they’d rig an unpinned grenade under a corpse or else make an incision and...”

  Here, Wallace encountered Snegov’s cold glare and trailed off mid-sentence.

  “Nah. That’s not an option in the game,” I shook my head. “The NPCs sent all of their dead through the portal to be buried on the Tree...”

  I did not finish my thought. Something clicked in my brain and all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

  “I have to go do something for a couple of minutes!” I said, jumping up from the table and dashing to the capsule.

  “It’s that urgent?” I heard Sasha call after me. “Okay, okay, flutter away Batman, save the world...”

  Activating short-term immersion mode, I climbed into the cocoon right in my clothes. As soon as the system connected me to Barliona, I whipped out Sloe’s amulet from my inventory and made a call. After a few painful seconds, he answered in a quiet whisper:

  “I’m at the farewell ceremony. Call me later...”

  “STOP!” I yelled as loud as the Guardian. “The body of the Sixth contains Geranika’s dagger. When the body is submerged into the Tree, the dagger will blight it! It will blight the Tree!”

  “Are you sure?” Sloe asked quietly, after a pause.

  “Dead certain! Imagine what will happen if I’m right!”

  “Should I give the amulet to someone on the Council? If you are right—the reward should be insane.”

  I thought for a couple of seconds. The reward will be princely but they’ll hold on to me for a while to. And Sasha will leave for a hot spot in a few hours. What kind of person would I be if I spent those hours in VR?

  “It’s all you,” I told Sloe. “I have more important business in meatspace.”

  “I’ll call you back.”

  “I’m exiting. If anything, call me on my visor irl.”

  Ignoring the astonished looks of the renegades around me, I exited the game.

  “And? Has the world been saved then?” Pasha
asked me, sitting at the table in regal isolation.

  I could hear Wallace’s voice in the bathroom and figured that the rest of the duet was discussing the wine list, examining the bottles that were being chilled in the ice bath.

  “It seems so,” I replied uncertainly. “Sloe will call me back and tell me for sure.”

  “We will...we will...rock you!” a voice roared behind my back and the couple of winos tumbled into the kitchen together.

  “Like a bunch of Queen groupies,” Pasha quipped. “Although, why groupies? It’s Mercury and May in the flesh.”

  “You just wish you had our vocal chords,” Wallace retorted, squeezing into his seat. “Kiera, why don’t you sing something, huh?”

  “Yeah, Kiera Khan, play us a tune,” Pasha joined him.

  Sasha didn’t say anything for the giant bite of an apple in his mouth, but he actively supported his friends with gestures.

  “What’ll it be?” I picked up the guitar synth and waved my hand.

  SLOE CALLED BACK an hour or so later, chipper and cheerful. My guess had been confirmed, and our prickly friend managed to become the hero of the entire Hidden Forest, which came with some incredible rewards. When he called me, he was already basking in his unexpected fortune.

  “Geranika’s plan was a cunning one indeed,” I related to my friends after Sloe hung up. “He did not want to simply kill the First, he was going to leave his dagger in her body and then let her corpse be solemnly buried. During the funeral ceremony, the Tree absorbs the dead. Thus it would absorb the dagger with the corpse. After that, it’s simple—the dagger blights the Tree and it spawns a new leader—the Blighted First. But a further consequence would be that all newborn biota would be born blighted too. It’s like a Trojan dagger, you see. Thus Geranika’s Empire grows in territory and warriors and the remaining unchanged biota are sent to Kartoss. I am even sure that they have some kind of sacred seed of the Tree, which they will solemnly plant, so that players can still play as vanilla biota for Kartoss.”