The Right to Choose

by Andrey Vasilyev

  “You two…” Kro sniffed, though ibn Kemal’s glance told her not to continue that phrase. She crossed her arms over her chest, slipped her hands under her arms, puffed out her cheeks, and stared at the floor.

  ***

  With a scrape, the door opened, and I gaped in surprise. I would have expected anyone but Brother Yur.

  “Hell-llo, good people,” the treasurer said with a wave. “The v-victor’s feast? Very good.”

  “Hello, brother.” Ibn Kemal got up from his rug, threw his arms wide, went over to Brother Yur, and embraced him. “You’re just in time. I was doing my duty to these young people and giving them their just desserts.”

  “Excellent,” Brother Yur said, sitting down next to me and looking at Kro. She was still in her injured queen pose. “Why a-are you looking like a mouse with-th his mouth f-full of seeds, beautiful K-Krolina? Who offe-ended you?”

  “Do we know each other?” the girl asked in surprise, looking back at him.

  “For the last little-le while, I’ve been-n keeping an eye o-on Hagen,” Brother Yur said. “We h-have a special rel-lationship, and I consider it-t my duty to know everything that happens around-d him. And, o-of course, to know who h-his closest circle is.”

  “Really?” Kro stared at me. “A relationship? Damn, Hagen, you’re a scary guy!”

  “A business relationship!” I practically choked on my baklava. “Think before you speak!”

  “Oh, of course, she gets it,” ibn Kemal said with a wave. “Women…”

  “You’re dressed like Brother Herts,” Kro said, studying the treasurer openly. “Are you part of the same crew?”

  “He’s m-my subordinate,” Brother Yur replied kindly. “I w-was the one who sent him to assist-t you.”

  “Wow!” Krolina batted her eyes. “Who are you?”

  She was clever enough to realize that an NPC wouldn’t have walked in to see the head of the assassins so confidently unless he was someone interesting, and that meant there could be something in it for her.

  “Me?” Brother Yur picked up a piece of baklava that dripped with honey. “I’m th-the treasurer of the Te-earful Goddess Order.”

  “Ah-h…” I could tell that he’d fallen off her radar. Oh, just a treasurer. No quests, no profit, and not worth spending time on.

  It looked like one of the few instances where her gut feeling betrayed her. In my book, Brother Yur was probably worth more than all the ruling dynasties of Rattermark combined.

  “We c-can’t all be kings,” the treasurer said apologetically. He’d also picked up on what was going on and was having his fun. “Somebody has-s to keep the books.”

  “Sure, sure,” Kro agreed. “Okay, I think it’s time for us to head out.”

  She got up from her rug, the rest of us following suit.

  “It was n-nice to meet you in person,” Brother Yur said gallantly. “I’ve h-heard much about you from my subord-dinates.”

  Kro perked up, as vain as the next girl. “What do they say?”

  “That y-you are beautiful and unrelenting,” Brother Yur smiled. “That you could conquer-r an entire a-army with just your smile.”

  “Yup, that’s me. Thanks! Hey, could we get someone to walk us out?”

  She headed toward the door, and I was about to set off after her.

  “You, Ha-agen, I’d like to a-ask to stay.” Locks slammed shut in Brother Yur’s voice, chilled with caves and rattling with chains. “Not for l-long. You, b-beautiful lady, should-dn’t wait for him. It’s n-night out, and you should be asleep.”

  “I’ll decide for myself when it’s time to sleep,” Krolina replied with a firmer voice and a stronger back. She was no longer the offended girl with the puffed-out cheeks; in front of us was a warrior.

  “Okay-y, okay.” Brother Yur held up his hands. “Don’t l-look at Hassan and me that way; you a-already have us beaten. We j-just want to talk with Hagen. We’re friends, believe me-e.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, going over to the girl and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Really, it is. He and I have been friends for a long time, and it’s thanks to him I haven’t wiped my account five times over.”

  “An NPC?” Krolina’s brows shot up.

  “Imagine that.”

  “You can tell me later.” She bowed to ibn Kemal. “Thank you, wise Hassan, for today. For the battle, for the lessons you taught us, for your food. A few hours spent with you gave me more than years of my life.”

  “I keep saying she’s smart, and therefore dangerous. Like a viper,” ibn Kemal smiled. “You keep an eye on this boy.”

  The assassin pointed at me; Kro smiled in assent. Brother Yur got nothing more than a cold nod as she walked out of the room.

  “I don’t think-k she likes-s me,” Brother Yur said as he sat back down on a rug. “W-women are s-strange creatures, strange and unpre-edictable. That’s why-y I don’t like having anything to do with th-them.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “That’s just Krolina.”

  “Tha-at explains it.” He took a cup and spooned some sherbet into it. “Although, I did-dn’t come here to ch-charm young ladies. I needed you. Fin-nding you in the castle of our future k-king of th-the Borderlands is difficult, and I don’t have time to scour-r the continent for you. When I h-heard you were here, I a-asked Hassan to detain you-u a bit.”

  “You could have just passed a message to me through Brother Herts,” I replied, scratching my head. “If you’d asked me to stop by, I would’ve. I don’t mind.”

  “I don’t know; I th-think you’re getting presumptuous,” the treasurer laughed. “For e-example, just the o-other day, you were in Leeba ta-alking with the great master, playing the fool, and you d-didn’t even stop by to see me. It s-sounds like you’re too proud, not the f-fine young-ng man I once knew.”

  “Oh, that’s no good,” Hassan said sadly. “Rude. Not stopping in, not showing your deep respect for a friend.”

  “Yes, yes-s,” Brother Yur replied. “Oh, th-the times, my friend.”

  “What are you talking about?” I shot back indignantly. “What do you mean, playing the fool? The only reason I didn’t stop by was because I was practically kicked out of the castle!”

  As soon as I got that out, I realized that I’d fallen for their feint. And if they’d been putting me on, it was a strong possibility that I actually had played the fool.

  “Ah-ha, you realize how-w stu-upid that was to say,” the treasurer said immediately. “Wha-at are you doing? Why did you r-refuse to help the order? Why didn’t you come visit m-me before going t-to see von Akhenvald?”

  The fun and games were over, Brother Yur was getting down to business, and I didn’t like it at all. Everyone giving me a hard time in real life was enough; I didn’t want to have to deal with it in the game, too. Soon, I’m going to be so low that sandwiches will be giving me orders. What are you putting on me? Sausage on cheese, not cheese on sausage? And where’s the butter?

  I exhaled deeply to keep from screaming, Then, I quietly gave the treasurer my answer, his eyes not even blinking as he stared at me.

  “I don’t remember, sir, signing a contract with you about going into your service. Because of that, I will decide for myself when and where I go.”

  “You’re r-right. On the other-r hand, we have a common cause, and, therefore, comm-mmon responsibilities. Or do you n-no longer want your fr-riend Lane to be king of the Borderlands?”

  “I do. But where’s the connection between him and that Dark Lord?”

  Suddenly, it hit me. The connection was the number of fighters they had to offer, their level, and how interested they’d be in fighting for me. I decided not to let on that I understood, however, to give myself room to maneuver. Although, even taking all that into account, the grand master’s relationship with me was…tricky.

  “You-ou declined the request-t of the great master,” Brother Yur said. “It d-doesn’t matter how. That was foolish-sh. Simply foolish. If I h-had been there, t
h-things could have turned out differently, but you didn’t stop by. I apo-ologize for repeating myself.”

  “So, what now?” I needed to finish the conversation and figure out how bad things were.

  “I-I only see two options.” Brother Yur sighed. “First-t, you can a-accept von Akhenvald’s r-request.”

  “And the second?” I asked coolly. The first alternative was no good.

  “I’ll admit that-t you’re unbelievably-y stubborn, and I’m trying to think about how to p-pull you o-out of the hole you’ve dug for yourself, but you k-keep digging instead of trying to climb ou-ut.”

  It felt like somebody was trying to force me to accept the quest. Maybe, that’s actually what’s going on.

  “I’m glad you aren’t turning your back on me, even given the way things are,” I said a bit bombastically, though making sure Brother Yur understood my position clearly.

  “Wo-orking is so hard these days,” the treasurer said to ibn Kemal. “I’m u-used to people not wanting to th-think, but now they won’t even-n listen. What’s wrong with the world?”

  Ibn Kemal could only wave his hands. “You’re telling me.”

  “Do I u-understand correctly that you still r-refuse to help-p the order?” Brother Yur asked, eyes narrowing. “Give m-me a straight answer, and we’ll be done with the i-issue.”

  You are being offered the Inner Circle series of quests again.

  You can decline this quest without any penalties, and doing so will not have an effect on your relationship with Brother Yur.

  Note! If you decline, you will never have another chance to get this series.

  Thank God! I wasn’t in any hurry to get it since I anticipated far more trouble than it was worth. Plus, everything else I have in the minus column while I’m thinking about it… I hit no and didn’t feel a thing when the message disappeared from the interface.

  “Nothing-ng we can do about that,” Brother Yur said. “Ex-xpect me to drop by the castle. I’ll let y-you know through my people wh-when. Perhaps, the master will-ll no longer be angry-y by that time. Oh, and I w-will need to speak with our c-contender for the throne privately. Figure out-t how to make that happen.”

  “He doesn’t hide from anyone,” I laughed. “Everything’s pretty democratic in the Borderlands.”

  “An u-unfamiliar word, and such-ch an unpleasant one,” Brother Yur replied, glancing over at ibn Kemal. “Democratic. Like a na-ail on glass, no?”

  “If I didn’t know the boy, I’d think he was cursing at us,” Hassan said. “But he’s a good one. Don’t be angry with him. I call him foolish, but he’s really a good boy.”

  “Okay-y, let’s not go too far.” Brother Yur shook a finger at me. “Look a-at him sticking his no-ose in the air.”

  “I didn’t stick anything in the air,” I muttered, just happy I hadn’t sacrificed my reputation.

  Ibn Kemal walked over to me. “Son, do you still have my firman?”

  “Your what?”

  “I gave you a firman you can use to get into my fortress whenever you want. Do you still have it?”

  I glanced into my bag and nodded.

  “Yeah, it’s there.”

  “You can keep it.” Ibn Kemal stroked his mustache. “Our gate is always open to you.”

  Your reputation with the order of assassins and its leader, Hassan ibn Kemal, has reached friendship.

  That sounded good to me. It was a great opportunity, though I could tell I was also being told that it was time to leave.

  “Thanks,” I said with a bow to ibn Kemal. “It’s an honor.”

  “Respe-ectful and stubborn,” Brother Yur said. “What an o-odd combination.”

  Ibn Kemal glanced at Brother Yur, who nodded ever so slightly. If I hadn’t known where to look, I wouldn’t have noticed it. But, as it was, I’d been expecting something like that, so it wasn’t much of a surprise. I didn’t know what it meant, though.

  “That’s not all.” The assassin clapped, the door opened halfway, and Tafir glanced in. Ibn Kemal gave him a quick order. “Have Nazir come here.”

  ***

  A minute later, my erstwhile bodyguard walked into the room. He was a thick, short assassin with a carefully trimmed beard and two sabers fixed to his back.

  “Nazir, from this day onward, you will be my young friend’s shadow. If you must die for him, you will do exactly that. If you must kill for him, kill. Understood?”

  “Understood, master,” the assassin replied with a bow.

  “And now, that’s all, boy.” Ibn Kemal walked over to the table and picked up an apple. “Here’s some food to take with you. Don’t be offended; Yur and I have things to talk about, and I don’t think you’d find the conversation very interesting.”

  Yeah, right. I wasn’t sure what else I would find more interesting. But, of course, it was no use pushing back. He could have changed his mind about Nazir or even told him to… Yeah.

  I said goodbye to the pair, even giving ibn Kemal a hug, and noticed Yur looking at me with…pity? It was either that or a smile.

  ***

  As I walked out of the fortress, I checked the time. It was almost midnight. Again, I was faced with a dilemma: go see Ort or put the visit off for the next day.

  I thought about it for a little while and then turned to Nazir.

  “What do you think? Should I take care of something or go home?”

  “We’ll go wherever you say we’re going,” the assassin replied impassively. “I don’t have the right to advise you.”

  That makes sense. No, I think I’m going today. I was afraid I might not be able to pull it off the next day. The old bastard was going to throw everything he could at me, and I wasn’t going to have much time the next day. First, was getting the bosses to let me go, then, I had to get to work. There was no telling what the evening would bring.

  Where’s Ort’s portal?

  Chapter Two

  In which new and intriguing horizons open for the hero.

  With a flash of red, I tumbled out onto the stones in front of the hermit’s cave.

  “That hurt,” I said to Nazir, who was trying to find something in the bushes around the open area we were standing in. He didn’t say anything, presumably, because he didn’t think my comment was worth a response.

  There was a light shining in the cave, and dishes rattled.

  “Okay, warrior, you wait here,” I said to the assassin, expecting him to tell me how he was the one who decided when he would be going where. But, no, Nazir nodded and froze.

  “Wow.” I shook my head and walked into the cave.

  The damned old man must have gone out chopping firewood. Tripping over some wood that had been left in the doorway, I toppled in and rolled right up to his feet. He looked like he was just sitting down to dinner.

  “What is this?” Ort roared. His beard fluffed up, reminding me of a broom, and an unpleasant light flashed in his eyes. “And you had to come right when I’m eating again, huh?”

  “It’s okay. Why don’t we just take care of our business real quick? Then, I’ll leave so you can have your meal.”

  “Wait a second.” The hermit sat back down on his stool, his hand clutching his heart. “Do you mean to tell me that you managed to get your hands on the third part of the key? You?”

  “What do you mean, me?” I asked indignantly. “You didn’t think I could pull it off?”

  “Of course, I thought you could. I believed in you. Sure, you look kind of silly, but that’s just the outside. On the inside, you’re an eagle! Just tell me—did you get the last part or not?”

  “Well, how do I put this…” I decided to string him along for a bit just for fun, and his face changed color a few times when I said that. First, it went red, then, there was a yellow tinge, until finally, it settled on green.

  Green means go. “Okay, okay, relax. I have what you’re looking for in my pocket, though I’m not going to just give it to you.”

  “Just give it to me? Of course
not; I promised you a reward for your labors, and you’ll get it. So…”

  The old man leaped to his feet, padded over to the curtain that concealed his living quarters from straying eyes, rattled around, and came back out with a bunch of things clutched to his chest. I looked at the pile he dumped on the table greedily.

  “Give me the key and take your reward.” Ort held out his calloused palm. “Well?”

  “No good,” I replied, waggling my index finger at him. “You promised to answer three questions, and you’re not getting anything until you do.”

  Ort’s beard quivered. “Yes, I remember. As soon as you give me the key, you’ll get your answers.”

  “No, thank you. What exactly did you tell me, old man?”

  Ort squinted his right eye and looked at me slyly.

  “You said that I’d get my answers as soon as I brought the key here. Well, here’s the third part.” I pulled the piece of gold out and waved it under his nose. “Just like you asked.”

  “What’s your name?” the hermit asked gloomily.

  “Hagen,” I replied, a bit surprised.

  Ort scratched the back of his neck. “Odd. And that’s your real name?”

  “What are you talking about?” I started to worry that the overwhelming emotions had gone to the hermit’s brain. Can NPCs lose their artificial intelligence?

  “Do you follow your father’s line or your mother’s line?” Ort continued. “Did your ancient ancestors complete a long desert journey by foot?”

  “I’m an orphan.” I felt a little better; he was just cracking dark jokes about my nationality. “Just an orphan, that’s all. Come on, old man, let’s just get this over with. You’re the one wasting your own time.”

  “Screw it.” The hermit sighed. “Ask away.”

  “The first question is the same one I asked you back then,” I started, taking a deep breath. “Who put their marks on me? Please give me the whole list.”

  “I can’t tell you about all of them.” Ort was scowling, and it looked like he was going to try to pull one over on me again. He clearly wanted no part of what was going on. “I’ll just tell you who I see.”