Most of the place was defensible… up to a point. The big weakness was that large windows lined the eastern wall, the one that showed the street. A few display racks sat on tables there, prime specimens of gluten ready for tomorrow’s festival. If there was a tomorrow for Bothernot.
Chase looked around to either side. These were mostly empty, only the remainders from today’s pastries left. For a second, she considered a donut, but no… she’d forced herself to eat on the march over, and she’d just leveled a bit earlier, anyway. This was neither the time nor the place.
So instead she looked over to where the others were staring back at her, silent, anxious, and unblinking. Renny at least had an excuse there, but Greta’s eyes were bulging, and her knuckles shone white in the candlelight where they gripped the counter. Gadram’s stare was a bit crooked… he had to slouch to stand up in here. The ceilings topped out at four feet. Not too horrible for him, but that couldn’t be comfy in the slightest.
“Okay,” Chase said, her voice cracking slightly. “Okay,” she said with more firmness. “I know I’m here because I can heal. Greta’s here because we work well together. Renny, Gadram, why aren’t you on the front lines? I thought they’d put you with your other friends.”
“It’s zombies,” Renny said. “Air blasts won’t do much there, and my air elementals just aren’t big enough. Once I get another level and hit ten, I’ll be able to call up bigger elementals, so that might change tonight.” He spread his paws. “And my Sensate illusions won’t work on them. Probably. They don’t have working brains that can be fooled.” He tilted his head. “Which makes me confused because does that mean smart undead are vulnerable to illusions? I don’t know. Maybe it’s because zombies have weird senses or something.” His ears folded down.
Chase tried to drag him back from the tangent. “Okay. So, you’re here because…”
“Air control might not be good for killing zombies, but it can hold them back for a bit and give you time to get away if it comes down to it. And I know a suffocation trick that might stop the Necromancer if he gets here.”
“And you?” She looked to the dwarf.
“I’m here because I’m a Burglar,” Gadram said, grinning. “Not much fer fighting, great with straight up sneaking and climbing. Or traps.” His grin faded to a scowl. “If I had me trapmaking supplies, I could rig up some nasty stuff. But the witch who charmed me made me use ’em all up back in the prison.”
“Okay… and Dad didn’t put you out there as an advance scout?”
“He said he wanted ta use locals fer that. His town, his rules, we figgered. Which is fine. I’ll go move between the bakery, the church, and wherever the front lines happen ta be. No one’ll see me, and I’ll run if I get trouble. But mainly I’ll be here so ye can use me as a runner if bad things happen.” He pointed upward, at an angle. “Got the window nearest the woods open. Nice shadows there, I’ll climb in and out as needed.”
“Okay.” Chase licked her lips. “Hopefully the fight won’t get here.”
“I’m no helpless if that happens. I’m a dwarf, after all!” He lifted his dagger, made it dance across his fingers… up until it fell to the floor, and he cursed. “Just maybe not the best fighter around.”
“Better than me,” Chase said, making a mollifying gesture.
“Right,” he sheathed the knife, clearing his throat. “Do ya have any trapmaking supplies around? I really would like to set up some nasty tricks for them undead.”
Chase and Greta shared a look, ears folding back in mutual surprise at the suggestion. “What kind of self-respecting halven would be a Burglar?” Chase finally said, when she saw he was serious. “Er. No offense.”
“Ba ha ha ha ha! None taken, lass. So what do ya do, besides heal? And talk yer way out of things?”
“Well… That’s really about it, mainly.” Chase chuckled. “Oh! I can see the future, too. And transfer conditions around.”
“See the future? Really?” Gadram’s bushy eyebrows climbed into his hairline. “That’s amazing! Why don’t ya tell us how it’ll work out?”
“It doesn’t work like that. It only lets me see ten seconds out… well, Foresight does. No, wait. I just got something earlier!” She remembered. “Status,” she examined her skills for a moment. “No. This only works when the gods want to send me omens. And portents. I don’t see a good way to pester them for one. They do it, not me.”
“But what if yer god wants to send ya one? Why don’t ya look around, and see if one turns up?”
“I suppose I could. I don’t know when things are going to start here. I guess I’ve got nothing better to do…” Chase looked at Greta. “Can you and Renny cover the windows that look out into the streets? We’ve only got a few candles, but they might draw attention.”
The two looked at each other, nodded, and got to work. Gadram took his leave upstairs and presumably out the window for the first patrol, and Chase got to work looking for signs from Hoon.
It didn’t go so well. The coins in the tin below the counter didn’t fall in any significant way when she asked questions and flipped them. The packet of tea leaves she found upstairs didn’t do anything when she poked it, and she had no idea if any other usage was required. The candle wax didn’t fall and form tiny dioramas that showed the battle to come.
Chase was about to give up hope when Greta and Renny came upstairs. She could barely make them out in the dim light of the single candle that she was carrying. “It’s done,” Greta said. “We’re going to wait up here and play spotter. Renny can use his air magic through the windows if it comes down to it.”
“Thanks. I guess I’ll wait downstairs then, so I can heal people quickly.” Chase stood up from where she’d been peering under the bed and sat the candle on the nightstand. “I’m surprised nothing has happened yet. It feels anti-climactic, you know? We rushed to get here, and now we’re hurrying up and waiting for the bad thing to happen. It’s not like that in the stories.”
“Most things aren’t. It’s why I never read the things,” Greta said. “But we’ve got time to kill, I guess. Wanna play some cards?”
“You’ve got some?”
“Technically, you’ve got some. You won them, remember?” Greta unlimbered Chase’s pack from her back. “I was going to ask if you wanted this back, by the way.”
But Chase wasn’t listening.
Chase remembered just what cards she was talking about. And how Hoon had worked his magic through them, during their first meeting. “That’s it! Thank you, Greta!” She took the pack and headed downstairs.
“Uh… you’re welcome? Should we come downstairs if we’re going to play?”
“No!” Chase shot back. “We’re not going to play. I’ll explain later. Keep watch!”
“Oh-kayyyyy…”
Chase moved back to the counter of the bakery and pulled the nearest candle closer. Rummaging through her pack, she found the slightly-waterlogged book that Hoon had given her and thumped it onto the counter. She winced at the damage, but found it no worse for the wear, really. The leather cover was good, and the paper was unusually thick, compared to the cheaper books she was used to.
The cards were entirely untouched. Their wooden case had protected them from water and worse. Chase shuffled them, doing as Hoon had told her, focusing her mind on the question;
What should I do to survive what is to come?
Then it was time, and she dealt the cards one by one, putting them in the pattern that Hoon had showed her. Five cards, one in the center, then one in each direction, forming a diamond around.
Yes. Yes, that was how it went. And after another minute of scrutiny, she remembered the meaning of each position.
INT+1
Staring at them, trying to figure out what the cards filling the spots signified, Chase finally cracked open the book and flipped through it. Instantly her nose wrinkled. This Silver-ravven lady didn’t have any real familiarity with things like spelling, grammar, or punctuation. Not even
a passing acquaintance. She might have mailed participles a postcard once, but that was about as far as it got.
But then Chase found what she was looking for: a list of short descriptions of each of the cards. She carefully flipped through the drying pages and read as she looked at each of the upturned Fortuna cards.
“The first card is me,” Chase said, considering it. It showed a single, sharp-faced man lurking in an alley, pouring coins out of a purse. A dagger symbol sat at the bottom below the picture, pointing at the man. “The Ace of Rogues.” She looked back to the page, quoting the mangled words. “Pross perity? New money-grubing opportune-ity? A right kunning man-jack who be nott afrayd to stick it to thee mann?” It DID sort of fit her, come to think of it. In the last day she’d opened up a lot of new opportunities and good things for herself, that were thoroughly against the law. If the Camerlengo made it out of the mountain, Chase would have a lot of problems to come.
And speaking of that… “The next card is what happens if nothing changes. It’s fate… but you can fight it,” Chase muttered to herself. “If you want to.”
The card showed a green and blue ball, with tiny clouds hanging around it. At the edges of the ball it faded into green numbers, that filled up all the blank spots up to the card’s borders. The title at the bottom read “THE WORLD.”
It was the very last card in the chapter. Chase read it over, feeling a bit of relief as she did so. Maybe things would work out after all.
“A holeness, things falling into playce. All as it shullde be, and none out of orrdyr. Accomplish-meant. Travel.”
Well, that was what Chase wanted, wasn’t it? To find her own place in the world? This was looking good.
The next card was the ally… and Chase puzzled over that one. It showed an armored, handsome man wielding a flaming sword in one hand and a rose in the other, driving back twelve thoroughly demonic looking monsters. “The Knight of Clerics,” she read. Does this mean Father Gronk? Or Mother Bloom, maybe? I don’t think they’ve got the Knight job.
Then she remembered, it was all about the symbolism. The book, as usual, was helpful despite its atrocities against her language.
“A cre-atiph fellow, or a strong rumantick pauseability. Known for charm, whimsy, and hand somme ness.”
Chase blinked. She didn’t have anyone she felt rumantick toward, or even romantic, when you got down toward it. Romance was for silly-headed girls like Millie, who only dreamed small dreams about houses and children and the unchanging boredom of Bothernot. Or it was the province of randy young lads who tried to wheedle their way into her skirts, the ones that she’d gotten so good at shunting toward more eager girls. But perhaps she was dwelling on that aspect of it too much? The cards had multiple meanings. And anyway, he was an ally, not a goal.
He.
Definitely not Mother Bloom then. And hopefully, hopefully, not the frog priest.
Shaking her head, Chase moved on to the next card. The choice at the crux of the matter…
A woman stood bound in chains, circled by eight swords held by people beyond the borders of the card, only their gauntleted hands showing. Each sword was perhaps a few inches from the prisoner, clearly threatening a good stabbing if he moved.
“The Eight of Warriors,” Chase said, returning to the book. Mucked up as it was, each explanation had made a sort of sense. And this one did too…even if it was worrisome.
“Imprisonne Meant. Hessitationn. Trapped by ye own Minde. Wicked and fearfull thouts.”
My choice is to remain bound? Bound by what? I literally just escaped the prison, now something’s going to trap me?
Well, she’d keep an eye out for guys with swords and not put on any pro-offered handcuffs. Chase left that card to sit for now, and looked to the last card, the one filling the “Enemy” slot.
It showed four people grinning at each other, dividing up the spoils from a very dead dragon in the background. One of them wore black leather and looked shifty. Another was a holy man, resplendent in a mitre and robes. A third woman wore chain mail, and had a sword on her back. The last was a small woman with glasses and a pointy hat. The card named them “THE PARTY.”
“I have four enemies?” Chase said, confused. The book helped clarify it. A little bit, anyway.
“Love, thow nott allweighs of a fysickal sort. Part-nurse, relationshippes, and honest temppetation.” Chase read it over again, staring down at the cards.
“Is this a sign? Or an omen?” she wondered to herself, in the flickering candlelight. “How would I know?”
The skill didn’t even have levels, so she wouldn’t get the benefit of the words appearing, telling her when it had gone up. What use is this, even? Chase thought to herself, with irritation. It was one she'd gotten at job level five, too. Those should be more impressive than her beginner level skills, she thought. That was how it was supposed to work.
But no, Chase’s Oracle-increased wisdom reminded her that that’s how she thought the world was supposed to work. The world had a nasty way of turning out like she didn’t expect it to, twisting and turning, going upside down in the space of a hot minute. One day her Father was the most boring farmer ever to hoe a field, the next day it turned out he was a competent and veteran mercenary from wars she’d never thought he’d even been near.
No. Upon reflection, the world was full of surprises. Her eyes strayed back to the card, to the fate that awaited her. Did that mean that it would all work out? At least it wasn’t in the enemy’s spot. The world truly wasn’t against her. She chuckled and closed the book.
But as she went to scoop up the five cards and add them back to the seventy-five others, she stopped.
I’ve been looking at this the wrong way. I keep thinking that the horde of undead is the problem. But that’s not the problem, is it? That’s just part of the problem. The real problem right now is the necromancer behind them. That could be the meaning of the Party. He’s not coming alone.
Chase felt her mind ease up a bit. Oddly enough, the realization calmed her down. She had spent years focusing on people, dealing with people. Figuring out their motivations, watching their methods, learning their little tics and tricks. Out of self-defense at first, because she had dreams and desires that were alien to her peers… but after a time, she’d done it for fun, because it made the long, boring days in Bothernot pass more easily, and because when you got down to it…
When you really got down to it, Chase was good with people. She nudged and guided and subtly maneuvered them to where they’d be happier in the long run or away from things that would lead to bad endings and big trouble. She moved like a gardener among her peers, soothing here or being sharp there. Everything was to a purpose, and it was a necessary one. And if she’d been forced to remain in Bothernot, then she would have eventually graduated into the ranks of adulthood and learned to play those games too.
And she would have been great at it, damn it. It would have been a soggy, horrible second prize, much worse than her dreams of travel and adventure, but she would have made it work somehow. Because when you got right down to it she liked working with people.
Vaffanculo, she thought, didn’t. With one exception.
Thomasi.
The Necromancer needed Thomasi? Why? For his ability to summon clowns for unending fodder?
Unending to a point. It would still cost Thomasi energy to summon clowns, and it would cost Vaffanculo energy to raise them up. That was probably why he hadn’t assaulted the town, yet. Without any refreshing beverages to drink, or food to eat, he would have to wait awhile to regain whatever pooled energy he’d spent. He’d come, she was sure of it, but only when he had enough to handle a fight.
There was the distant possibility that he could do what Chase had done and select an unlocked job from his help screen to level up and refill everything… but no, Chase thought that wasn’t likely. He’d been trapped in Pandora for what, twenty years or so? And the prisoners there had tried to break out before. No, Chase thought that if he
had any job slots open, he would have filled them at that time, during his struggle to escape or in the crushing boredom as the years rolled by. Chase hadn’t seen how Vaffanculo had been imprisoned, but given the callousness shown to Dijornos and Speranza, she doubted it was any more merciful.
Thomasi, on the other hand, had a comfortable cell. He had books! He got contact with other people on a somewhat friendly basis, judging by the bits she’d read from his journal. This wasn’t surprising. Thomasi was a Grifter, like her, and he would shine in areas where he spoke with people. He managed to conceal a deep dislike for Speranza for decades, letting her think he loved her. That wasn’t easy. But he’d managed.
Vaffanculo, by contrast, seemed about as social as a boiled boot. Granted, Chase had only met him once, but she doubted her impression was wrong.
Back to the core of it; was that why he needed Thomasi? Because Thomasi could cover his weaknesses?
Or…
Or he was lonely.
Wasn’t surprising. For years he had all of five people to talk with, only five peers.
Five peers who were like nigh-immortal demigods, if Dijornos was to be believed.
She was getting closer, she knew it. Closer to a breakthrough. To… something. Something big. She just didn’t know what.
Chase knew that Speranza had referred to her peers as “Playas.”
Were playas a sort of monster? Like faeries, or dragons, or demons? She’d never heard of that word being used to describe a specific type of monster before.
Or was it like elves? She’d read that elves gave each other more courtesy than they did other races. Even when it was different types of elves, like wood elves and high elves and low elves and all of that. Well, except for dark elves, anyway. Nobody liked dark elves.
Elves were kind of nigh-immortal, weren’t they? They lived a long time.
Big Trouble Page 23