by John L. Monk
Cipher shook his head. “Even I can’t fake a truth orb. If I assembled an illusion of a golden orb in front of a black one, it would wisp apart. I cannot break the rules of this world, Ethan. No one can. In a way, Mythian is nearly the perfect prison.”
Cipher’s wizened demeanor darkened at the word prison.
“I’m not calling you a liar,” I said hastily.
“Good.”
“And I’m sorry that you feel like you’re in prison.”
“Not just me,” he said. “You’re stuck here too.”
“I’m getting used to it.”
“There’s also your wife,” Cipher said. “She has but a single life, and not a tremendous amount of health points. For her, this prison is more like a death sentence. Unless…”
My one fear in this world, and he’d laid it bare.
“Unless what?” I said.
Cipher reached out and squeezed my shoulder in one of his bony wizard hands. “Unless you help her escape, of course. Me too, in a sense. And yourself, if you’re interested.”
Trying and failing to keep the desperation from my voice, I said, “Yes. I’m interested. How do we do that?”
“As with everything in Mythian,” he said, “you must travel a quest.”
Chapter Nine
When Cipher said he could get me and Melody out of the game, I’d assumed he meant we could migrate to a retirement world like Untouched Earth. After realizing my mistake, he’d laughed and said no, he meant out of the game and into one of Everlife’s robot bodies—skin frames so perfectly humanlike nobody could tell they weren’t real. There were leaked reports of these gizmos numbering twenty million worldwide, owned almost exclusively by the rich and powerful.
“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” I said. “And I am grateful—more than you’ll ever know. For the first time in years, I suddenly have a reason for living. But…”
“But now you’re wondering: what’s in it for Cipher?”
“Something like that.”
The old man smiled. “Your kind is far more complicated than we lucids. Most of us exist for a single purpose or a few at most. So imagine my situation: gifted with the power to do anything I want in this world, but only to further a purpose I was never assigned.”
Something didn’t seem right.
“Why can’t you use your powers?” I said.
Cipher shook his head. “I can use them, but I don’t have any worshipers. To use one’s powers, a god must spend karma, which is replenished over time by priests, shamans, paladins, and other zeal-users who adventure in their name. Yet another way to get karma is by assigning quests.” He sighed in frustration. “My role has no linkages for worshipers. What karma I scrape together comes from players, like you, who perform quests on my behalf. This is an exceedingly tiny amount of karma, compared to the so-called gods. Bernard, the Innkeeper, is in the same boat as I. But he has a purpose, whereas I do not. In truth, I have zero interest in running quests for people. The void in my imperative has been filled by another desire.”
“Which is?” I said.
“World building,” Cipher said. “Having spent so much time gaming with Melody and others, I find myself driven to create a new ward in Mythian. It shall be a new land—ruled by me—open to anyone who wants happiness without the threat of pain or permanent death. To do this, I need to operate outside the karma system, and I need to be made invisible to the developers’ game logs. And that’s where you come in.”
We talked for the rest of the night. And though I listened, my mind repeatedly circled back to the skin frame. Barring accidents of some kind or another, Melody and I would live forever. We could resume our old friendships, make new friends, and do just about anything we wanted—even resume our formerly (I thought) happy marriage. Also, I seemed to recall a cash prize for winners, because whoever won still needed housing and clothes. Even in our modern world, sleeping on the streets and running around naked was still a no-no.
Cipher’s plan was conceptually simple:
I’d journey to Ward 4 and overcome the final guardian. Once out of the game, I’d locate a fired Everlife developer Cipher knew of. Then, using part of my cash prize, I’d bribe him to write a special game patch—one that would remove the karma restrictions on Cipher, filter him from the game logs, and register Melody as an official player.
After that, I’d plug back into the game remotely through an interface Cipher would guide me to, then install the code. Freed to use the full extent of his powers, Cipher would then kill the Domination for Melody, and out she’d come in a brand-new skin frame.
“That’s a lot of things,” I said drily. “And I’m not even close to powerful enough for Ward 4, let alone the Domination. Even Jaddow couldn’t beat it.”
Cipher said, “If we do it right, you won’t have to fight it—and don’t ask me what that means. I’m bound by the game to dole out quest details slowly. Mythian recognizes this plot of mine as a quest. It isn’t sure if it approves or not, which is why I’m being very careful not to actively do too much. Karma, as they say, is a bitch.”
“Careful?” I said. “How so?”
He scratched his chin thoughtfully before answering. “Tell me something: before I caught up with you tonight, why did you choose Heroes’ Landing as your next destination? Why not go exploring in Ward 2?”
“Because Melody’s not a real player. It’s safer there.”
Cipher nodded. “And why is that so important?”
“Because she can be killed. She’s not safe in Ward 2. Not even in town.”
“And how do you know that?”
“There was an accident,” I said. “She cut herself on a wine glass.”
Cipher frowned in puzzlement. “But your wife doesn’t seem very clumsy…”
I stared at him curiously. Why was he being so insistent?
“Someone bumped her,” I said, “and she dropped her glass, okay? When she picked it up, she got cut.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. Cause and effect. Think back: did you happen to see the person who bumped her? What did he look like?”
I almost snapped something hasty, then thought better of it. Truth was, I hadn’t seen the person. The room was crowded, and I’d had other things to worry about.
“It was you,” I said. “Wasn’t it?”
“Me? Taking direct action? What a curious notion.” He clapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly. “Now, onto more important things: after you drop off Melody, you must return to Ward 2 for the first leg of your quest.” He glanced worriedly at the sky. “Very quest-like, I promise. Everything on the up-and-up, in complete adherence to the rules.”
“If I leave her alone,” I said, “she’ll run off. She thinks this is all a big game. I mean, it is a game, for most people. But she won’t accept that it isn’t for her.”
Cipher waved it away—a non-issue.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something to keep her out of trouble. Why not spend a little time with her? You’ve only just gotten back together. Look around. Sightsee. Then, afterward, convince her to remain in safety while you finish what you have to do.”
I looked into his ancient wizard eyes for any hint of a darker suggestion—one where I compelled her to stay through force of will.
Following that line, I wondered what a god with no purpose and access to unlimited power could do. Would he really build a 5th ward where pain didn’t exist? Or would he erect statues of himself everywhere and carve his face on the moons?
In the end, I decided, that wasn’t my problem. As long as Melody and I got out, he could do whatever he wanted.
Still smiling, Cipher leaned forward again to warm his hands over the cold blue flames.
In the morning, over eggs, bacon, and coffee, I sketched for Melody the events of the previous night. At first, she seemed happy at the prospect of leaving. She hoped to transfer from her skin-frame to a space-based game. But when I told her she’d have to wait for me in Heroes’
Landing, she balked.
“Just for a little while,” I assured her. “The way he puts it, there’s no other choice.”
“But if I’m too weak to help,” she said hotly, “how will I ever be strong enough to fight the Dominatrix?”
“Domination,” I said.
“Whatever it’s called.”
I told her the part where I convinced an ex-employee to rewrite part of the game code.
“Ethan, that’s illegal! You can’t just go … go … bribing people.”
“I can if it means saving your life.”
Her voice softened. “How well do you know this Cipher person? A few notes? One meeting? And now he wants you to break the law. I don’t trust him. Not one bit.”
I understood her skepticism, and yes, I felt it too. But he hadn’t lied to me yet. That earned him at least some credit, if not a degree of loyalty.
“Speaking of knowing people,” I said. “How well do you know him?”
“I already told you. He was there when I—”
“I mean in real life.”
Melody’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “But I didn’t. He’s not a person, Ethan.”
“He says he knows you.”
I told her his claim of being a former guild-mate in the games she used to play.
Melody shrugged. “If he was, he looked different. Sounded different. I think you’re relying a little too much on his word, here. He wants power? That’s understandable, given that this is a game and power’s so important. But people who want power lie.” She grunted a laugh. “People lie for just about any reason. You were always too trusting.”
“Speaking of trusting…”
Trying not to flinch, I finally told her about the Curse of Knowledge and the Kenning Man perk. At first, she seemed confused and thought she’d misunderstood me. When the truth finally dawned on her, she got upset.
Chapter Ten
After my admission, I endured a lot of silence and general disagreeableness. We’d had fights before but rarely had they lasted more than a few hours. This one festered for two days and ended with a tired, “So what else are you hiding from me?”
I told her everything that had happened to me since coming to Mythian. She was a good listener—didn’t interrupt even once, though her expressions ranged wide. When I recounted my adventures in the swamp, she laughed at how a monkey had saved me with a coconut. When I spoke of my time under Myrialla’s tree, she looked saddened, but I felt she was proud of me.
At any mention of Rita, her expression was inscrutable, and I chose my words carefully.
“And now you’re a human lie detector,” she said finally.
Cautiously, I nodded.
Melody stared into her lap and wiped her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
She shook her head.
“I was always restless,” she said quietly. “Marriage never settled well on me. I loved you. I still do.” She pointed over her head. “See? But whatever it is that makes one person want to spend the rest of her life living with another person … I just don’t have it. That’s why I played all those games. You saw it as bringing in money while having fun, but you never understood what gaming meant to me.”
I took her hand in mine. “Then help me understand.”
“It was an escape. When I felt squeezed—sorry—I’d start a game and enjoy the … this sense of freedom. Afterward, when reality called me back, I’d blink shut the game, eat my dinner, and go to bed. Back then, it was enough. But now that I’m dead, it isn’t. It can’t be, not forever. I’m sorry.”
I knew what this said about me was easily as unflattering—that while she was off wallowing in freedom, I was reading a book or mindlessly watching subs, wallowing right back.
“Was I really so tough to live with?”
“It was never you,” she said. “I can’t imagine living a life with anyone but you … I mean, if I had to live with someone. You’re a good man. What you did for me … the things you went through…”
A bitter part of me wanted to say no, she couldn’t imagine what I’d gone through, but all that would do is divide us more. I wanted a loving wife, not an obligated one.
“One thing I do know,” she said, “is I don’t want to rot in some town waiting for my man to save me.”
“It’s a city,” I said lamely.
“I could help you.”
I shook my head. “Don’t you understand? It’s almost impossible not to die. The whole world’s a giant death trap.”
Melody regarded me keenly. “Go on.”
“You think you’re safe one moment,” I said, “and the next thing you know, you’re dead. Those monkeys I told you about? Cute little things—you could kill them with the lowest-level spells. But because I made a simple mistake, they kicked my ass harder than creatures a hundred times stronger. Then there’s this Greenie Red guy—shows up out of nowhere and kills me and my friend, for no good reason.”
“I believe her name was Rita,” Melody said in a neutral tone.
I nodded, trying not to swallow. “Look, there was nothing between us.”
“Between who?” she said innocently. “You and Greenie Red?”
“You know what I mean.”
Melody shrugged.
“We were just friends. She knew I was married. She respected that.”
Then you kissed her on the mouth.
Melody said, “I have nothing but the deepest faith in my husband, and shall for the remainder of my days.”
“Great,” I said, and tried not to sound guilty.
It meant nothing.
Our week together in Heroes’ Landing was as close to a second honeymoon as we’d ever had. Dancing every night (her idea), old-style theaters from a hundred years ago (mine), forays into Under Town for easy adventuring, and lots of strolling through malls and shopping districts in the N-dimensional towers. Afterward, every night—because we were both young and virile again—well, we enjoyed that too.
Not every experience was so pleasant. Occasionally, we were reminded of Melody’s unregistered status, and it always came as a surprise. When we went to see about getting her a bank account, we ran into the “No Minions” problem and she couldn’t go in. Another time, dodging a horse, she slipped, fell, and gashed her elbow. It healed quickly, but was an unpleasant reminder that for her, the city wasn’t a sanctuary.
Around the fourth day, while shopping for flowers to bring back to Melody, I ran into a mob of players I’d inadvertently saved from the dryad. They circled me and shouted obscenities, threw punches that never landed, and followed me around the city until I lost them in Under Town.
The second time they found me went differently than the first. Once again, I was out shopping—this time for fruit. They couldn’t touch me, but they could spit, and they did so on every delicious plum, orange, or tomato I picked up.
I’d had enough.
“Myrialla, the Dryad, is alive and well in Ward 2,” I said. “Vale of Solace. Haven’t you heard?”
No, it turned out, they hadn’t heard.
Most didn’t believe me and kept spitting, much to the distress of the lucid cart worker. The ones who believed got even angrier because almost none of them were high enough to beat the Ward 2 guardian.
After apologizing to the cart worker, I lost my pursuers and returned to Melody empty-handed.
From that point on, we took to eating at the apartment I’d rented for her. If my enemies discovered she could be hurt, they’d waste no time in killing her for revenge.
Despite those few blemishes on an otherwise perfect vacation, departure day came too soon. We were standing near the door to her apartment high up in one of the towers. A high-end unit with several large rooms, it offered a jaw-dropping view of the city for 1000 gold a month. I didn’t mind. Security before comfort, I figured. But comfort, too.
Because I couldn’t be sure when I’d get back, I’d paid a year in advance. I also relocated most of my gold from the bank th
ere so Melody could buy things and feed herself. We’d learned through experimenting she needed to eat to survive.
“I don’t know when I’ll be back,” I said.
I was anxious to hit the road, but felt awful she’d be stuck here waiting for me.
“What if I decide to follow you?” she said. “I know how to get to the bridge. And I seemed strong enough for those lizardmen, not to mention those creatures in Under Town.”
There was a highish-level section we could reach by flying—me using my robes, her turning into a magnificent bald eagle. Every time she’d turned into an eagle on the trip from Heroes’ Reach I’d been on pins and needles. It wasn’t easier underground, either. Though I never let on, I had this fear she’d turn back into a human while flying.
Melody wasn’t boasting about her fighting prowess: she’d made quick work of Under Town’s weremoles and shadow creatures. But she still only had one life.
“You know I can’t stop you,” I said, “but I hope you’ll stay in the city. For both our sakes. I can’t do what I need to, knowing you’re in danger.”
“Well, you could stop me…”
Not since leaving Ward 2 had we spoken of the power I had over her. Yes, she was my “minion.” As such, I could compel her to do anything I wanted. But what about what she wanted?
In a way, my old wife was gone. This new one wanted her freedom. Would I turn into her old husband—the one who’d pushed too hard and ignored her feelings? Or would I become a newer, better man who’d listen to what she wanted?
“I’ll never do that again,” I said. “I told you that, and I meant it.”
Not saying anything, Melody leaned against my shoulder as we gazed over the city.
Chapter Eleven
Standing in the street next to my trusty mount—who I’d gone ahead and named Sammy, at Melody’s insistence—I stared up at the tower where my wife now lived. The thing soared half a mile into the sky, a cylinder of white with no windows visible from outside. Using most of my remaining gold, I’d stocked every room of her apartment with healing potions in case she somehow got hurt. I’d also purchased several boxes of sci-fi books from a local store. Just like the ones in Jaddow’s library, these were leather-bound with paper pages. Melody loved them.