Avatar of Light

by Dmitry Bilik

  Having said that, the tag above his head was a bit unsettling. It said: Spy. Who would have thought?

  “Couldn’t you have found a better place to meet?” I said, sweeping my hand around the place.

  The bar was well and truly a commoners’ domain, if you know what I mean. It had a small dance floor in the back where some rather outdated uptempo music was playing. The backsides of the tables were caked in gum. Heavy wooden chairs completed the interior design, together with so-called “intimate” diffused lighting and a brightly lit bar. Here, female patrons were all of a certain age, clad in all-too-revealing glittery dresses, and men had already entered their mid-life crises. Not the most respectable of places, if you asked me. It would never have been my choice for an RV.

  “Please take a seat, Sergei. I’ve ordered you a beer. My name is Valfail. I chose a busy place like this just to make sure you don’t do anything you might later regret. My son and I have made some inquiries. As it turns out, you killed none other than the Destroyer God, and then you exterminated the great Talsian himself.”

  I chuckled, making a mental note that his mention of Two-Face was rather contemptuous while he seemed to have referred to Talsian with a great deal of deference. “Who are you?”

  “Just somebody who’s trying to find his place under the sun. I used to live in Elysium, I fought in Purgator, but everything in life comes to an end. I came here in search of peace. I married a local girl and had a son with her. Still, I never completely lost contact with my brothers. It was they who told me that just before the battle with the Kabirids, a half-blood human had come from Cesspit in order to pay the ransom for his pisshead Korl friend. He paid it not with money but with Devil’s Sulfur.”

  The Archalus sipped his beer, set his mug back on the table and smacked his lips with satisfaction. I tasted mine just to fill in the pause. Well, I shouldn’t have. The beer was bitter and gave me the impression of having been tampered with.

  “After the battle, a few more interesting details came to light. In the heat of that battle, one of the captains had accompanied both the man and his Korl friend to the Community. And how did they reward him? That’s right, with more sulfur. All this gave them the impression that the man in question had a lot of that particular ingredient so valued by the Archali. Some of them even tried to look for him but unfortunately, he’s never been seen in Purgator since. So that got me thinking. If this half-blood human came from Cesspit, it stood to reason he’d go back there. But how do you find an ear of wheat in a haystack?”

  I paused, trying to work out which one of the two annoyed me the most: the old Archalus with his broken wing or his offspring. In the end, I decided it was the former. The so-called “Max” was only a sidekick, but the mastermind of this little outfit was sitting right in front of me.

  “I did so by locating his Korl friend, the one he’d come to rescue. But in order to locate him, I first had to search for the right city in Cesspit. Luckily, I got talking with yet another pisshead, an Archalus, who told me that he’d recently taken a half-blood who fit the description to Lutum. According to him, said half-blood came from Sorrow. And can you guess who was the first person we bumped into the moment we arrived? It was Trowg! How lucky was that?”

  Kaf! Just wait till I find you, and I’ll strangle you with my bare hands! Still, I didn’t blow my cool; I even corrected the smug bastard:

  “His name’s Traug, not Trowg.”

  “Sorry. Traug it is. It didn’t take me long to locate the individual I’d been looking for. I followed him — or you, rather, — and found out where you lived. You’d be surprised how far a bit of baksheesh can take you these days. After all this time spent among humans, some of their customs rub off on you. Very soon I knew the name of the person who lived in that apartment. After a bit more digging, I found out all I needed to know about your whole family. Although Darya is still very young by local standards, Lily was a perfect fit. My son played his part impeccably, so well that very soon your sister wanted to introduce him to the family.”

  He must have noticed me clenching my fists because he hurried to add,

  “Please don’t overreact. This place is full of commoners.”

  “And what if I do? I could always kill you, I suppose, and then do away with your son. Then I’d just sit it out in Purgator.”

  “What, and leave your family behind? And your lifestyle?” he asked in a distinctly trembling voice. He could say what he wanted but this devil — oops, sorry, this “angel” — was clearly afraid of me.

  “Okay. What is it you want?”

  “Nothing really. Like, thirty grams of sulfur? Because you see, my son here has a problem. He really wants to become a Seeker. Which doesn’t come cheap. I know some good vendors who deal in sulfur. I don’t think it’ll be so difficult for you to find some. Otherwise, you know... anything could happen.”

  My hand reached for the knife of its own accord. Still, I forced myself to stop. Don’t get me wrong: I was dying to bury my blade right between his eyes just to wipe the smug grin off his face. But he had a point: doing so right there and then would mean immediate banishment. Or something even worse. What a strange character: he was visibly afraid of me but still trying to lay down terms. He must have been really desperate.

  “What’s gonna happen once I’ve brought you the sulfur?”

  I purposefully hadn’t said “if”. I wanted to throw him off guard and make him believe things were going to plan. Otherwise, he’d be too unpredictable, trying to play it safe. Naturally, I had no intention of complying with his demands. You don’t negotiate with blackmailers, as simple as that. Because if he sensed any kind of weakness in me, he would start tugging at the leash whenever he had an opportunity. Now all I had to do was decide how to get rid of this pair of idiots with the minimum amount of hassle.

  “We’ll disappear,” he replied, “and leave you and your family alone. Your sister might be upset for a while, but at her age, the pangs of a lost love can only do her good, don’t you think?”

  I cast a glance at “Max” who was openly ogling the aging women on the dance floor, eyeing them with badly concealed lust and some sort of... of longing? Of course he was young, but still he gave me the impression he was suffering from a bad case of blue balls.

  “It might take some time,” I said. “There’s no more left where I got it from the last time. I need to rob another grave. That’ll take a while.”

  He all but jumped on the spot, his eyes sparkling like those of an alcoholic at the sight of a bottle. “How long?”

  I had a funny feeling that his son’s initiation was only an excuse. I could bet my bottom dollar his daddy had his own plans regarding the precious ingredient.

  “A week,” I said. “That should be enough.”

  “If you say so. I’m happy we could come to this arrangement.”

  He stuck his hand out but I ignored it. He wasn’t worth it. He was visibly embarrassed but tried not to show it. With a fake stumble, I clambered to my feet, “accidentally” shoving his son aside. The fake Max ouched as he recoiled.

  “How do I contact you?” I asked before I left.

  “You should have my son’s phone number in your phone’s memory. Just give him a call.”

  I nodded and left. Naturally, I had no intention of procuring sulfur for that blockhead. It’s just that a week should be plenty of time for me to work out what to do about those two. Something bad enough to hopefully cause them some physical damage.

  I strolled pensively along the street until I came to an empty shop front. I could see two Middle-Eastern migrant workers busy lugging sheets of plasterboard inside.

  That’s when I had a brainwave. Could it really be so simple?

  I pulled out my phone and dialed Arts. Luckily, she was within range. Even more luckily, she picked it up after the third ring.

  “Hi, can you speak?”

  “Sure. Is it urgent?”

  “Sort of. How did you contact that guy, Conjurer
? Do you still have his number?”

  “It’s not so easy. You wouldn’t believe it but he asked me to page him, of all things. Then he’d get back to me. It was a different number every time.”

  “Page you?” I asked, refusing to believe it. “Do pagers still exist?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “In that case, could you please give me the number?”

  “Hang on.”

  I waited in front of the empty shop window all but dancing in place with impatience, which in the end drew the attention of the two migrant workers. So I left and carried on toward the bus stop. After about thirty seconds, I received the number I needed.

  Okay, let’s try it.

  I dialed the paging service operator, still worried that it might be some kind of ripoff. Really, who was still using pagers these days?

  “Hi, this is Informex Service. My name’s Tatiana, how can I help you?”

  “Hi, Tatiana. Can I leave a message with you?”

  As I said it, I felt like a complete idiot. Still, the girl seemed to have perked up. “Could you please give me the number and the message?”

  “It’s 3491. Message: I have a business proposal for you. Signed: Hunter’s student.”

  “Excuse me? Did you say ‘hunter’?”

  “That’s right,” I said, unwilling to satisfy her curiosity.

  “Thanks for using Informex.”

  “Thank you,” I hung up.

  Now all I had to do was wait. The only question that remained was whether the Conjurer would be interested in somebody like me. Logically, he should be. As far as I’d gathered, he knew Hunter; he must have also known that he’d recently taken on a new student. He might even think that it had been Hunter that had given me his number.

  The uncertainty didn’t last long. I received a new system message immediately followed by my phone’s ringtone.

  Your Persuasion skill has increased to level 16.

  “Hi Conjurer. I’m sorry I don’t know your real name.”

  “Do we know each other?”

  “We met earlier today in the park.”

  “You’re the Seeker who was with Arts,” he said. “Are you really Hunter’s student?”

  “I am indeed. I have some business to discuss with you.”

  “If you mean that little illusion, then I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it...”

  “That’s exactly what I’d like to discuss. That was one hell of a tentacle. I really loved it. I’d like to hire you.”

  “Oh. Actually, I already have some plans.”

  “I know! You wanted to get the hell out of here and move to some far-off tropical paradise on the other side of the Network to get the most out of our money.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, how about you stay for a few days longer than planned but in that case, you’ll have a bit more money to burn?”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “I’d like you to create a believable illusion of a certain place in every detail, so good you can’t tell it from the real thing.”

  “Is that all?” he sounded disappointed.

  “Yes, that’s all. No need to kill or kidnap anyone.”

  “Okay. That’ll be two kilos.”

  “You’re not serious, are you? Half a kilo will do it. It’s not as if you have to do much.”

  “Are you suggesting I spend several more days in this shithole for a measly half a kilo?”

  “Okay, one kilo. But not a gram more.”

  “Very well. I’ll do it, but only out of respect for Hunter.”

  Your Bargaining skill has increased to level 5.

  “I’ll call you soon with all the details.”

  I wouldn’t have said that this conversation had improved my mood but at least it had given me some sense of closure. Were his services worth the price of a second-hand BMW? Probably not. Was my family’s security worth that much? Absolutely. It was a no-brainer.

  I stumbled back home feeling dog-tired, clutching two clinking beer bottles. I was in no mood to read or even eat; all I wanted was to get spaced out in anticipation of meeting the Horseman. Bumpkin was busy cleaning the floors looking remarkably cheerful, humming some old-fashioned tune. I removed my boots, peeled off the trench coat and tiptoed into my room. Despite the divine smells coming from the kitchen, I didn’t feel at all hungry.

  I turned the TV on, opened a beer and texted Julia. By the time I was done with the first bottle, she’d texted back, wishing me good night, just as yet another brainless talk show began.

  I reached for the remote to zap it and froze.

  A tiny beady-eyed creature covered in brown fur was looking up at me from the floor. Its head was the size of my thumb. You’d think it was tiny but by then, I’d already jumped up onto the armchair.

  “Bumpkin!” I wailed like a Banshee.

  The goblin arrived. He looked at me, then at the mouse, but wasn’t in a hurry to get rid of it. On the contrary, he picked it up and began stroking it.

  “What’s this?” I asked without taking my eyes off our furry visitor.

  “It’s a mouse. It wasn’t easy to find one! I had to go down to the basement to get it. There’s so much junk down there you can’t imagine! Rusty bikes, strollers, all sorts of old stuff. And it’s all under lock and key as if someone might be tempted to steal it!”

  “Bumpkiiiin! Where did you get the mouse from?”

  “That’s what I’m telling you! I saw some mouse droppings down there but it wasn’t easy to catch one! Still, I got you a couple, look! A boy and a girl. This one is a boy. He’s so quick, you should see him run.”

  “Bumpkin!”

  The new lamp clinked its protest at my thunderous voice.

  “What the hell is it doing here?”

  “What do you mean?” the goblin sounded sincerely surprised. “A household without mice is a poor, miserable place. It means there isn’t enough food to go round. You might be a bit weird but you’re a good master, I have to admit. Okay, so you don’t have a house of your own yet, only this apartment, but it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have mice! What’s the point of having a cat, then?”

  “Which cat?”

  “I met one in the street the other day, he might be a good choice. A big brute of a thing. All he needs is a good wash and something for fleas. He’s one hell of a fleabag!”

  “We’re not taking anything else on, okay? No cockroaches, not even a centipede! Now would you please take this rodent to where you found him! And his girlfriend! Is that clear?”

  “Yeah,” he grumbled, then vanished together with the mouse.

  I heard the bathroom door slam, followed by silence. It didn’t last long though. After a brief while, Bumpkin reappeared before me.

  “Are you serious about the cat?” he asked, frowning.

  I gave him a stern look. “Bumpkin, just don’t start, okay? I have my hands full with you as it is already. Any more domestic animals would be a bit over the top.”

  “It’s just that your house is so sad and quiet. At least my old master had a radio which played all kinds of songs.”

  How were you supposed to get angry with him? With a grin, I reached for another beer. I gulped it down in one go — whether due to all the stress or just because I was thirsty. This almost atomic energy of his might need pacifying before I came home one day to discover a pig in my bathroom being fattened up for Christmas, or a bunch of hens brooding in a kitchen cupboard.

  I booted up my laptop, checked a technical goods site and located a cheap plug-in radio which was only 700 rubles[13]. I rummaged through my wallet for my credit card which I hadn’t used in quite a while. Bingo! I still had 1,500 rubles on it. I ordered the radio to be delivered.

  “Bumpkin!” I shouted. “Tomorrow they’ll bring you a radio. When they ring at the door, just shapeshift into me, answer the door and sign for it.”

  “No way?!”

  His voice came from directly above me. He dropped onto my neck and gave me a cudd
le. His bristling hair got up my nose, so I did my best to give his friendly hugs a miss.

  “Bah! Bumpkin, you honk of the basement! Enough of this already! Go take a shower! Just make sure you don’t bung up the pipes again.”

  “Don’t worry, I saw how you unblocked them,” he replied with such confidence that I got seriously worried he might flood the place out again.