by M J Sweeney
“Wait… wait…” Something clicked. “Don’t tell me you’re the one, the only human survivor from its raid on some goblin village…?”
He blinked up at me in surprise and then slowly nodded. “Zelbor Dizzini.”
“Gods, Elz, you’re full of surprises. Let me get this straight. This necromancer…”
“Elabrille,” Elz supplied.
“Right. It goes on one of its murderous rampages with all its minions, and ransacks your village.”
“Burned it down. Killed Elz’s mother and father and brother.” He was looking right at me as he said it, his face a blank mask.
“Right. Shit. Leaving you an orphan… so you grow up into this fine upstanding citizen,” I continued.
“No, not.” Elz’s face contorted from his blank stare, and he couldn’t help himself snorting in laughter. He smirked at me, so I grinned in reply. The subject was horrible, but it was good to find humour in odd places. It was nice to see Elz had a sense of humour. I was definitely warming up to the kid, sharp edges and all. It was hard not to be sympathetic under the circumstances.
“And then what? Get adopted by Jayvar?”
He shook his head. “No, not. That came after.”
“All right. So you join the brotherhood…”
“Yeah. Elz was twelve.”
“And they promised to help you kill the creature that killed your village and family?” I arched my eyebrows, waiting, and kind of bracing myself for the next surprise. Surely the way this was going…
“Yes… Fun word game.” He smiled at me. I think he was referring to me asking questions, saving him the hassle of telling his story from scratch. “But I didn’t know where necromancer was.”
“Right. So you what? Go looking, start searching?”
“Yes. I learned everything I could about surviving in forest, and then went looking. Eventually I found the ruins, a couple of years later, and I also saw the necromancer returning to the ruins. Only I couldn’t get inside.”
“Right. So you’ve been asking the brotherhood for help, and they seem to agree, but at the last minute they renege on the deal, and you… what? Steal some of their coins?”
“I don’t know what this rinig is, but yes, is correct.”
“Renege means break a bond or break your word. Go back on a deal.”
“Yes. They broke promise. So I came here.”
“Why Ell’Escow? Did you know I used to live here?”
“No, not.” That was a strange coincidence then. “Elz’s adopted family related to Menisme. Trade clothes with her.” I remembered then that Jayvar had said he was a cloth merchant. “Also the brotherhood’s main hideout is in the mountains not far from here—and then they’re coming soon—only I stole their lockbox, mebbe slow them down some…”
“So… how much did you steal?”
He looked a bit guilty, his pale face colouring slightly. “About six-hundred zorb.”
My mouth popped open in surprise, Elz smirked at me again. “What-the-fuck. Shit Elz... and you came to me? I mean, I don’t know you, you don’t know me... why me?” Gods. He’d have the equivalent of the Russian mafia on his back stealing that amount of money. It was like painting a big target saying come and get me. And if they associated me and him together, considering I was already on their shit-list, doom and gloom for the both of us.
“Juisse trusts you,” he was saying.
“What? The little girl?” Now that was a curve-ball.
“Yes... my sister,” he said.
He hesitated there for a moment, and I thought he was going to say something else.
“And that’s enough for you to bring all this to me?”
“You already try to clear out ruins?” he asked, so I nodded. “Elz figured that was more… what’s the word… evidence?” I nodded. “You make a song, killing necromancer. Figured you wanted to make it true.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. Trust that better than brotherhood, ’specially now. I can also pay you for hire, help me against brotherhood and the boneymen.”
I looked at him incredulously. Shit, shit, shit.
He laughed at my expression. “Or maybe just buy some really cool gear…”
“You think we can attack them in their hideout?”
He shook his head. “Nah, too dangerous. Mountains are bad. We’d need to hire an army to attack there, need a plan, and more time. Better we just kill the ones going to elf ruins, then Elz can kill Elabrille. The money is for Elz anyway, they owe me.”
“What do you mean?”
“What you call it? I paid them guild fee, loot, all. And they never repaid me even one little copper oll.”
“Like back-pay?”
“Yes? Mebbe. Don’t know the meaning.” He went on, “I’ve been stealing stuff and paying brotherhood for almost five years.” I think that meant he was almost seventeen years old. He looked younger, skinny and pale as he was, despite the scars and serious face. “Almost…” He was ticking off his fingers, seeming to do rapid sums in his head. “After dwarf loot, almost two thousand zorb.”
“Holy shit, Elz. That’s crazy. You stole most of that?”
He looked down, clearly embarrassed. “Yes.” He looked to the front room. “Don’t tell Menisme?”
“All right, mate, I’ll keep that one to myself. But about the dwarf loot?” He was looking down, his shoulders hunched. “If you’re going to make amends with me and Ligan… and Big Nose for that matter, then you’ll have to pay them back.”
He looked up at me again, seeing I was serious, and slowly nodded. His dark eyes were glittering, calculating. It seemed I had already decided to help the kid. Plus, in the end, it was probably going to help me too.
“Is only about sixty zorb tops. So easy-peasy.”
“And weregild for the disservice and hassle.”
He scowled, looking unhappy. “Maybe one-hundred zorb?” he offered.
“And a big fat personal apology.”
Again he nodded, if a little sullenly. Nothing like dragging a teenager to water to drink—worse than a horse.
“Now… a reality check. I… need time to think about all of this,” I said.
He looked me in the eyes, “Yes,” he agreed, his face neutral and accepting for once. The way his expression constantly changed, it was like navigating a very complicated road map.
“I’m going to take a day or so to chat with some friends here, and as long as you stay put, we’ll sort something out real soon, and come up with a plan. All right?”
“Yes. But please don’t take long,” his forehead creased in a frown. “There’s not much time.”
“Yes. Fine. I’ll see you soon. Don’t run off.”
“All right…” he murmured. I finished the last of my tea. He hadn’t touched his, but he did pick up the small cups and pot, looking like he was headed back to the kitchen to clean them up. Maybe not such a bad kid after all. I had a brief whispered conversation with Menisme on the way out, assuring her I’d listened to Elz and was considering all he’d said.
***
That afternoon, I was fortunate enough to arrange a meeting with Max, Alhain, and his brother Allih. It seemed Priestess I’Daon was away for a few days, doing some errand with her brother. Nevertheless, deals were brokered and agreements made. If all went well, then a lot of people should profit from my new venture with Elz. If not, I’d either be dead or I’d be owing all of them a lot of money. Indentured service did not sound appealing. But I was heartily gratified that the three of them were willing to trust me and offer help. Some of it was even financial—Max surprised me there.
Chapter 30
Early the next morning, I spoke to Elz again. He was helping Menisme sew a small pink dress. With sequins. It looked funny from where I was standing: the dark-haired teenager scowling over his stitching, looking completely out of place. When he heard me chuckling, he looked up and scowled some more, pretending to menace me with his scissors.
“It’s goo
d learning,” he explained, a little defensively. “So I can repair my own clothes, no?”
“Shit, mate, I won’t disagree. But you do look really cute. Cute and cuddly and adorable.”
Menisme was standing right there, so she laughed out loud, while Elz scowled and ground his teeth.
“F… you…” I heard, but it was under his breath, as Menisme was pointing a finger at him.
“Elz,” she admonished. “You’ll have to pay more tax into that swearing jar.”
“Yes, granny.” He looked up at me. “I think he swears more than Elz…” He nodded at me, as his hands were full.
“He can pay too, then.” She tried to look fierce, but her eyes were crinkling with a smile.
I chuckled, “All right, all right… I have good news,” I said then.
Elz’s dark eyebrows rose, a faint smile on his thin lips. “Yeah?”
“Let’s talk.”
***
Fortunately, as my interface had dinged multiple times, I received some bonus experience for all of that, completing some social quests and aligning myself with Elz for the nonce. I regained level 22, and was close to level 23. I also remembered to allocate another passive ability point (I had one spare) to Toughness 2—as my vitality was now at 40, I could do so—further increasing my health.
Elz and I went shopping and made various purchases. Once I had vouched for him, Max seemed happy to let Elz into his shop and paw at all his goods. Elz was as happy as a pig in mud, as they say. Plus, he kept his sticky fingers in check, after I’d warned him of the repercussions—he’d lose any chance of my or Max’s help.
When Max saw us stuffing our purchases into our packs, he frowned at me in some confusion.
“Where’s the bag?” he asked.
“What?”
“The magic bag…”
I flinched a little in guilt. “Oh, shit, right. It… was stolen. Just a few days ago…” My voice sounded whingey and plaintive even to my own ears, dammit.
I trailed off as Max was really glaring, and then laughing, slapping his small thighs. Tears were actually running down his face.
“What? What’s so funny?” I complained.
Elz looked at us in bemusement, then shrugged, turning back to look at more gear.
“I think you deserved that, dryad. Make me give it to you… almost for nix, and then you get it stolen at the earliest opportunity… Isserad’s justice, eh?” Max was really enjoying himself. He pointed at me, waggling his fingers.
“Hmm, it’s still not funny,” I complained again. I was raw that Ingriss now had it, and raw that Max was amused by the fact.
“Oh, but it is, it is.”
After he’d calmed down, I used Max’s shop interface and looked up some legendary gear, much as I had before at Anzan’s. In the end, most of it I couldn’t use—I wasn’t high enough level or didn’t meet the requirements. Plus, most were too expensive. Next, I looked up some elite gear.
/ Staff-Spear of Slaying / Elite Silver-Steel and Hickory
[+10% Damage, +10% More Damage vs Beasts, Lycans, and Beastmen, +10% Chance for Bleeding Status, +10 Tracking]
28 zorb
/ Staff-Spear of Homing / Elite Silver-Steel and Hickory
[+5% Critical Hit Chance, +10% More Damage vs Rogues, Fae, and Hidden Creatures, +5% Deflection, +10 Detect Hidden]
28 zorb
/ Staff-Spear of the Piercing Strike / Elite Ghost-Steel and Hickory
[+10% Armour Piercing, +10% Attack Speed, +5% Deflection]
32 zorb
/ Staff-Spear of Light / Elite Mithril and Ironwood
[+10% Accuracy, +20% More Damage vs Undead and Deepers, Light +1 (1200 Mana)]
39 zorb
They were all quite good. Perhaps the third one would work best for me, or the last, as it was likely I’d be fighting undead for a while. Elz had also offered to buy what I needed right now, which was good of him. He didn’t seem attached to his newfound wealth, rather the opposite—all too keen to spend it. He was a teenager.
“Elz?” I asked.
We were waiting for Alhain to finish hammering from a job he had—fixing a steel breastplate. Elz was fiddling with his bone tooth necklace—a hideous looking tribal thing with ugly teeth of different sizes strung along a lumpy looking cord.
“Yeah?”
“You said the brotherhood was planning to go to the Eragdas ruins. Do you know when?”
“Yes. Early next month, Dolce. After the Festival of Masks.”
“Really? Why then?” I asked.
“They make lotsa money that time—stealing, swindling, con-jobs from tourists.”
“Oh, right. Makes sense. And what about the lockbox? You said you slowed them down somehow?”
.“Yes. I took all the coins, but gave the lockbox and key to goblin friends. They went deeper into the mountains, so mage-tracker’ll follow them and not Elz. Lockbox has special lock and key, and lock keyed to detect, div—whatsammie spell.”
“Divination spell?” He nodded. “Nice. Smart.”
He grinned at me, happy at the praise.
“But won’t that get your friends in trouble?”
“Unlikely. I told them to drop it in a zoss pit, so no trouble. Plus they’re goblins, good at running off…”
“Zoss?” I asked.
“Big snake…” he gestured with his hands, indicating a lot bigger than one body length.
“So you think Eragdas will be empty, and no invaders from the brotherhood, until near the middle of Dolce?”
He frowned. “I think so. Hope so.”
Maybe… just maybe we had about five weeks until we encountered the brotherhood. Hopefully enough time to prepare—first we had to get to the ruins, but then again, so did they. Nevertheless, I felt the pressure. It was hard not to run around like a headless chicken and try and get everything done faster.
When Alhain was finished with his hammering and tinkering, he took us to a private room—a small shed at the back of the forge—so we could sit down and talk without disturbance. One of the reasons he seemed keen to offer me help, was that he also needed help in return.
“Alhain, thank you.” He nodded. “Are there any special requirements for making two sets of the master-level elven leather? I think one set of the combat version, and one set of the scout version.” I looked at Elz as I said this, and he nodded keenly.
“You want me to make some master-level armour for Elz here…?” Alhain said this mildly, but I could feel his reluctance.
“Yes. Is that going to be a problem?” I didn’t believe in beating around the bush, nor did I believe I had to explain myself. As far as I was concerned if Alhain was prepared to help me and craft the next level of armour that I required—still at the usual cost—then he could do the same for Elz, on my behalf. I was trying to give the kid a leg up.
Alhain dropped his gaze first. “No. No, I don’t believe it will be.”
From what I understood with Elz, as he had lousy dispositions with most people, particular shop owners, not only had he never bought himself nice gear, he’d also been unable to have anything crafted. As he didn’t like crafting himself, much like me, he’d always made do with hand-me-downs and discarded magic that the other rogues in his ex-guild didn’t want anymore.
“I would also like you to make this set like normal—in fact, maybe a bit tattered.”
“You want me to make tattered armour? What do you think of me?” Alhain asked incredulously, shaking his head. The pride of elves!
“If it looks old and worn-in, and nothing special, and even like it doesn’t really match, it won’t attract attention. For both sets,” I insisted.
Elz was rubbing his hands gleefully. “Whenever Elz found nice gear the brotherhood would take it. I was a lowly member when younger, and so I never kept much until recently. Now I can be full rogue! I only hope the brotherhood doesn’t nick the new gear...”
Alhain looked horrified, so I held out my hand placatingly. “We’ll do our be
st to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Alhain frowned, but didn’t make a comment. “What are your fees for this?” I asked.
“That’s fairly simple. Fifty-four zorb for you and seventy-two zorb for him.” Ouch, I thought. Elz really had bad dispositions, with a twenty percent mark-up on the cost. I think the only reason Alhain was doing it at all was because I was vouching for him. I nodded, and Elz also—he didn’t seem bothered that he had to pay more.
“And now, sir smith, how can I… how can we help you?” I included Elz with a nod.
“All right… it’s like this.” Alhain hesitated a moment, looking a little shy and reluctant, quite unlike himself. “It’s not usual for a master-craftsmen to ask for help—you’re supposed to be able to become a master and grandmaster from your own hard work and effort, at least mostly. But the sad fact is, very few masters reach grandmaster status because it is so damned expensive and time-consuming. I have to work and earn money too, for me and my family, no? The guild basically prefers it that way, so there is a bit of a monopoly within Geras…” He trailed off.
“And as Escow is a fair way from Geras, that makes you an unlikely candidate for gaining help to get grandmaster status?” I surmised.
“In a nutshell, yes. So I’ve been thinking, I may as well use your help, as you seem to be offering it readily…” He looked me in the eyes.
“Yes, certainly,” I agreed firmly, which made him smile faintly.
“I need to apply for the position in person in Geras Anandiel, pay the fee, and donate some equipment” —He nodded pointedly at me and Elz— “and craft an item deemed worthy of the grandmaster rank. I am a lay priest of Lindane—as all master craftsmen and enchanters must be dedicated to one of the divines in order to imbue any magic of note. If Lindane blesses my project, only then can the item be fully completed.” That was news to me. I guessed elite gold-dwarf enchanters would all likely worship Durdain then. Alhain’s eyes were twinkling, as he knew I was listening keenly and taking mental notes.
“Okay, yes to all that. How else can I help?”