by RW Krpoun
The meeting place Astkar had chosen lacked drama: he had rented a private room in a tavern less than a hundred yards from the Dancing Mermaid, and was waiting there when a serving girl ushered the Black Talons through the door.
The room was a smaller version of the tavern’s dirt-floored common room, better lit by a ball of light hovering in each corner. Greenish shards of crystal the size and shape of dagger blades rested in wrought-iron stands at the four compass points, and a small blue triangle of what appeared to be glass was hung from a nail in the center overhead beam.
Seated at the chamber’s only table was a small man in dark green robes whose thinning black hair was pulled back into a pony tail. A connected mustache and goatee encircled a pursed mouth that suggested a sour disposition and his gray eyes were hard. He silently waved a thin, pale hand at the bench at the opposite side of the table.
As planned, Jeff and Fred stayed by the door, Shad and Sam sat at the table, and Derek, burdened with all the loot, remained standing near the table.
“Astkar, these are the rest of my group, outlanders all,” Sam said nervously. “We want to un-banish ourselves, and we need the Assembly’s help to do so.”
The mage stared disinterestedly across the table; Shad sat with his arms crossed across his armored chest, staring back and rapidly losing patience. As the silence dragged on he started counting to himself, and when he reached a hundred he stood. “Time to go.”
Derek immediately began lurching towards the door, only to halt when the mage spoke. “Patience is a virtue you lack.”
Shad turned back, but the mage was staring off into the distance. “ ‘Need’ is a stronger term than necessary. We can make it home without the Assembly, but it would be quicker for us and profitable for you if we worked together.”
“The arrogance of your kind is quite astonishing.”
“So we’ve been told.” Shad resumed his seat. “You know what we want, and we know you will want payment. This holds the promise of a wonderful relationship.”
Astkar’s mouth twitched. “The Green League thinks highly of your powder. Why did the other outlanders withhold this information?”
“They didn’t. The powder isn’t in common use in our…place anymore, not for a more than a century. I happened to know how to mix it, but few others do. Up until now the Council has been importing people who think and imagine, whereas we are people who get things done.”
“So you believe you can get things done?”
“More than just believe. We bagged a necromancer out by the Fist, burned a lizard-man skull in the Moors, and are freshly returned from a successful foray into the Great Field. None were easy, but all were within our grasp.”
The mage brooded, tapping his fingers. Shad waited, letting Astkar take his time. He wasn’t impressed by the theatrics, but figured at this point certain indulgences were necessary.
Then Astkar looked up, and something in his face made the Jinxman uneasy. “Perhaps you are the sort to get things done. Certainly we shall find out. You need blood, stones, and a location, correct?”
“Yes, sir,” Sam nodded. He started to say more but the mage held up a finger.
“You have an item of power, something from the Great Field, correct?”
“Yes, sir, we brought it as trade material and to demonstrate our ability.”
“Indeed.” The mage stared off into the distance for a moment. “Did you know the Council is looking for the Assembly?”
“Yes, sir.”
Astkar waved a hand at the green crystals in the stands. “These will hide us, and especially the fact of our meeting. Under no circumstances should you indicate in any way that you are having dealings with the Assembly.”
“We understand. Can the Council track us by magical means?”
“Outlanders, even such as yourselves, are not wholly of this place, and certain rules do not apply. Tracking you is very difficult after a lunar cycle spent here. Ordinary spying, on the other hand, is as effective as always. Now, to business. What artifact did you obtain the Great Field?”
The haggling began at that point, and despite his nervousness Sam proved to be as good as Shad had been told-his relentless improvement of his skills paid off. The Talons traded the device they had captured for an iron flask of dragon’s blood and a single faceted gut stone; the rest of the stones and a sealed note with their exit location and cantrip were placed in a wood box the size of a thick paperback book; a touch of Astkar’s hand burned a rune across the box’s lid. It was agreed that the box would open when they completed a specific mission for the Assembly.
Astkar agreed to purchase the coins taken from the Great Field from the Talons so that the sale would not draw attention, and after a careful examination of the unissued weapons they had brought out offered a Traveler’s Chest in trade. The Chest was a chest lid set into a narrow wooden frame; when set on a flat inert surface the lid could be opened to access a space the size of a large trunk; when open the interior looked just like an ordinary truck or chest interior. No matter what was carried within the weight of the Chest did not change.
“You are aware of what your task entails?” Astkar asked when the negotiations were complete.
“Yeah, refresh the seal on the tomb of a Chinese warlord,” Shad nodded. “But I have a couple questions?”
“Proceed.”
“Sam knew about this before he met us. Why risk your secrecy telling him before you had a group ready?”
“Finding outlanders is complicated; those who are easy to find are useless to our purposes, and those who are useful to our purposes are extremely hard to locate. Your Bard closed a gap in our abilities, and he had a great deal more to lose than we did.”
“Which brings up the secrecy issue from another angle: the Council is all about the status quo, so why hide this operation from them?”
“Because the Council wants you for one purpose and one purpose only: to dispose of the intruders. Further, they regard the knowledge of the tomb to be one of their greatest and most valuable secrets. You outlanders understand what Fu Hao is and what she is capable of, but to most bravos or lower-order mages she would simply appear to be a way to obtain wealth.”
“Is that why you’re using outlanders for this job? To maintain that same secret?”
“Exactly,” Astkar’s mouth twitched. “You will conveniently remove yourselves once you complete the mission, leaving absolutely no danger of betrayal.” He laid a sealed stone bottle, a flat leather bag, a disk of etched jade, and a sheaf of parchment onto the table. “Here are your instructions and the tools it requires. The act itself is to polish the seal with a renewing elixir, but getting to the tomb will involve certain challenges. These are copious notes, including information from the outlanders who opened the way.”
“You got their gear from the departure point,” Derek blurted.
“Indeed.” Astkar pursed his lips. “They used the same Chest you now have.”
“Helluva arrangement,” Shad shook his head. “We do your dirty work, and at the end you get everything we have accumulated, less the stones and the blood.”
“Profit is not our primary concern, but as you know every endeavor has its expenses,” Astkar shrugged. “This is another reason for the Council’s irritation with the Assembly: they expend great amounts of power and money to import outlanders, while we gain power and wealth from our assistance to outlanders to depart.”
“I have to say that their program of sending first-level outlanders against the Seven does not seem too practical,” Shad observed.
The mage shrugged again. “Three are dead.”
“Good point. Are there any time constraints on the tomb job?”
“No.”
“Good. Do we need to meet again at any point?”
“No. The information I have provided and the instructions included as part of your final payment will suffice to see you through the mission, and home if you are successful. I have placed the usual fourteen lunar cycl
es upon the box as a matter of course, but I expect you will need nothing so long to accomplish the task.”
“How far away is the tomb?”
“Not far. No doubt the death of the Ultimate Overload was a great relief to the Council-no longer will they be bringing in outlanders to the City-State. It lies too close to too many things they wish left alone.”
“Well, that was interesting,” Jeff said when the Talons were safely back in their room.
“Yeah,” Shad shoved the Chest, secure in its heavy leather case, under the foot of his thin mattress. “Anyone else get a funny feeling from that business?”
“You thinking double-cross?” Derek asked.
“No, not exactly. But I got the feeling that the whole Council-Assembly thing is completely different than just mage rivalry.”
“Yeah, I agree. There’s more going on than we know,” Fred agreed.
“Astkar was up front about recovering our stuff,” Derek pointed out.
“That was just to make us feel like we could trust him,” Jeff shook his head. “We’re pawns on the board.”
“Are we sure this will get us home?” Fred asked Derek.
“Yeah, me and Shad have worked it over with our class knowledge, and Sam has done a ton of independent research,” the Shadowmancer nodded. “Provided Astkar is giving us the real materials, we are home free.”
“And he can’t fake the dragon-blood; my Dwarven smith will know if what he forges isn’t grayscale,” Sam assured the barbarian.
“Actually, its in the Assembly’s interest to deal fair,” Shad mused as he dug out a scrap of parchment and a charcoal pencil. “Helping us leave is a sure way to eliminate our knowledge of the secret. And there’s no point in our passing on the news to other outlanders because once Derek lubes the keyhole there’s no profit in the knowledge. I don’t expect they have to do this sort of thing very often.”
“So what is going on?” Fred asked the room at large.
“Stuff that predates us, and will continue after we’re gone,” Jeff tossed his armor onto his bunk. “I’m going to send for a pitcher of ale.”
“Make it two,” Fred grinned.
“Three,” Shad said absently. “Sam, how long to get the grayscale, the bracers and your belt?”
“Figure five full days, maybe six. But that’s just for you guys-I already have my belly harness.”
“OK. Jeff, pick up the tools you will need to mount the remaining stones. Derek, you study the intel material Astkar gave us. Since we have the chest I think we ought to leave Ula with Margit before we leave. We can check to see how she’s doing, too.”
“So five days’ down time?” Derek thumbed through the papers.
“We’ve got plenty of money with the sale of the Great Field coins, so lets say ten. Last day you can buy what gear and rations we’ll need. Ten days will let me make what I hope will be enough charms to see us through to the end. So whatever sight-seeing and whoring you want to do, get done.”
“I’ll put some of the money we just got into Margit’s account before we leave,” Derek nodded. “We’ve got plenty.”
Seven days into their down time Shad was sitting at the table in the Talon’s room working on a charm. Working in comfort at his higher level meant he had a significant improvement in efficiency over what he had had when they had entered this realm, and he had been able to devote a couple afternoons to taking in the City-State’s sights without cutting into his productivity. He had to admit that there was plenty to see in the ancient city, and he regretted not being able to bring a journal back with him. The sights were not enough to make the entire experience worthwhile, but they were something he hoped he would remember.
He set down the number two pick he had been using and swiftly tied off the knot, He was reaching for the cutter to nip the excess thread when pain shot up his left arm, sending him crashing to the floor.
He had cleaned up the litter of tools and material that had followed him to the floor and was working on another charm when the others burst in. “Did you feel that?” Derek yelled.
“No, I didn’t notice the combined sensation of a heart attack and being branded,” the Jinxman snapped.
“Down to three!” Jeff brandished his bare forearm, flakes of the ‘blood-brother’ dye still clinging to where the tattoo had been.
“They must have used gunpowder because we got the XP,” Fred observed. “Tonight I’m going to level.”
“We all will,” Shad nodded. “Which brings up an interesting point: do we need to visit Mount Doom at all?”
“What?” Sam said. “Double-cross Astkar?”
“Not double-cross, but we’re got fourteen lunar cycles, that’s only fourteen hours of real time back home. We are down to three intruders and apparently the rebel groups are sharing the knowledge about gunpowder. If the other three get iced we go home without taking any more risks. Derek, did you donate that money to Margit?”
“No, I took Ula to her but I was going to wait until we left, dump all but some pocket money for expenses into her account.”
“How long could we live on what we have if we were careful?”
“I dunno, with a budget say six to eight months. More if we found day work and got a long-term rental situation.”
“That’s a thought,” Jeff grinned. “This place isn’t great, but it has some laughs. We could cool our heels for a few months, see if we get lucky. If not, Mount Doom is still sitting there.”
“Each intruder appears to be a level’s worth of XP,” Fred mused. “If even only one drops during the wait it would still improve our chances.”
“Derek, Sam, look around for a rental we can use on the long-term, something furnished. Figure out a budget and pay each of us a weekly stipend, walking-around money. Too bad we already got Margit set up-we could have hired her as a cook until we left. Jeff, Sam, look for low-risk jobs in the City-State we can do. I’m not opposed to rent-a-cop stuff. I’ll keep making charms so if we do have to go, we’ll be ready. Any objections?”
There were none.
Sam’s connections led the Talons to a guard job at a brewery; for the use of a two-room furnished barracks and discount ale the bravos ensured that the brewery remained unmolested. The Bard also set up an arrangement with a nearby inn for their meals at a discount in return for some bouncer service. It was, as bravos go, undignified work, but it was safe. Shad taught Derek to make gunpowder, and Jeff sold bang sticks, powder, and the procedure for its use to groups of bravos interested in the Great Field.
They lived on a deficit of funds but it was a very slow attrition, and the Talons fell into a comfortable routine. Shad continued to make at least one charm per day, Sam practiced his class for intelligence material and a little money, Derek studied what reading material Sam’s contacts could make available, and Jeff and Fred kept their ears peeled in the circles to which their classes allowed them access.
Twenty-one days after their meeting with the Assembly they learned that another of the intruders was nearly killed by a bomb, and they all received a modest bump to the red line of experience.
It was not an unpleasant life, and while it was far short of their old lives, in some ways it was more comfortable than Iraq had been, and the four adjusted. Margit stopped by to visit every few days, and they were pleased to see that she was blooming in her new environment.
On the ninety-sixth day since their arrival Shad and Derek were sitting outside their barracks playing chess, drinking ale, and keeping an eye on the shipments yard. Summer was now at its peak and while it was a good twenty degrees cooler than Texas’ summer, a setting without air conditioning and primitive bathing made being indoors not all that pleasant.
Derek was winning, as usual. “You know, I’m thinking that Mount Doom might be worth the risk to get back to air conditioning,” Shad mopped his forehead. The Talons had their hair cut close to help with the heat, but even though cotton was common here the local cloth was still heavier than machine-woven fabrics. Th
at the city walls cut most breezes did not help at all.
“Yeah, I would kill for an hour with my laptop. I’m sick of life with only live music.”
“Even in Iraq we had MP3 players. The heat is bad enough, but we can’t wait past first frost. The winters here are going to be a lot different than Texas’.”
“Still, I’m not enthused about going after Goblins underground.”
“Neither am I, at least not yet. Another couple weeks and I might be.”
“From what Fred has worked out we’re about at the end of August, so the heat should start to break any day now.”
“True. Still, I had more hopes for the gunpowder.”
“Yeah, but we’re not out any…well, shit.”
The Jinxman looked up from the board to see Yorrian striding purposely through the shipments yard, a frown stamped on her face. “Damn.” When the mage drew close he waved a casual hand that the pitcher wrapped in wet sacking. “Pull up a keg and join us. Ale?”
Yorrian gestured and the temperature of the air dropped ten degrees as the sounds around them faded.
“Ahh, that’s nice,” Shad stretched. “Derek, you need to learn how to do that.”
“Next level.”
“Are you done?” Yorrian snapped, seating herself as imperiously as one could when sitting on an empty twenty-gallon keg.
“Sure. To what do we owe the honor?’
“We brought you here for a reason,” the mage snarled.
“Two down and one pretty badly injured by our methods,” the Jinxman shrugged. “Not bad work in ninety-six days. Especially since we came in at first level with no special gear and very little money.”
“A bargain,” Derek agreed.
“There are three groups of bravos raiding into the Great Field with the powder you created,” Yorrian frowned. “Revenants are dying faster than they are being replaced.”
“Have you met any revenants? They’re horrible,” Shad shrugged. “They’re no loss to anyone, really.”
“That is not the point. There is vast wealth, the arms and armor of several armies, and almost as many enchanted items on that field as are in use in this half of the world. Certainly more of the artifact weapons and devices than are currently in use. The revenants serve as a control, they prevent too much of the Field’s bounty from coming into the world at one time.”