by Thad Ward
“Nowhere,” Ada said, stopping and pointing past Ike. “We’re here.”
Ike looked to the sign Ada was pointing at and read it aloud, “Weir Crest inn and tavern.”
Chapter 14
Audience with the queen
T he old oak door creaked as Ike and Ada entered. The common room of the tavern had seen better days. Some of the chairs were mismatched second-hand replacements. Many of the tables had notches, and some had badly-repaired legs that didn’t sit evenly. The tankards and pitchers hanging over the bar were all faded and mostly chipped. The rugs were threadbare with visible holes. Even the potted plant by the door was drooping.
“Nice place,” Ike commented sarcastically. “Why are we here?”
“It’s cheap,” Ada said point-blank. She didn’t even bother to lower her voice when she said it, which Ike found doubly telling. “We can go somewhere nicer if you want, but here you won’t break the bank on room and board.”
“It’s sort of dead,” Ike noted. He looked around the room and saw a total of six other people in a room that could comfortably house ten times that many. There was a plump, matronly woman behind the bar tending to a pot on a wood stove. A trio of young men sat at a back table, rolling dice and talking quietly. A rotund man was passed out at the bottom of the stairs snoring loudly. And there was a stylish woman preening herself on the edge of a raised platform that must have served as the tavern’s stage. “Not exactly a good sign during the lunch rush.”
Ada pulled out a bar stool, grimaced at a stain on it, then pushed it back and opted for the next one. Ike followed her lead. Ada cleared her throat loudly several times. Even so, it was a solid minute before the woman making stew noticed them.
“Oh, dearie me,” she said, speaking in the sort of Welsh accent Ike always associated with old English grandmothers. She shuffled over to them and wiped her greasy hands on her apron. “I didn’t see you there. Welcome to the Weir Crest. I’m Maisy. What can I get you?”
“Nothing for me. We’d both like rooms for the night, though,” Ada said. “Separate rooms, please,” she added immediately.
“A room for a knight,” Maisy grinned brightly, looking from Ada to Ike as if expecting them to laugh. “Oh, I thought it was clever. One silver knight gets you the room for a night. Six if you pay upfront for the week.”
Ada reached into her pouch and slipped a solid silver coin across the bar. Ike did some mental math before rummaging in his satchel and passing Maisy two silver coins of his own along with a platinum tenth.
“Oh my goodness!” Maisy said, startled at the higher-value coin. “You are most welcome, my lord. But here, you’ve overpaid me.” She slid a silver coin back to Ike. “I’ll just be a moment with your keys,” she said before tottering off hastily into a back room.
“Did I?” Ike asked, picking up the knight and looking at Ada with confusion. “A platinum tenth should go for about four silver knights, right?”
Ada shrugged. “This place doesn’t do well for a reason. I’m not sure if she’ll understand that even if you explain it to her, though.”
“I’ll just give her a nice tip later,” Ike said, stowing the coin. “I wouldn’t feel right taking advantage of her like that.”
“Natural twenty! Eat it!” one of the men playing dice suddenly yelled, leaping from his seat and pumping his fist. Ike and Ada both raised eyebrows at them before turning back to the bar.
“So what are your plans for the rest of the day?” Ada asked. “I need to log out for a few hours to run some errands in the real world.”
“I need to get my gear situation sorted out,” Ike said. “Not the enchantments. Just the basics. Backpack, bedroll, waterskin, armor, weapons, clothes I didn’t steal off a dead man… that sort of thing. I’ll probably pawn off those gems while I’m at it. If I’ve got time after that, I may work on the business venture I have planned. Need me to do anything while you’re out?”
Ada smiled. “If you’re selling gems anyway, mind selling mine for me?” She fished them out of her pouch and handed them to Ike. “I’m no good at haggling and that’s all the NPCs here ever do.”
Ike nodded, adding the gems to his stash. “I don’t have a lot of experience, but I’ll do my best.”
Maisy returned and passed two keys across the bar. “Ma’am, your room is at the top of the stairs on the left. Milord, your room is upstairs at the end of the hall. Now, what else can I get you?”
“What’s good here?” Ike asked, having no idea what to order.
Ada abruptly turned away from the two of them, letting out a feigned cough. “Sorry. Something in my throat. I’ll see you later, Ike.” As she retreated up the stairs, hopping lightly over the sleeping drunk, Ike could see her shoulders shaking from barely suppressed laughter.
Maisy didn’t seem to notice. “Well, master Ike, most folk who come in here drink the ale. Angus over there swears by it.” She gestured to the man at the bottom of the stairs. “Though I may have a bottle of wine or two in the back if that’s more to your liking.” Maisy dipped her head low as if she were addressing nobility.
“Why don’t you go dust off that wine, Maisy darling?” came a voice with a slight Southern drawl. He turned to see the woman from the stage standing beside him. He focused his attention to pull up the newcomer’s character window as Maisy tottered off.
Dusty turned the barstool next to Ike’s backward and sat with her arms draped over the bar. She wore a form-fitting dress covered in purple sequins with matching gloves long enough to reach her elbows. Her billowing blond hair hung in loose curls down to the middle of her back. Only the tips of her long elven ears peeked out from beneath it. Her makeup was flawless and perfectly complemented her rich ebony skin. She gave Ike an interested look and said, “Trust me, you don’t want the ale here.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Ike said with a nod. “You come here often?” Ike regretted it almost as soon as he said it. It sounded like a corny pick-up line, but he had never been very good at small talk.
“Ever since I got this quest,” Dusty said. She traced a long, cream-colored fingernail along the edge of the bar in front of Ike. “I need to perform in front of a full house. Give the old place some mouth to mouth.”
Ike felt his face flush a little. “Is that what a glamorist does? Perform?”
Dusty looked Ike square in the eyes. “It’s rude to peak at a girl’s unmentionables, you know.” Her tone was provocative with only a shade of fake indignation. “But yes. It’s a mage class specializing in color and light.” Dusty traced her hand down the front of her body. As it passed over her dress, the purple sequins blazed into a pattern of brilliant scarlet and orange stripes.
Ike raised his eyebrows as his eyes followed the movement. Maisy returned and slid two dirty glasses of wine across the bar. “That’s a neat trick,” Ike said as he reached for his glass. “What sort of performances do you do?” He raised the glass to his lips.
“Drag shows,” Dusty said, casting a coy look at Ike over her shoulder.
Ike choked on his wine, sputtering and coughing.
“Oh no,” Maisy said, concerned. “Is the wine not to your liking, master Ike?”
Ike was still coughing too hard to answer. “He’s just fine, Maisy dear,” Dusty said. She leaned her head back and cackled mischievously, sticking one silky smooth leg in the air as she did.
“Sorry,” Ike wheezed. His throat was still burning. “It’s just... I thought…”
“No cause for concern. Ike, was it?” Dusty said, still grinning. “I get that a lot. All part of the trade.” She winked. “Can’t say I don’t love it, though.”
Ike took a deep breath, clearing his throat. “Well, Dusty, I think you’re going to have a hard time completing your quest,” he said, looking around at the mostly empty room. One of the young men at the table seemed to be regaling the other two with a detailed description of a dragon. “I get the sense the patrons here choose it for privacy.”
“Or to drink t
he worst ale in Weir,” Dusty said with a heavy sigh. “But momma didn’t raise no quitter. I’ll figure something out.”
Ike sipped his wine. It had a sharply sour, almost vinegar-like undertone. He screwed up his nose and put it back down immediately. “The wine’s not any better, but thanks for trying.”
Dusty turned the barstool in the proper direction and sat with a hand under her chin, apparently abandoning her pretenses of dalliance. “So what’s your story?” she asked conversationally. “Or do you just enjoy the albino look?”
Ike gave her the quick rundown of his race, what little he knew of it, followed by a brief explanation of his class and the enchantments he could do. “Sorry about using Identification earlier,” he added. “It’s easy to forget a lot of people don’t have it. It’s pretty handy since I’m usually terrible with names.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Dusty said. “I’ve got a skill called Aura Sight. I could tell all sorts of things about you, too. Just not game stats.” Dusty sniffed at her glass of wine and set it back down without bothering to sip.
That piqued Ike’s interest. “Oh? What does my aura look like?”
Dusty leaned over a little, looking Ike up and down. “Sort of dark gray with a hint of blue. Like a storm cloud at dusk.”
“And that tells you… what?” Ike asked.
“Well, it takes experience reading people, and I’m not always right,” Dusty said. “If I had to guess, though, I’d say you’re a bit of a metronome. Consistent, steady, maybe a bit of a stickler for the rules. Cautious. Honest almost to a fault. You like to plan and hate being late or lost. How am I doing so far?”
Ike blinked. “Um, that’s so spot on it’s almost creepy. You got all that from my aura being a shade of gray?”
Dusty laughed. “No. I’m good at reading people in real life. Auras just give me an extra bit of information to go on. The game’s a good judge of character, though. You? You’d be a terrible date. Good husband material, though.”
Ike rubbed his eyes and laughed. “Thanks. You can stop now.” He took a deep breath and had an idea. “Hey, what would you say if I offered to help you with your quest?”
“I’m all ears,” Dusty said. She wiggled the tips of her ears. They looked like miniature shark fins swimming through her hair. She laughed and patted Ike’s shoulder. “A little elf humor. But seriously, I’m interested. What do you have in mind?”
Ike pulled the songbird statuette out of his satchel and commanded it to activate. “I don’t know anything about putting on a show, but I picked this little guy up in a dungeon.” The bird fluttered over to Dusty’s shoulder and fanned out its tail feathers.
“Fabulous,” Dusty said, letting it walk out on her gloved arm. “You want me to use it in my act?”
“You can if you want,” Ike said, “but I was actually thinking of using it before the show to get the word out.”
“Come one, come all, to the Weir Crest inn and tavern! The one and only Dusty Knees, live, tonight!” the bird belted out. There was a sense of musicality to the way it spoke, and the volume this close was deafening. One of the young men went chasing after dice he’d spilled on the floor in surprise. The man by the stairs sat up in alarm, looked around woozily, then lay back down. Maisy, oddly, didn’t seem to notice.
Dusty winced and shook her head. “I see what you mean,” she said. “We’ll need to work on that pitch, but it could work. What do you want in return? I know I look glamorous, but I don’t have much money to offer. This shit’s expensive.”
Ike shrugged. “I’m not sure yet. I know you said I’d be a terrible date, but I’ve got someone I’d like to take out. I thought maybe she’d enjoy a drag show, but it wouldn’t be as much fun if it’s a private showing. Call it a gift?”
“That pretty thing that ran upstairs a few minutes ago, hm?” Dusty said knowingly. She gave Ike a long look and an endearing smile. “Okay, hun. That sounds nice. I’ll make sure you two get front row seats.”
Ike rose from his stool. “Thanks, Dusty. I’ll be back in a bit.” He left the silver knight Maisy had mistakenly returned to him on the bar and told her, “Dusty’s drink is on me,” before heading out.
Chapter 15
Vending loot
I ke walked back through the crowded streets like a man on a mission, a whole list of priorities buzzing through his head. His first idea, oddly enough, was to check in at Fu Chur’s market stall. He arrived to see several patrons, all dressed and behaving like players, placing orders, so he opted to wait patiently.
“Fu, got a sec?” he said after the rush died down.
“Ike,” Fu said, beaming a friendly grin over his shoulder as he chopped ingredients. “Back so soon? I know my cooking’s irresistible, but you work up an appetite fast.”
Ike nodded in agreement. “Oh, it’s marvelous, but I wanted to confirm a hunch. Do you have a skill to appraise item values?”
Fu took on a neutral expression and looked up from his work. “Maybe. What makes you think that?”
Ike put his elbows on the counter and leaned closer, lowering his voice. “It was just a pattern I noticed. It seems like everyone gets an informational ability at level one. For me, I can identify items, monsters, and other characters. It lets me see their names and stats.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of Identification,” Fu said. “I’m jealous. In my line of work, knowing someone’s name without them saying would be very handy.”
Ike nodded. “It is at that. Anyway, Ada’s got a skill that lets her see tracks, traps, and other hidden things. And I just met someone who can see auras. All three match the intended role of the class pretty well.”
“So you figured two is a coincidence but three is a pattern,” Fu finished the thought. He leaned close and lowered his voice as well. “That is a useful piece of information, so I’ll pay you back for it. Yes, I have Appraisal. It lets me see the value of most common items. It’s a nice edge when haggling since it’s the most an NPC will pay for an item. Players are a crapshoot, but I can buy low and sell high to turn a profit with NPCs. It’s how I managed to set up shop so quickly.”
“I have a proposition for you, then,” Ike said. “I was going to offer to pay you for training, but what do you say to an even trade? I’ll teach you Identification and you can teach me Appraisal. Mine’s not restricted and I’m guessing Appraisal isn’t, either.”
Fu stroked his catfish whiskers and nodded. “You present an interesting opportunity. I’m nearly out of ingredients for the day. How do you feel about waiting around for a few more minutes? Once I sell out, I’ll close up shop and we can train together.”
Ike offered Fu a hand and the two shook on it. “Done deal. I’ll be around the market when you’re ready.”
Ike passed the time browsing the wares on display. He took note of things he wanted to buy after learning the skill and overheard the haggling process. It seemed pretty straightforward. The people who got the best deals made offers rather than asking prices first, but the offer had to be in the ballpark for the merchant to take the person seriously.
Fu approached Ike a few minutes later and addressed him with a slight bow. “Thank you for waiting. How shall we begin, Ike-sensei?”
Ike smirked as Fu dropped the Japanese honorific for teachers. He considered for a moment. “I received Healing Arts from an NPC who trained me. All it took was guided instruction. How about we take turns, quid pro quo style? I’ll go first.” Ike looked around the market square and pointed at an evident adventurer. “Do you see that guy? The one with the scimitars? Try focusing on him. His appearance, voice, gear, the way he moves, that sort of thing. Tell me what you can figure out.”
Fu concentrated for a long moment. “He has black hair. He’s wearing armor. I think I hear a New York accent.”
Ike raised a finger. “Notice the details. He has a scar on his chin, a sign he’s been in a fight before. The armor itself is leather, on the lighter side, but he has a muscular build, so he could probably eq
uip something heavier. Maybe he doesn’t have the money, or maybe he’s the fast, roguish type. And look at the way he stands, feet set apart. He’s ready to defend from any angle.”
Fu looked again. “I see. He’s probably some sort of fighter or rogue, then, and probably not level one like me.”
“Now you’re getting it,” Ike said. “Identification is all about gauging abilities without seeing them in action, so you have to look for little hints.”
Fu nodded. “Okay, my turn. Lesson one,” he said, gesturing broadly at the market square, “don’t buy anything here.”
Ike frowned. “Why not? It seems like the best place to find things.”
Fu shook his head. “You’ll find a lot here, but you’ll get ripped off. Supply and demand. The NPCs here can afford to turn you down because they have so many other potential customers. The best deals are off the beaten path. Luckily for you, I already know a few good spots.”
The two walked away from the market and down the main thoroughfare heading east. As they walked, Ike repeated the exercise with Fu, pleased that the imugi was able to discern one or two additional details about the target this time around.
There were signs for shops selling all manner of services and wares, but Fu veered onto a side street and into a shop tucked away from the crowd. A sign on the door read, “Twig’s Collection.” As they entered, a bell tinkled above the door.
The shop was small, cramped, and lined with shelves filled with items that ranged from odd to alarming. Ike saw glass baubles, ceramic charms, jars with embalmed monster parts, skeletons of small animals, a mummified head, a tea kettle filled with squid-like tentacles, and a book written in an alien-looking language. The shopkeeper appeared to be out at the moment. “Quite a collection,” Ike commented, unable to keep his eyes from wandering.
“Lesson two,” Fu said. “Values change by the area. Take this for example.” Fu reached into a pouch and produced several small wishbones. “These are worthless elsewhere, but their value goes up when I walk in here. Why do you think that is?”