by Hugo Huesca
“Walk it off, you big crybaby,” Kes told him. “She-elves go through much worse during childbirth. Small hips, you know?”
“Just kill me already,” Shaggy said. He coughed, winced, then reconsidered his choice of words. “Actually, please don’t kill me. I’m with the Guild. I had no idea Brondan had a score to settle with you.”
“What do we do?” Kes asked Ed.
Ed realized that he held the lives of three human beings in his hands. During the heat of the battle, he had been certain that he could murder whoever threatened him or his friends without a second thought. But now, tired, wet, and hurting all over, the mere thought of killing Shaggy made him want to puke.
He could be a shit of a person, a part of his brain reminded him. A murderer, rapist, and so on. You don’t know whether by letting him live you’re condemning someone else to die. Hell, he could kick puppies in his spare time.
But Ed did not know. The only thing he knew was that he was relatively unhurt, his friends were alive, and that Shaggy’s friends needed medical attention as soon as possible. In fact, he caught Shaggy’s worried glance at Scar—she was bleeding profusely.
That sealed it for Ed. “Disarm them,” he told Kes. He stumbled his way to Shaggy. “Can you stand?”
“In theory,” Shaggy said. “I don’t think your bodyguard broke my legs. It just hurts to breathe, and move, and talk, is all.”
Ed kicked away Shaggy’s weapons, then patted him down to take away all his knives and hidden blades.
“Those are Guild property,” said Shaggy. “Stealing from the Thieves Guild is frowned upon.”
“Isn’t that ironic,” Ed said. Alder cut Shaggy’s belt with his own knife and handed it to Ed. Upon quick examination, he discovered its pouches were filled with interesting Thief stuff. Ed pocketed it. “Tell you what, add it to Brondan’s tab.”
“Did you just loot me?” Shaggy asked, and groaned. “I’m not even dead.”
“I’m also taking your cape,” Ed told the Thief.
“Why?”
“It looks cool.” He would’ve taken Shaggy’s boots, too, but that would’ve cost the Thief his feet, walking barefooted in the cold. Same with the jacket.
Shaggy groaned again and closed his eyes.
Soon enough, Kes and Alder had disarmed the lot of them. While they worked, Ed had whispered brief instructions to the spiderlings inside his shirt. By some miracle, the two of them were still alive after all the rolling around, but they weren’t exactly in a good mood. He realized one of them had bitten him under the nipple during all the commotion, and part of his sorry state was thanks to the paralyzing agent of the spiderling’s bite.
“We have to hurry, Ed,” Kes told him. She was carrying two belts in addition to her own and seemed very pleased with herself. The reward in loot had been much better than the reward in experience points. “The Watch will be here at any moment.”
“But you said they were never around when you needed them,” said Alder.
“My point exactly.”
Together with Ed, they brought Mage and Scar next to Shaggy, who had managed to sit. He touched the spot on his leather armor where Kes had struck him. The armor had protected him from being cut and saved his life, yet the impact still had broken at least two ribs.
“Can you walk?” asked Ed. He frowned and scratched his chin. If Shaggy couldn’t bring Scar to a healer quick enough…
“Gonna need some good stuff for that,” Shaggy said. “Would you mind sparing the healing potion in the belt you just looted from me?” He flashed Ed an eager smile full of yellowed teeth.
Ed rummaged through the pouches and found two copper vials, their tops sealed with a thick brown plaster.
“Healing potions are worth about ten vyfaras at the very minimum,” Alder told him. “We could sell each for eight.”
Sixteen vyfaras could buy a horse…
“Oh, c’mon,” said Shaggy.
Ed shook his head, broke the paste, and slid the vial’s contents into Shaggy’s mouth. The Thief drank eagerly, and he didn’t notice when one of Ed’s spiderlings ran across Ed’s arm and inside the Thief’s armor. No one but Ed noticed it.
The sickening hollowness in the side of Shaggy’s chest slowly filled itself a bit. Color returned to the man’s cheeks, and he exhaled with satisfaction. “Oh, yes. I think part of my rib was rubbing against my lung.” He stood up without help, although he wasn’t close to being fully healed. “Much better now.”
As Shaggy recovered, Alder strutted over to Mage and quietly took off the man’s boots, which were much better than his own. The movement roused Mage back to consciousness.
“What are you doing?” he muttered. “Those are mine, I need them.”
“You almost killed me,” said Alder. He tried on the new boots, made sure they fit, and tossed the other spellcaster his old ones.
“I almost killed you? You almost killed me!” there was a low whistle coming through the man’s broken teeth every time he spoke. “These boots are all wet, I’m going to lose so many fingers!”
“Yeah, well, screw you,” Alder told him. “That’s not my problem. Buy resist environment if you care that much; I can see you have the spare experience.”
“I was saving those points to buy more spells!”
Alder shrugged and left with his new boots. He had a gray look about his normally cheery face, and Ed decided to get the Bard something to drink as soon as they reached safety. Perhaps some soup.
While the Bard tested his new boots, Ed gave the other potion to Scar. It roused her back into consciousness, but she was still stunned and, judging from the way her eyes wandered, she had no idea where she was or what had happened. Mage passed a hand around her shoulder and Shaggy did the same thing at her other side.
The two Thieves and the mercenary Mage stumbled their way out of the causeway, followed closely by Ed and his friends, who were now armed with all their knives.
Shaggy fumbled back, careful not to make any sudden movements. “Thanks for letting us go. It was honorable of you. I’d like to say I’d have done the same thing in your place…” he trailed off and gave Ed a rueful smile.
“Just get out of my sight,” Ed told him. “And hurry over to a healer.”
“We’ll tell the Guild that we lost our gear playing cards,” Shaggy went on. “So don’t worry about them coming for you. About whatever spat you’ve with Brondan, after tonight… well, you do what you have to do. I’ll convince the Guild to get him expelled, at the very least.”
Ed had no way of knowing if the Thief was telling the truth or merely trying to get on his good side. So he said nothing, but nodded in acknowledgment. Shaggy nodded back. Besides him, Scar groaned, and the Thief hurried up.
“Before I leave, though,” he quickly rambled on. He looked at Kes with a raised eyebrow and an inviting grin. “Are you single? Because I’d love to buy you a drink—”
“Sorry, I’m not looking,” she said immediately, amusement hiding behind her stern expression.
Shaggy nodded. “Had to ask. Anyway, we owe you one. Ask the beggars around the Galleon’s Folly for Karmich the Handsome; give them a coin or two. I’ll find you.” This time, Karmich’s group left for real.
Ed was sure he wouldn’t need to ask that guy for a favor ever, but he memorized the name, regardless.
Karmich. Sounds like Kermit. A green puppet frog, fighting Kes in the middle of a storm, then asking her out. That was a mental image he wasn’t likely to forget.
“The Handsome?” asked Scar in the distance, her speech slurring as if she was drunk. “No one calls you that.”
“Marketing,” came the faint answer.
ED and his friends were now alone, battered, and wet. At least color was slowly coming back to Alder.
“Wetlands, Ed, I’ve never fought like that before,” he said. “Not people, at least. I really thought I was a goner.”
“The first time is the most painful,” said Kes. She patted Alder on the b
ack, hard enough to make him take a step forward to avoid falling over. “You did well. I’m proud of you. And you gained more experience points than us. Fifteen points, right? Not bad for your first bout. What will you do with them?”
Alder considered this with the distant look Ed had come to identify as an Ivalian staring at his invisible character sheet.
“I’ve just enough to buy my normal spellcasting talent,” Alder mused. “If I compose a new utterance, I’ll have as many spells as Lavy, I think.”
“More magic?” Kes asked. She shook her head. “All kids are the same, I swear. No love for a good power strike.”
“Magic is useful for more than caving in ribcages.”
The three of them slowly made their way toward the Galleon’s Folly, or at least to the general direction of the port, according to Kes.
I’ll have to thank her for her training,” Ed thought. He didn’t need to see his stat sheet to know his Endurance had finally risen up a rank. By the feeling of it, his Brawn had gone up too. Nothing like risking his life in exchange for a couple experience points to tone up the body.
Now, however, he’d gladly fight the entire Guild in exchange for a good night’s sleep.
“I thought you were going to kill her,” Kes told Ed. She was serious now. “You had that look in your eye. I’ve seen it before. A soldier standing above a defeated foe, spear in hand, bloodlust in the eyes—”
“How could you tell?” Ed asked. He diverted the question, because he still wasn’t sure of his own actions yet. “You were busy fighting Shaggy—I mean, Kermit. Karmich.”
“Peripheral vision,” she said. “Avian eyesight, plus years of experience.” She looked back, and Ed followed her gaze. Alder had fallen a bit behind. Since the Bard had the lowest Endurance of the three, his entire mental effort was focused on successfully taking step after step. He wasn’t listening to them. “Well? What happened there?”
“I almost did. Killed her, I mean,” Ed said. “I sure as hell wanted to.” He refused to make eye contact with Kes.
“They probably would’ve killed us if the tables had been turned,” Kes said. “There’s no shame in killing to protect your own life, or that of your friends. And they attacked us first.”
Ed recalled Mage’s bewildered face as he shouted at Alder. You almost killed me, he had said.
“She was defeated,” Ed said. “After a hit like that, she posed no threat to me. If I had gone for the killing blow… Maybe it would’ve been justified. Certainly, here in Ivalis, it would’ve been.” He tapped his chest. “But... when Kharon made his bargain, he was sure that power would go to my head. Back then, I was sure that the only thing needed to beat him was to make an effort to be a good man.” He closed his fist, remembering the sensation of the sword’s pommel striking Scar’s skull. How easy it had come to him, a hit like that. Kes hadn’t taught him that, it had been entirely instinctual. Had that potential for violence been there with him before coming to Ivalis? He wanted to say no, but the same day that he met Kharon was the day he had smashed Ryan’s head against a desk. Violence was a part of him. It was undeniable. He couldn’t get rid of it because he needed that violence to survive. It had saved his life tonight. But he couldn’t allow himself to be controlled by it.
Every fight would be a test. Every death, no matter how justified, was another chance to lose himself to that red rage.
“Now I understand Kharon’s certainty,” he went on. “Being good isn’t as simple as making one easy choice one day of your life and leaving it at that. Killing Scar might not have been evil. Not good, either. But what about the next Scar? And if I solve all my problems by bashing their heads in, very soon all heads will start looking like problems.”
He didn’t meet Kes’ gaze. For a while, the only sound heard around them was Alder’s new boots against the wet cobblestone.
“So where does that leave us?” asked Kes. “Even if we let all the Karmichs and Scars live, what of the Amphirises and the Ioans? We are sure to meet more of those. Imagine we kill them all. What will all those deaths make of us?”
For a brief moment, the clouds that covered the moon parted. It’s true that it’s bigger than Earth’s, Ed thought. It was full, and he could see the craters that marred its surface with enough detail that he could’ve made an accurate map right then and there had he access to parchment and ink. The moonlight made the snowflakes shine like specks of silver falling all around him. But it also made his hands appear stained with black ink. How strange. Upon closer inspection, he realized his fingers were marred with Scar’s blood.
“I don’t know,” he said.
You have earned 15 experience points. (Defeating 3 trained Thieves, 1 hireling Mage, non-lethal encounter, no deaths from your party) Your unused experience points are 85 and your total is 348.
Your Attributes have increased: Endurance +1.
Your skills have increased: Melee +1, Leadership +1, Combat Casting +1, Spellcasting +1.
The Galleon Folly’s usual clientele cared little for the snowfall outside. It made the normally rough interior comfortable by comparison, and the watered-down beer tasted downright godly when it was chilled.
Maybe the snow would present a problem for the return home, since it would take a while before the neighbors organized themselves to take care of the snow on the streets. An inebriated fellow risked losing a finger or two—maybe even the tip of his nose—if they weren’t careful.
Of course, the Folly’s usual clientele solved this problem by not going home in the first place. The rooms on the top floor, normally reserved for sailors, were brimming with locals tonight.
“Locals” meant a very different thing, depending on which part of Undercity a tavern was located. For the Round Moon Inn, found in the walled gardens of Mullecias Heights, it meant constables, servants of the local nobility, master blacksmiths, and similar well-bred folk.
For the Folly, “locals” meant that every one of the two dozen men, women, and humanoids still downing ale in the middle of the night had their stat sheets hidden via magical trinket or sheer Mind discipline. Few of them weren’t directly or indirectly related to the array of illegal activities that plagued Undercity: Thieves, fences, spies, minor politicians, local priests, corrupt watchmen, and a group of sailors that sat very drunk in a corner table, too intoxicated to do anything about the bored-looking whores sitting in their laps. With a high enough Perception, one might see one of the whores quietly cut the purse out of her sailor’s belt and pocket all the coins that flowed out, like blood from an open vein.
When the doors opened and three foreigners entered the tavern, at first no one gave them a second glance. The Folly, being near the docks, was used to strange and mysterious persons arriving at the tavern and sitting in a corner facing the doors.
There was an avian mercenary, which was novelty enough, but this one had lost her wings at some point, so she may have been a normal elf, and elves weren’t a strange sight in Undercity.
There was a Heiligian Bard, young and maybe good-looking when his straw-colored hair wasn’t covering his eyes. He was obviously a spy for the Empire, but so were three other locals, and as long as they paid their tabs on time, no one cared. Wasn’t their problem.
The last man was tall and gaunt, with hands covered in badly washed blood—nothing unusual. Normal stats and experience, but most of his talents and spells were hidden. It was obvious enough because he was well on his way to four hundred experience points and only showing improved reflexes on his sheet. The only way reflexes would’ve cost three hundred points or so was if the man had been paralyzed from the waist down, and he walked without magical assistance. So he was an adventurer, and the other two were his retinue.
Adventurers meant money in Undercity, so the group earned a couple curious glances as they chose where to sit. The crippled mercenary glanced sadly at the corner tables—all taken—and ended up going for one far from the door and windows. They ordered the cheapest ale on tap, and the cheapest
meals on the menu, which ended most of the glances in their direction.
But a fence recognized the Bard’s boots. Standard-issue of the Guild. And the avian carried a Guild belt around her cape, very well hidden, but it showed for a second or two as she fixed her seat to stare at the tavern’s entrance.
The news spread around the tavern like wildfire, but in whispers. The only ones unaware were the adventurers, who were busy downing their beans and ale.
Someone recognized the cape on the gaunt man’s shoulders. There was no mistaking that shade of green and the faint magical enchantment sewed with silver around the seams. It was Karmich’s cape.
It took a special kind of adventurer to get into an evening bout with Guild members and have the gall to loot them. They were either reckless, or powerful enough not to fear the Guild. Which was it?
When the adventurers headed upstairs to their room—again, the cheapest one—the locals’ curiosity burned like a raging fire. Perhaps the adventurers had a magical ring, or a Named Sword. Whatever the case, two Guild members left the tavern at that point and headed outside to inform their Guildmates of Karmich’s demise and possibly plan retaliation.
Two Thieves, unaligned with the Guild, finished their ale and headed upstairs. They wanted to take a better look at the strangers. Meaning, a better look at their belongings.
It wasn’t hard to find which room belonged to the adventurers. It had a Guild throwing knife stabbing the wood, right in the center of the door where it couldn’t be missed. The knife kept a small parchment in place, which was scrawled with text.
One of the thieves knew how to read. It took her about a minute to derive the meaning from the simple line of text. She returned the parchment to its place and stabbed it again with the knife.
“We are not in the mood,” she read to her partner. “So we’re fucking warning you.”
They left the adventurers’ room alone.
NEXT MORNING, when Ed and his friends went down to have breakfast, no one gave them a second glance. There was a table by a corner available, which pleased Kes to no end, so they ate there. Today’s menu involved boiled beans, moldy bread, and a fist-sized ball of cheese. All courtesy of Karmich’s moneybag.