by Hugo Huesca
Ed shrugged, heart pounding in his chest, his toes curling inside his shoes. He saw Katalyn wink at him, like she had never doubted he’d manage the bluff. Ed hadn’t been so sure, himself.
It was the hidden talents that did the trick. Show a man a dark room, let him see the glint of a knife in a corner, and he’ll fill the rest with far worse.
“Let me say,” Oscor went on as his laughter died down, “I’m sure we could take you. Probably. But you’ve got the right attitude to have in this business. Either you’ll make it out alive, or you’ll get killed in some alleyway before earning the attention of the other Guilds. Both options work well for me and my friends.” He snapped his fingers. “Mathis! Bring our friend Katalyn the money she asked for. It seems she’s back in our good graces.”
Katalyn stood up and patted her legs to regain circulation. As Mathis left the room, he gave her a sour look. The dwarf that Ed had counted as twenty points, on the other hand, flashed her a grin.
“What did I tell you?” Katalyn told Ed. “Undercity is so exciting!”
Your attributes have increased: Charm +1.
18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE CALL OF ADVENTURE
The four sacks of money made a dull sound as they hit the table. The Galleon’s Folly was filled with the usual clients, but this time they had helpfully left a corner table open for Ed’s group, which made Kes’ night as much as the coin.
The return trip had been much faster, since they left the barrels and the cart with Oscor’s group. In fact, on the way back, they had stopped to make a couple shopping stops to get some much-needed equipment.
In a backpack next to Ed’s chair was a bag with half a kilo of silver dust, courtesy of the local jeweler. It had cost exactly twenty-two vyfaras, but the trade had to be done under the table.
Ed had learned that vyfaras, being Lotian currency, were illegal to use in Undercity. The official coin was the aureus, which was the coin of Heiliges, but only good-standing citizens and merchants used it. The Treasury Diviners had spells which worked better on aureus than on vyfaras, because the Lotians added a degree of magical protection against Heiligian scrying—for obvious reasons. Thus, the vyfara was the coin of the Thief and the criminal.
And, as of tonight, it was the official coin of the Haunt.
“How much did we make?” Kes asked. She stole a glance around, to ensure the rest of the tavern was minding their own business.
“The dwarves bought each barrel for forty vyfaras,” Ed said happily.
Along with the silver, they had bought thick, furred coats for the three of them, and another one for Lavy, as well as a new pair of boots for Ed and a new flute for Alder, which he now carried slung like a sword across his back. All cost fifteen vyfaras, leaving them with a hundred twenty-three left.
“So we have like… a hundred and… um, fifty left?” Alder asked with a smile from ear to ear. “We’re basically rich now.”
“Not exactly,” Ed said. This was the hardest part of the operation. He grabbed one of the bags and set it aside. “Katalyn’s fee is five vyfaras for each barrel…” He handed twenty coins to Katalyn. “Our cost per barrel is four and a half coins…” He set aside eighteen coins. “We need sixty to pay for the kaftar’s monthly fee…” He set aside sixty coins.
Alder paled, staring at the small group of coins that remained. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”
“Sadly, no,” Ed said. He took another fifteen vyfaras away, leaving only ten. “These are so we make more barrels next time. This leaves us with… three coins for each of us, and we still owe everyone else back in the Haunt their wages.” Technically he should have saved those ten vyfaras, but he suspected that Alder wouldn’t survive that disappointment.
“No,” whispered Alder. “This can’t be true.” He stared at his three pink coins. “Tell me it isn’t true, Kes.”
“Sorry,” Kes said. “At least you’re getting something this trip. I imagine Lavy isn’t going to be happy she missed out.”
Katalyn chuckled as she pocketed her money. “It isn’t so bad,” she reassured the Bard. “Next time you’ll bring twice as many barrels. And after that… well, by then you’ll probably have the Brewers Guild on your ass… but with Oscor and me helping you out, you’ll probably be fine.”
“Easy for you to say,” Alder said, eying her bulging purse. “And I’m not so sure about trusting your definition of fine, after you almost got me killed back there!”
“It was all under control,” Katalyn said nonchalantly. “Oscor’s a softy. You saw all those junkies he helps out. Not really a cold-hearted killer, right?”
“Looked enough like a killer to me,” said Alder. “If it hadn’t been for Ed’s bluff…” he trailed off, shuddering.
“What bluff?” asked Katalyn. “You know what his real profession is. A tad more dangerous than an adventurer, wouldn’t you say?”
“It was enough of a bluff that it raised his Charm by a point!” Alder exclaimed.
Ed chuckled. “To be fair, that rank increase was long overdue,” he said. “I’ve been using Charm to deal with the Haunt’s issues for a while now.”
“Be that as it may…” Alder crossed his arms around his chest and shook his head. “Ah, forget it. I’m sure I can get a good poem out of this adventure. Maybe a drinking song, even. I’ll have to take a few artistic liberties…”
“Now that’s the spirit,” Ed said.
Kes grabbed her ale mug and filled it from the jar in the middle of the table. Then she raised it in Ed’s direction. “A toast,” she said. “I owe you one, remember?”
“That’s right,” said Ed. He raised his own mug in Kes’ direction.
Katalyn and Alder did the same.
“To what should we toast?” Alder asked.
“Oh, I know,” said Kes. “To the Haunt. May it prosper long, and us with it.”
Yes, Ed thought. May we.
“To the Haunt!”
KES BARKED a laugh as her hand slapped the table over and over. A reddish glow had spread across her face, and there was a puddle of spilled drink on her side of the table. “The uniform is completely ruined, of course, but Oliana refuses to fill out the form to replace it—”
“Oh, no.” Alder snorted and wiped away a small tear of laughter with his finger.
“Oh, yes,” Kes said. “The Sergeant arrives like… two hours later, and Oliana is wearing Private Axandra’s fatigues… but Axandra’s twice her height, right? She looks ridiculous, like a little girl wearing her mother’s dress.” Kes snorted fondly and almost choked on her drink. “So we’re standing in line for inspection, and Oliana’s just there, hungover out of her mind, trying her best to look normal… the Sergeant hasn’t slept for about two days at this point, and almost passes her by—” Kes did a double take, in perfect imitation of her old Sergeant “—but then turns around, eyes wide, and says—”
Alder started roaring with laughter at this point.
“She says,” Kes went on, tears in her eyes, “’Gods-damn-you, Axandra, you really raided the potions locker?! I was only joking!’”
Ed and Katalyn chuckled while Alder smacked the table with both hands, bent over like he was suffering from stomach pains.
“Oh, gods,” he said between breaths. “The Sergeant mistook Oliana for…” He sniffed, cleaned his chin with his sleeve, and hiccupped.
“Classic case of Charm failure,” Katalyn said. She was sprawled over her chair, like a cat, using her cape as a blanket.
Ed sighed fondly and stared at the small cluster of empty jars accumulating in the center of the table. “We’ve probably had enough,” he told Katalyn. Alder and Kes’ conversation had devolved into guttural laughter and the kind of references that only made sense if heard from the bottom of a glass.
He could see the faint outline of the moon past the frosted window. When did it get so late?
“Perhaps.” Katalyn stifled a yawn and batted her eyelashes in a way that Ed found hyp
notic. “I admit I feel a bit tired.” She gave Kes a meaningful look.
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Alder. One of his eyes was half-closed. “It’s far too early for that. We’re celebrating, damn it!”
Ed gave Kes another meaningful look.
The mercenary rolled her eyes, smirked, and patted Alder on the back. “C’mon, friend Bard, these two clearly lack our Endurance. I say we take the fight to the enemy lines.” She gestured in the direction of the taverns and whorehouses across the street, whose lights shone like stars through the windows.
“But…” Alder’s nose scrunched in confusion. “They’ve barely touched their drinks!”
Ed gave him the best innocent stare that his Charm ranks could afford. Alder glanced at him and Katalyn with suspicion, which was replaced by a dawning realization, and then disappointment. He shook his head sadly.
“Maybe I don’t feel like partying anymore,” he said, then crossed his arms.
Kes received another two meaningful looks. The hints of a mocking smile flared on her lips, but the mercenary put on a serious, business-like expression, and slipped an arm across Alder’s shoulders. “Are you really going to reject the call of adventure, Alder?”
Alder glanced at her with a dubious frown. “Um—”
“Imagine the chances for song-worthy deeds that await us just a short walk down the street!” Kes said. She stood up, and the Bard did the same at her urging. “Tell me, have you ever partied with a Volantian before?”
Alder shook his head.
“Then you’ve a golden opportunity that any Bard would kill for,” Kes said smoothly. “Trust me, I know places in this city that not even the local Thieves dare tread. Think of the songs, Alder! Think of the adventure!”
Damn, Ed thought. She’s good at this.
At first, the idea seemed to please Alder. Kes ushered him away from the table and toward the exit as he mulled over her words. Then he muttered something that Ed couldn’t hear very well, but which sounded something like, “What do you mean a place that Thieves don’t dare tread—” but by then Kes had him halfway through the door.
Alder threw Ed one last glance, this one demanding rescue. Ed gave him an ashamed shrug that had the same meaning across Ivalis and Earth, and probably the rest of the multiverse. It meant: “Sorry, man, but you would do the same in my place.” The last thing he saw from the Bard, for the night, was his middle finger.
Katalyn watched with an amused glint in her eye as the Bard and the mercenary disappeared through the doors.
“So,” Ed said. “Are you still feeling a bit tired?”
She played with a strand of her hair and flicked it away from her forehead. “What a strange thing, I’m suddenly reinvigorated.” She examined her mug. “Maybe someone spilled a vitality potion inside this.”
“That’s actually an interesting idea,” he mused. “I’ll have to remember it.” Sadly, Ivalis had no laptops with which to take notes.
Katalyn grinned and went back to playing with her hair, which kept finding its way back onto her forehead.
Ed could swear they had been sitting farther apart just a few minutes ago.
Alright, he thought. I’ll forgive you the lack of laptops, Ivalis.
“So,” Katalyn said, “tell me about your adventuring profession.”
“Are you sure?” Ed asked. He looked around. No one seemed to be eavesdropping.
He scratched his chin and sought a good place to start that wouldn’t sound too obvious if someone overheard. “It’s… different from what I expected. Every time I think I’m getting the hang of it, I stumble into some new, mostly dangerous shit. Hell, even the food can be lethal—you should see our chicken farms, it’s insane…” He shrugged. “But, you know what? I enjoy it.” Maybe it means I’m as crazy as everyone else around here.
Katalyn, if anything, was a good listener. She examined his words as carefully as she would have studied a gem.
“Sounds fun,” she said. “Is it as dangerous as they say?” she asked hopefully. “I mean, I keep hearing of Dungeon Lo—adventurers, I mean—getting killed left and right, but they keep popping up, like rabbits in a garden.”
Ed considered his answer. His life was dangerous, but from what he knew of Ivalis, it was dangerous for everyone, including batblins, horned spiders, and innocent villagers. Intelligent life here, it seemed, always had someone or something farther up on the food chain which found them tasty. Truth be told, although my life is dangerous, at least I have the chance to defend myself. Kharon offered me power, and he did fulfill his part of the deal. I can do magic without training when everyone else has to learn it slowly. My drones are a builder’s dream come true. My allies are capable, smart, decent people. If a mindbrood attacked, he’d rather have them by his side than the Inquisition, for example.
On the other hand, given what he knew of Katalyn… well, he could guess at the kind of answer she’d rather hear.
His conscience fought his baser instincts across a brutal mental war that lasted about half a second.
“Oh, yes,” he said. “Terribly dangerous.” He passed a finger across his neck with an exaggerated motion. “I keep meeting people that want to kill me—it’s insane. You wouldn’t believe how many experience points I’ve been racking in this last month alone. Danger all the time, oh yes. Not even counting the eldritch abomination that keeps barging into my room while I’m sleeping to throw me inside undead-infested catacombs.”
He felt a brief pang of shame. At least he’d enough dignity to stop himself before asking if she wanted to see the small cut on his forearm where Scar’s dagger had nicked him.
Katalyn barked an amused laugh. “Oh, really?” She grinned in a way that made it clear that she saw through his transparent bullshit, but at the same time wanted to hear more. “Are catacombs filled with undead part of your normal day-to-day life?” She rested her chin on her hands and batted her eyelids at him again.
Ed took a sip of ale to wet his dry throat. “Er,” he said. “Not exactly.” He desperately looked for anything dangerous to share with her that, at the same time, didn’t involve a brain-eating monster that thought of itself as a little girl. Because that would surely kill the mood. “Horned spiders are, though. They’re our allies now, but before that… a single misstep and they’d have turned us into snacks.” His remaining spiderling stirred under his jacket.
“They don’t seem to bother you now,” Katalyn said.
“Yes, well, we came to an understanding.” The grandmother of his spiderling now served as a trophy over his fireplace. Would the Ed from Earth have been proud of that brutality? He had no way to know. Maybe Murmur’s pact hadn’t changed him, but Ivalis had, and now he could only remember his self from before as a faint afterimage.
Katalyn stirred in her chair and let the air escape from her lungs in a placid yawn. “Can I share something with you?” She stretched. “If Kharon had offered me a pact when I was younger, I may have accepted.”
Ed nodded. “I think I can guess why you would have.” He yawned, too, despite himself. “What made you decide otherwise?”
“All that excitement,” she said wistfully. “The people, the adventures, the experience points… but in the end, your kind can’t get very far from their lairs, can they? Not like vampires, who need to lie on their natal soil during the day… I mean, all these powers you have revolve around finding a strategic location and fortifying it. Then you stay there, day after day.” She glanced at the frosted window. “In the end, the place becomes more famous than the man. It devours him.”
Ed had a vague inkling that she wasn’t talking about his dungeon—not really. He also suspected he’d need several more ranks in Spirit to figure her out on his own. Instead, he simply asked her. “What do you mean?”
“Ah, I don’t know,” she said. “It’s this city. A lovely place for someone like me, filled with lovely people—as long as you stay away from the windows. But…” She snapped her fingers softly and grimaced, seemingly s
earching for the right words. “No matter how hard I try, it seems like I cannot get very far from myself. Half the Guild’s members arrived here before me and knew Torst—one way or the other. And when they see me, they see him, too. So, you know. Sometimes I wonder if what I need is a change of scenery. Perhaps somewhere sunny… like Plekth. Lots of excitement to be had there.” She smiled again. “And a remarkable lack of angry wraiths.”
Ed rested his back against his chair and stared at the ceiling. This is the reason I can’t trust a character sheet, even if it never lies. If I were to look at, say, the stats of Karmich and Katalyn, I bet I’d see similar numbers. But one is in love with a mercenary who broke his ribs and won’t ever reciprocate, and the other is in love with a continent she barely knows, because it sounds exciting and no one knows her.
It also told him that, whatever he and Katalyn had going on tonight, it wouldn’t last.
One day very soon she’s going to leave for Plekth. And she was right about his own nature. He was tied to the Haunt. And not because of his powers, but of his own volition.
He stirred, then looked at her, sprawled on her chair and staring at the window with a distant smile, drowning in wanderlust, but not knowing it. She was lovely, and ephemeral.
And she caught him looking. “So,” she said, “we’ve gone out twice. First time, we went exploring Undercity’s catacombs and farmed undead and cultists for experience points; second time, we walked through the harbor and met my old friend Oscor. Any suggestions for the third time?”
“Ah, I know a dangerous place we can go to. Right now, actually,” Ed said. Why not? We won’t be together for long, but that makes it all the more precious. “It’s just upstairs.”
She snorted softly and raised him an eyebrow. “Dangerous, you say? Tell me more.”