by G. Akella
The whistling was getting closer. I looked around on the go and noticed a big three-story house with white columns framing the entrance hiding behind branching trees some fifty yards off the road. Forest Violet, I thought at once. It had to be the local den of debauchery that Rioh had spoken of. With precious few other alternatives and whistling that kept getting closer, I didn't hesitate for more than a few moments.
I hustled to close the distance between me and the house, ran up the marble steps and turned the carved wooden knob. A bell rang melodiously, and I found myself inside a spacious empty hall. The walls—finished in soft pastel tones—were decorated with gilded engraved panels, casting dazzling reflections off the hall's many mirrors and adding even more volume to the space. A few beige sofas stood beside squat coffee tables on cambered legs. The quiet of the room was disturbed only by the barely audible murmur of a small decorative fountain.
I stopped in the doorway, hesitating. Where were all the inhabitants? Just then the curtains rustled softly aside, and a comely demoness around my age sauntered into the hall. She fixed me with an incredulous look, her green vertical eyelids unblinking. Her assets—of which I counted many—were nicely accentuated by a formfitting blue dress.
"Hello! I was just passing by and decided to drop in."
There was no answer. The young woman continued to examine me like some exotic zoo animal. It was beginning to get to me.
"Are you deaf?" I asked empathetically. "Or do you see your future on my forehead? Or maybe I walked into a library and not a brothel?" I nodded at the few books lining the coffee tables.
"This is a salon," the demoness spoke in a throaty, pleasant voice, a playful sparkle in her eye. "That's what this establishment is called here. I apologize, but we're closed today."
"That's a shame," I said. I had zero desire to go back outside.
"Was that you they were whistling at outside?"
"Yes," there was no sense in lying. "But I didn't break any laws, and I'm in no mood to deal with those gentlemen."
"You don't look like a criminal, light one," she mused. "But do you really think that your pursuers will simply pass by our little establishment? Or do you expect me to hide you from the city guard?"
"You got me," I grunted. "Obviously, I won't be able to avoid this headache today. Goodbye." I spun around and took a step toward the door.
"Wait!"
I stopped and shot back, without turning around:
"What now?"
"If you promise to come see me another day, I will help you."
"Do I have to sign my name in blood?"
"Very funny."
"I'm sorry. You have a deal."
"Come," she took my hand and led me into another room, then motioned at a small sofa. "Have a seat. Care for a drink?"
"Just water, please."
What did she want with me? The demoness left and returned almost right away, holding two glasses. At that same moment there was a knock on the door. With a finger to her lips, the woman put the glasses on a coffee table and went to answer the door.
She was gone for about five minutes, and I took the opportunity to look around. The room was the exact copy of the other one, only without a fountain. A mirror caught my eye. There appeared to be some imperceptible change in my appearance... Had my hair gotten a shade darker? No, it must be the lighting playing tricks. But the eyes! My eyelids had changed shape—they weren't like a demon's just yet, but something in between a demon and a human. The iris around the lid had grown yellowish. I ran my hand through my hair and sighed with relief—no sign of horns just yet.
"When you're done admiring yourself, let's sit and talk," a voice sounded behind me, dripping with irony. "I'm Dara, by the way."
I straightened my shirt. I'd forgotten to put on my armor, though perhaps that was for the best.
"Krian," I nodded, turning around.
"Have a seat, Krian," she gestured at the sofa across from her. "Don't worry, I don't bite," the demoness arched her back, cat-like. "They're gone. No man in his right mind will cross the threshold of this place on this day," she smirked. "Right mind being the operative term."
"Far be it from me to argue. Now, I've got a few questions myself. What's so special about today? And why do you want me to come back another day? Are you a succubus?" I sat across from her, picking my glass off of the coffee table and taking a sip. The water was flavored with lemon.
"Many of us are called succubi," she smiled and threw back her fair-colored hair in a fluid elegant motion. "Yes, the true blood does course through my veins. As for today, it is the seventh day of the second summer month—the day of Orik's Remembrance. On this day, a man and a woman had better not find themselves sharing a bed if they are not husband and wife. Lata is a woman, after all, and you know how resourceful we women can get if vengeance is in order. If you've got the time and the desire to hear the long and sorrowful story of how the goddess lost her beloved, I'll be happy to tell you."
"Thanks, but no thanks," I shook my head. It was clear enough that today was a day of abstinence, and the gods certainly weren't to be trifled with. "And why do you want to see me again? Love at first sight, is it?"
"Fie, how crude!" the demoness pulled a grimace. But she couldn't hold back a giggle just the same. "Tell me, Krian, how many of my girlfriends have slept with a light one? Hmm?"
"Do you think the light races are special somehow? I've never slept with a succubus either—so what?"
"We are many, but you are one. Do you see now? As to whether or not you're special, I don't give a damn either way. I'll tell my girlfriends whatever I want." She licked her lips emphatically, then sighed for some reason and continued. "But you shouldn't expect anything special either. You're strange, very strange."
"How am I strange?"
"You're acting like an elder demon—our charms are practically useless against them. But you're surely not an elder, at least not yet," she shrugged.
I didn't tell her about my resistance to mental magic—why bother? Besides, the situation was so absurd I still couldn't make heads or tails of it. OK, so I was the cretin who had decided to hide from the guards in a house of ill repute. But why did she...
"So you risked everything just to add to your collection?"
"I didn't risk much," she smiled. "Even if you come clean about where you hid, nobody is going to come after me. As for everything else, it is beyond your understanding, so don't bother trying. The true blood changes us, endowing us with certain abilities unique to us alone. For instance, I know for a fact that She who will be your shadow will reward me someday for not allowing you to leave here today."
"What are you talking about?" I was getting increasingly confused.
"I'm sorry, I've already said too much." Dara climbed up on the sofa and made herself comfortable in the corner. "Tell me about yourself, light one."
I got to the hotel a little after midnight. The demoness bade me farewell around half past eleven, claiming it would be best not to tempt certain goddesses who were particularly despondent on that day. I pondered her words for a while on my way back, but failed to reach any conclusion and dismissed the matter altogether. There weren't that many people out in the streets, and I made my way to The Learned Troll, trying to avoid the attention of the patrols. Once I was in, I looked the half-full hall over and proceeded toward the bar. I wasn't hungry—Dara had fed me with sweets of some sort—but I could really do with a cold pint.
Gerid was standing behind the bar. Upon seeing me, he leaned in and said in a low voice, without removing the pipe from his teeth:
"What have you gotten yourself into?"
"Depends on what you mean," I shrugged. "I'd really like a beer—today was hectic as hell."
"Your acquaintance is waiting for you at the table in the far corner," the demon nodded in the direction of the table in question. "He said he only came to talk, but I advise you to be careful in your dealings with him. I looked where he pointed and swore quietly. Speak of
the devil... Dar Annat was sitting at the far table, his arms crossed over his chest and his back against the wall. The tifling was pretending to study the glass of wine before him, but I was totally sure that he had already noticed me. On the plus side, no one was grabbing me or dragging me anywhere.
I sighed, took my beer from the bar, and headed for the far corner. The tifling only looked at me once I sat down in front of him.
"Greetings to you, Dar Annat. It's a good thing you turned up—I was planning to visit you tomorrow." I decided offense was the best defense in my case. "I was attacked by unknown assailants in the city today. They had whistles, too... Musicians?"
"Asses, more likely," the tifling snorted. "But you keep surprising me, Krian. That was a magnificent escape from a paralysis spell! The agents expected you to Jump forward or backward, but they didn't know you could Step through Darkness."
"What was their reason for trying to apprehend me? What did I do for the esteemed guardsmen to spend half an hour whistling to each other all across the city?"
"What was the letter that you gave to Pront, the secretary of Venerable Yldiz?"
"A sales report from Jarus Province. Is anything wrong?"
"Who gave you the letter in Laketa?" the tifling ignored my question.
"What's Laketa? What is this... an interrogation?"
"No, just a conversation so far."
I kept looking at Annat, and a thought crossed my mind for a moment, vanishing without a trace, yet leaving me with a distinct feeling that I was overlooking something.
"Laketa is the central city of Jarus Province," said the visitor in the meantime.
"Oh, so that's what this is about! Unfortunately, I've never been to Laketa—I picked the letter from the corpse of a demon who had been devoured by some of the less friendly representatives of the local fauna."
There was no point in lying, so I told Annat the whole story the way it happened.
"Can you prove it?" the tifling pressed on.
"I can swear on your artifact," I shrugged, then thought for a moment. "If you wait here for five minutes, I can bring you evidence. Will the late courier's cloak be satisfactory?"
"Quite so."
"I'll bring it in a moment. Believe me, I don't intend to disappear—I just need to visit my room."
"I'm fairly certain you won't. Incidentally, are you aware how great a risk it was for you to visit The Forest Violet?
"You know that, too?"
"Young man, please give us some credit—we aren't complete idiots. The fact that you managed to evade two guard patrols doesn't mean we couldn't find you by your tag. I told you we didn't have that many light ones in our town."
"All right, wait here," I sighed. "I'll bring down the cloak."
I went up to my room, retrieved the cloak of the hapless courier from storage, and returned to the hall.
"Can I take this?" Annat asked, having studied the cloak thoroughly.
I didn't know what he found there, but whatever it was, he looked satisfied.
"Sure, go ahead," I waved my hand. "Do you have any more questions?"
"What else did you find among the dead courier's possessions?"
"A letter for Lady Janam and a few coins."
I saw the tifling tense up, as though preparing to pounce.
"Do you have the letter on you?"
"Sure, here it is," I produced the scroll from my bag. "The lady is away on a trip, so I could not deliver it today."
"Interesting," the tifling carefully examined the scroll that sparkled with magic.
"It must be delivered personally," I shrugged. "You can take it if you want," I offered him the scroll. "You can do the delivery yourself."
"Thanks, but no thanks," Annat shied away from the scroll as if I were offering him a venomous snake. "You found it, you deliver it," he said. The end of the phrase had a detached sound to it, as though the Dar was pondering something at the moment. I shrugged and returned the scroll to my bag.
"That's it—I have no further questions for you," the tifling rose from the table. "Should anything else happen, you know where to find me, Krian. Goodbye."
"Dar Annat," I rose from my seat. "Why did they tried to arrest me today?"
"Pront, the secretary of Venerable Yldiz, the recipient of your letter, was arrested today on charges of high treason."
The tifling nodded to me and started to walk toward the exit.
I watched him go, thinking there was definitely something I was missing...
"How much?!"
"Two thousand gold coins—and that's a special offer to a light one. Otherwise I wouldn't even talk to you," Master Kryon, who indeed looked a lot like a horned red-faced dwarf with a singed stubby beard, stuck his finger into his ear, as if actually expecting to find something inside. "You folks from up there must be thinkin' Kryon will work for you for ten coppers, eh?" The dwarf took his finger out and examined it with slight regret. Then he returned to reality and glared at me. "Well, you won't get squat from me for ten coppers!" he shouted, apparently including the entire population of Karn into "you lot."
I drew a heavy sigh. Why did game devs and writers always try to represent dwarves in this manner—as loud, quarrelsome louts? Even when these dwarves happened to be demons. I took out the letter from Raey's father and handed it to the smith.
"I need gold, not kindling paper," Kryon grunted, but did take the letter.
"Duh, now he's at it, too!" said the smith gruffly. "What did you do, cut off Vill's balls and give them to him for his experiments?" he inquired, though the hostility was gone from his voice.
Your reputation has increased. Kryon the Master Smith relates to you with respect.
"Eight hundred gold and not a single coin less. You and that tailed bastard will drive me to bankruptcy." Un-freaking-believable! Eighty thousand bucks for a suit of armor. And that was with a 60% discount. On the other hand, a suit of armor in this world was much more important than an SUV in the other one.
"Might you be interested in this, master?" I produced a vial of skhiarta's blood from my bag.
Kryan took the vial and examined it.
"How many do you have?" asked the smith in an indifferent voice, trying to look calm.
"About ten," I shrugged. I knew how this game was played!
"I'll take eighty off," grunted the master smith, hiding his eyes.
"Don't take me for an idiot! The last skhiarta was killed fifty years ago," I recollected Kyle's words. "It's an extremely rare ingredient." I had forgotten to look up the value of the reagent in the wiki, but the rare class of the vials told me some bargaining was definitely in order. "Half the price!"
"Are you out of your mind?" Kryon made a grand gesture with his hands, addressing the smirking apprentices who stood in the corner of the smithy, as if calling onto them to bear witness to my madness. "You must have hit the cobblestones with your head when you fell from your plane to ours!" He gestured downward with his hand, describing my alleged arrival and head injury. "One hundred and sixty, and not a copper more!"
"Really, Master, it's not like I'm trying to pawn off ten vials of gopher blood or some such. That thing came from the Gray Frontier! Three hundred, and it's a deal!"
"Two hundred for ten vials is my final price."
"All right, it's a deal," I was tired of bargaining, and I was actually fine with the price. "I suddenly remembered I had forty of them. Such a lucky coincidence, isn't it, Master Smith?"
"My gramps told me not to have any dealings with light ones—he said all of you were dodgy," Kryon muttered. However, he didn't look particularly disappointed. "So what is it that you need?"
"This set here," I pointed at a pair of greaves from a level 100 set of armor.
"But you won't be able to wear them," the demon was surprised.
"I think I will, in about a month," I reassured him. "A shield would be nice, too," I said while looking around the smithy. "Actually, I recall that I have another fifteen vials on me..."
/> I don't know whether my inner hamster was disappointed by my overpaying or rejoicing at the fact that its master would receive an amazing rare set of armor in three weeks, but I was approaching the Temple of All Gods in a good mood. Actually, there wasn't much to be that happy about—a suit of armor of this sort could be purchased at the game auction for about 300-400 gold pieces, given the price gap between the auction and similar craftsmen. But I must reiterate that auction house access was a long way off, and the suit of armor had cost me nothing, since I didn't intend to level my alchemy or blacksmithing skills.
Initial levels of professions could be learned in starting cities. The local starting city was Iskhart, but I had no wish to travel all the way there. I had enough money for the time being—over nine thousand, which should last me a while. My only problem was my main weapon—I could probably make it to level 100 with what I had, but I'd definitely need an upgrade once I got there. Unfortunately, Kryon was only a master armorer—he did have a few swords for sale, but nothing above the unusual class, which wouldn't be much better than what I had equipped at the moment. Oddly enough, there were no good weaponsmiths in Nittal, and Kryon suggested that I inspect the shops and look for weapons personally. I didn't feel like doing anything of the sort, so I decided to head to the Temple, then pay a visit to Dara in the evening, and set off for Urcahnta tomorrow morning.
If you asked an Ancient Greek who their god was, the reply would be instant—something along the following lines: "We have many gods, but the main ones are those sitting on Mount Olympus." There was no equivalent of Olympus in the realm of Arkon, nor were there any dramatic legends of how Zeus gave birth to Athena, who came out of her daddy's head clad in a full suit of armor and wielding a spear (how was it she didn't emerge mounted?!). Arkon's gods just existed, and that was that. The copy that accompanied the patch mentioned gods' plans of some sort—I knew nothing of them, and had no wish to find out for as long as they didn't affect me personally.