The Kartoss Gambit (The Way of the Shaman: Book #2)

by Vasily Mahanenko

  The quest description didn't say a word about marriage or a time limit, so I agreed to take it. Me passing up a rare treasure-finding quest? Not gonna happen!

  "That's very good then. Now carry me home, I've been here for ages now," said a pleased Patricia and stretched her arms towards me.

  Quest 'Serving old friends' completed.

  Reward: 80 Experience, points remaining until next level: 1001 Experience.

  I said good bye to Mabel and carefully delivered Patricia home, who now looked pleased and cast a masterful gaze at the surroundings, I was on my way to get the maps.

  The Cartographer was a representative of a species common in Barliona: gnome, greedybuggeritis vulgaris. For two gold he offered me to buy ‘the most exactest ever’ map, put together by a ‘daring and lucky’ explorer. The snag of it was that I knew full well that good maps cost upwards of two hundred gold, but fell for the Cartographer’s words like a little kid. After handing me the map and taking my money, the gnome did all he could to see me out, saying he was busy, that he needed to visit his grandmother and generally had a headache, but I did manage to unfold and take a look at what I bought. Oh boy! A map like this I could draw myself even without the Cartographer profession! It had arrows, some incomprehensible unlabelled signs and drawings of supposedly interesting locations that took up half the map. With predictable trepidation I turned the page and looked at the plan of the town. Whoever drew this map should be banned for life from ever repeating the feat. The streets were simple straight lines forming a grid and here and there had labels like ‘Bangk’, ‘Meine square’ and ‘Toomple’… I looked at the gnome and was met by the gaze of big, honest eyes, radiating incomprehension.

  “Is something wrong? I didn’t have time to look at the map myself, but I was assured that it is the very best. Don’t you agree?” this greedy salesman asked this with such overplayed naiveté that I gave up. After all, that’s the way he’s been scripted: to trick the players as much as possible, thereby getting the most money out of them. What was the point of getting angry?

  I left the gnome only twenty minutes later, after I acquired the full set of maps of the Malabar Empire and its main towns, including Farstead. I also trained in the Cartographer profession, and was now able to correct the maps myself. It is a very useful profession that brings in a lot of money and levels up just through drawing pictures. All these goodies cost me seven hundred gold. I didn’t even manage to level up in Trade, because the gnome flatly refused to give me a discount. Never mind, the maps were worth it. I asked the nearest patrol for the exact location of Almis and headed over there to pay him a visit. Let’s see what a former Shaman trainer looks like.

  The door of Alamis's house was opened by a plump maid whose snow-white lace apron made a contrast to her dark skin. After giving me an appraising look, as if examining the contents of my personal bag and the amount of money in my possession, she deigned to utter:

  "Come in, Mr. Almis has been expecting you since the morning."

  I was expected? Or was Almis expecting someone else and the maid simply mistook me for the intended guest? In any case, I'll not leave here until I’ve found out everything about by former boss. I sat in a comfortable armchair and began to examine the room when an old man dressed in a plush dressing gown and bunny-eared slippers joined me in the armchair opposite. I seem to be running into a lot of old folks today. Judging by his sure movements and lack of glasses or a walking stick, the old man was hardly older than seventy. I saw that he even had all his teeth when Almis — I was sure that I was in the presence of none other than the former Shaman trainer – gave me a wide smile. I stood up and bowed to the former trainer – it’s nothing to me and he might like it.

  “My greetings to you too, younger brother. Have a seat, I’ve gotten used to everyone sitting in my presence now,” Almis paused for a minute, looking me over head to foot, and then continued: "You're quite a sight, to say the least! It’s been a while since we had a Shaman show up around here who had every chance of becoming a Harbinger. According to Prontho, it is Kornik that you need, as he's the only one that can cut a diamond like this and get the main principles of Shamanism into that thick head. And with the recommendation that was given to you by the Supreme Spirit of Air, you simply must be something else even without training.” By the way, I was warned that you would visit me today, but I’ll admit that I expected to see you much earlier. Did the story of Swiftbel’s treasures capture your imagination so much as to get you so delayed?"

  “So you know about Swiftbel?” I asked in surprise, staring at Almis’s shining smile. He’s looking at me like I was a little child, I swear.

  “If course, but you needn’t worry yourself on that account. Running around the forest looking for some treasure is of little interest at my age. When you get your hands on it, drop by and tell me how you managed to get the better of the woodwothe.”

  "And who is Prontho?" I asked the name of the unknown being that gave me the recommendation. I didn’t think I had the time to get to know anyone well enough for them to give me such a detailed description…

  "You know him. He is a High Shaman, the orc who is currently the head of the Pryke mine. My former teacher."

  "But why was he stripped of the ability to teach? Why was he sent to the mine? Who is Kornik? Why is it him that I have to go to for training?” I fired my questions at him one after the other. While Almis seemed to be in a mood to give answers, I had to make the best of it.

  "Is this all that you wanted to find out today,” Almis raised an eyebrow in question, “or did you have a couple more questions? Don’t hurry, have a think, what if you missed something? If so, write it all down on a piece of paper then read it over a few times to check in case you forgot something. And as soon as you have done that, you can proceed to tear up the paper and throw it away. You are a Shaman and not some chattering fishwife to behave in such a stupid manner!” at the end Almis even stood up a little and raised his voice and it dawned on me that he was being sarcastic rather than telling me what to do.

  “The Supreme Spirit brought news that your Totem is a Dragon,” said Almis now in a calm voice, as he leant back in his armchair. “I propose an exchange. I answer any three of your questions and you show me your Dragon. Dragons are such interesting creatures.”

  “I don’t know how to show my Totem. I’m just an Initiate Shaman. I have to get to a trainer to summon my Totem,” I tried to get out of showing Draco. There's no reason to show him to just anyone, but Almis abruptly interrupted me:

  “A trainer will not be teaching you to work with the Totem. He will tell you where to look for its physical incarnation. You would have to learn how to communicate with the Totem yourself!”

  “So how do I summon him?” I uttered in bewilderment, more for myself than for Almis, and then one bright thought entered my head. Why am I so slow? I just have to look in the manual and the forum, where everything is written out just for such dimwits like myself. I was about to enter ‘Totem’ into the search when Almis said:

  “Choose a place where you would like to see your Totem and then call him in your thoughts. To put him away, ask the Totem to disappear. Do it.”

  Choose a place and call him? Seems simple enough. I looked at the small empty table that stood between the two armchairs and thought it was a good place for Draco. I then closed my eyes, brought the image of the Totem before me and said: “Hi, come to me, let’s play for a bit.” For a couple of seconds nothing happened and I was about to repeat my call, when a projection of a playfully swirling Little Dragon appeared above the table.

  “To pway? I like to pway. Where's ballie?” I heard a child’s voice which seemed to come from everywhere. Judging by Almis’s enthusiastic (though not surprised) expression, he either didn’t hear anything or the fact that Totems could speak was nothing unusual to him. “Will there be peases today? I wiked them wast time.”

  “How sweet,” Almis whispered in amazement, stood up from his chair and s
tarted to pace by the table, watching Draco. Then he turned to me and said, “I'm taking him. You’ll still never manage to incarnate him – no-one has seen dragons for hundreds of years. Come to me, my little one,” Almis stretched his hand towards the projection, clearly intending to take Draco away. Such impudence left me dumbstruck for a few seconds, but I quickly came to myself and jumped up to scream about the violation of my rights. I wouldn't just let someone take my Dragon! Suddenly the room was filled with a terrible roar of the Dragon, which drowned out all other sounds. I was landed with a bunch of debuffs with a sign ‘Not applicable to the owner’: ‘Stun’, ‘Daze’, ‘Petrify’ and so on. The duration of the debuffs varied from a few seconds to a couple of minutes, but this wasn’t the main thing. The main thing was that a stream of fire spouted from the Dragon into Almis and the former Shaman trainer ceased to exist in Barliona. Only a pile of ash remained in his place, which was dejectedly lying there on the scorched floor. The Little Dragon started to chirp indignantly, circling around and casting angry glances in every direction, while the stunned maid stood there agape, too scared to even breathe.

  “Listen, run away quick, I will call you later and we’ll play then,” I asked Draco in my thoughts, helplessly closing my eyes not to see the black blotch on the floor. Barliona is a truly horrible game: I had already felt real panic, pain and pleasure. Now came the time to find out what is felt by people when all their hopes and plans are destroyed. Just now, with the help of my Totem, I destroyed an NPC, thus violating the main condition of my parole. Any minute now the guards would appear and I will go back to the mines for the remainder of my prison term. My head began to swim, my feet gave way and I fell into the armchair.

  “Murder!” as if reading my thoughts, the buxom maid gave out a wild scream as soon as Draco disappeared. “Master’s been killed! Guards! Grab the killer!”

  The guards that popped up out of nowhere quickly surrounded me, their halberds pointed at me from every direction. The head of the guards waved his hand and on the projection that appeared everyone saw how Almis stretched his hand towards the projection of the Little Dragon, I shouted in indignation, jumped up, as if giving an attack command, the Little Dragon opened his mouth and the wave of fire left a big soot mark where Almis just stood.

  “Mahan, you are accused of the murder of Almis, the former Shaman trainer, with a Dragon as the murder weapon. You have the right…”

  I closed my eyes and hung my head as I listened to the guard. The clan, the Chess Pieces, the Herald’s quest, the Emperor, Prontho, Swiftbel’s treasure… It all now looked so unreal and impossible that a lump had appeared in my throat. Why, oh why? Why did he try to get his hands on Draco?

  “Good day, gentlemen, what are you doing in my home?” the sound of the voice made me open my eyes and stare dumbfounded at an open door to the next room. Almis, alive and well, was looking questioningly at the guards. If Almis in that silly dressing gown and slippers had made you smile, Almis the High Shaman as he stood at the door commanded respect.

  He had a Shaman’s hat with branching stag horns, that were almost grazing the door frame, a large cape, billowing behind him as if in the wind, and a staff with a curved, loop-like top, inside which swirled a blue-grey cloud, illumined by silent flashes of lightning. On Almis’s shoulder perched an amber-eyed hawk, which periodically filled the room with a piercing cry, which put a two-second paralysing debuff on those present. An embodied Totem! And Almis himself was clearly a High Shaman in full battle gear! To be honest, he looked terrifying enough to make a shiver run down your neck, so when the guards lowered their halberds as they stared at Almis, I unconsciously backed off, was tripped by the armchair, fell, and, realising that it was too late to run, tried to dissolve in the damned piece of furniture, to avoid becoming an accidental target for any smiting.

  “We are apprehending the criminal that killed you,” taking no notice of Almis’s appearance reported the guard, totally unperturbed by the absurdity of his statement.

  “Ah, that’s it, is it? I agree, criminals must be apprehended, but I do not see any in this room. Can you remind me once again, what is this young man accused of?”

  “Your murder!” I was starting to like this commander of the guards. He stuck to his guns, despite the fact that even his subordinates had started to glance at each other in incomprehension. Good on him. I’m also rather curious as to whom the Little Dragon burned if Almis was alive. Everyone saw the projection.

  “My murder?” Almis ostentatiously raised his eyebrows, “Mary,” he looked at the maid, who stared at him with huge frightened eyes and kept trying to back off, despite her back already being against the wall. When she heard herself being addressed, she gave a high-pitched exclamation, started shuffling her feet even more, sliding against the floor and trying to push through the wall with all her weight, “please make some tea for me and for my guest. And calm down, I’m not a ghost.”

  “As for you, gentlemen,” Almis turned towards the guards, “Allow me to lay any doubts to rest — I am alive and well and have no intention of dying or allowing myself to be killed,” after that he entered the room, which was immediately filled with freshness and the smell of thunder. Almis looked at the black spot that was left after ‘him’, shook his head reproachfully and mumbled something like ‘Catherine will eat me alive’, and then went on: “I have not lived for two hundred years to be incinerated by some projection. Mary, the tea!” Almis raised his voice when he saw that the mid was still trying to break through the wall with her body.

  The guards weren’t giving up, so Almis had to allow himself to be touched to prove that he wasn’t a ghost. When they left the house, Almis sat back in the armchair as if nothing had happened and scratched his nose, by the looks of it deciding on how to start the conversation. He was about to say something, when the maid came in and, casting strange glances at the High Shaman, put the tray on the table, and then immediately run back a few paces.. It seems she was having a terrible day: first me with my Dragon and then Almis, who died and then revived like a Phoenix. Later she will probably go and buy many strong drinks and try to forget this day like a bad dream.

  “Mary,” Almis said to the maid, again making her jump, “Everything is all right. No need to be so distressed. If you have doubts that I’m alive, you can also come up and give me a poke, I promise…,” Almis had no chance to say what he promised, as the maid flew up to him and started to poke him in his shoulder and chest with her fingers. She finally gave a clear sigh of relief and said:

  “Mr. Almis, you're alive? I was so afraid that you were… Well…” she was lost for words for a short while, looking at Almis and at me in turn, and then suddenly turned towards me and started to wail:

  “What on earth is going on? He came with the Dragon, scared me half to death, ruined the carpet, will probably make the cups all filthy too, and then…”.

  “Mary, I think you still have a lot of things to do in the kitchen,” Almis said gently, but categorically, which made Mary fall silent, throw me an angry glance and leave the room.

  “Take no notice,” Almis explained when he saw me gaze in surprise at the departing maid. “Mary has temporarily replaced my housekeeper, Catherine, who went into the town today and left in her place this walking incongruity. And although this isn’t Mary’s first time working here, she still hasn’t gotten used to certain peculiarities.” After making a brief pause to pour both of us some tea, Almis started to drink it with a visible pleasure that was almost contagious. I was full of questions, but if the host decided that now was the time for a tea ceremony, interrupting him would be very rude. I took up my cup and followed Almis’s example. It was ordinary tea, which very slightly restored some Hit Points and mana, adding no buffs or debuffs. I was even disappointed – ordinary old ladies had a much more delicious and useful tea than a High Shaman. We spent five minutes in tranquil silence. I tried to appreciate the tea, but failed miserably. The vast majority of players log into Barliona with their se
nsory filters turned on, so many objects lacked any taste, because it was unnecessary. I had a feeling that the High Shaman’s tea was a striking example of this rule: it had no taste, colour or smell. Finally Almis put his cup down and looked at me.

  “Patience is Shaman’s main strength. Without it commanding the Spirits is impossible: they are all like little children, capricious, wilful and restless. If a Shaman is impulsive, he will achieve nothing. Let me provide you a brief explanation of what happened today. First. I found out about Swiftbel’s treasure fairly easily — you were being watched by the Spirits that I sent from the moment you left the Mayor. As soon as a Shaman appeared in Farstead, even if it was a foolish and an inexperienced one, I was immediately told of this. I became interested in watching you: who you were, what would you do and how you would show yourself. By the way, if it’s not too much trouble, after our talk I will ask you to make the tea the honourable ladies taught you to make. What we were drinking just now could only be called tea at a very long stretch. Second. Prontho said that you possess a unique Totem, a Dragon, so I had to check whether your link with him was a strong one. Our world has many, let me put it this way, not very nice Shamans, who could be very capable of performing an alienation of your Totem, if it does not suit your Spirit. This is why I created a projection of my Spirit and sent it to chat with you. The projection turned out to be rather crude — I only noticed its appearance after I sent it out to you. Bunny-eared slippers… So embarrassing. But the Spirit did his job – if it was possible to alienate the Dragon, you would have lost him. I think it would have been better to experience disappointment now than when the Dragon grew and you got used to him. But it was fine in the end, so accept my sincere admiration for such a beautiful Totem. I know that you have very many questions, but I will answer only three. Think about them carefully before asking.”