by Vic Connor
I take a long look at the five rings. “Let’s get going,” I say. “We’ll find a safe place to sleep, with the stars our only roof, and tomorrow, we’ll be back to Duurstad to speak with Van der Kaart. We’ve done our part, finding out what’s in here. Let’s see how she can help us with our unfinished business on this island.”
We leave the pyramid’s cave and retrace our way back to the Northern road through the narrow ravine among the hills, then along the makeshift path that Abe’s cutlass has chewed across the jungle.
As soon as we set camp for the night, with Miyu taking the first guard, I log out back to the Lobby.
33
Unflinching Calm
I didn’t get the usual welcome.
I had been expecting Sveta to throw some jokes and jabs my way about my ungraceful climb to the pyramid, and I’d mentally prepared a couple of silly compliments for her coffee—I would call it ‘the magic potion that allowed us to think our way out of the mess with the mummies’ or some nonsense like that—but Sveta’s lighthearted assistant roleplay had vanished. She gave me no sardonic smirk, no bouncy taunts.
In fact, she’d removed her dark-rimmed glasses and laid them down on the wooden desk, her expression somber.
“Alright,” I said, “I guess this isn’t a time when there’s good news and bad news, but it’s all rather bad. Am I right?”
“Jake,” she said, “it’s about your father.”
“Well, on that we agree,” I replied. “Not sure you heard what Juanita and I talked about at the top of the pyramid. Those Aztecs glyphs in the concentric circles… I’m sure my father’s book is connected to their meaning, or even is the key to understanding them.”
She said nothing. Her emerald eyes had a sad, mournful glint.
I felt a nasty crawling sensation inside of my stomach. “Shit,” I whispered. “Not my in-game father. You mean Dad.”
She nodded.
“Spit it out already,” I said. “What happened?”
“He’s okay—”
“Yeah, right. And you’re serious like heck because … why, exactly?”
She lowered her head.
“Sorry,” I said, and rubbed my tired eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault, you’re just a messenger. But I need to know what happened.”
“He spent a few hours in intensive care,” she explained, “but his doctor says he’s okay now.”
“Which doctor said that? Doctor Kourailen, or Doctor Miller?”
That caught her off guard. “I…” she stammered. “Wait.” She conjured one of her floating screens. “Let me show you the vid.”
Dad appeared on the screen. He lay in a hospital bed, thin and pale and in shitty shape. He was looking at the camera and obviously forcing himself to smile. “Hey, champ,” he said.
Words got stuck in my throat.
The image froze. “It’s a recording,” Sveta added. “I forgot to tell you that, sorry.”
“Oh.” I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice.
“You know the rules: You can’t have live contact with the outsiders while—”
“Yes, I know,” I interrupted impatiently. “First you, then that Laura-from-Legal friend of yours drilled the whole damned rule book into my head for hours. Can I see the video now, please?”
There wasn’t much to it—less than thirty seconds of Dad telling me not to worry, that Doc Kourailen had said the fat lady hadn’t sung yet, and I had nothing to worry about. “Although I’ll kick your ass for borrowing from Akula the Shark behind my back, young man.” He frowned. “But what’s done is done. I’m all okay here, just wanted you to know.” He raised a thumb toward the camera. “Good luck, champ.”
He was much thinner than he’d been the last time I had seen him, which was only about a week ago.
“Doctor Miller is the oncologist,” I told the desk’s smooth wooden surface. “Doctor Kourailen is the psychiatrist. They assign you one when your chances of seeing the next Christmas are lower than a snowball’s in hell. Mostly to help you and your family cope with the fact you’re screwed. He really must love his job. I mean, he’s a good guy, Doc Kourailen, so I’m not saying it’s his fault or anything. He just happens to have the shittiest job in the world, if you ask me.”
“I don’t know what to say, Jake…”
I shrugged, wrestling my lips into a smile. “Me neither. So, let’s say nothing about what we can do nothing about, and focus on what we can do. That’s what helps me drag myself out of these holes. All right?”
“I wanted to say I’m sorry the higher-ups allowed nothing more than this short video to reach you, Jake. Rules are to be enforced, can’t make exceptions, yadda yadda…”
“Hey!” I admonished, doing my best to straighten my silk tie with slightly shaky hands. “What’s this seditious talk about bosses not being always one hundred percent correct?”
A faint trace of her playful assistant smile returned to her lips. “Sorry, boss,” she said. “I mean the other higher-ups.”
“Ah, right,” I said. “They’re a bunch of assholes, I’ll give you that. So, anyway.” I glanced at the wall: no clock nor numbers on display. “Where do we stand?”
“Do you really want to know, boss? I mean, given the context, I thought you’d rather, you know, spare yourself—”
“Nah,” I said, with a dismissive wave of my hand. “Nothing like bad news to push the other bad news out of your mind, trust me. Be a dear, Svetty, and let’s see those awful numbers.”
Yeah, they were bad news, too.
“Sixty frigging two point fragging two,” I groaned. “That’s almost two-thirds of the other competitors already in Multiplayer, damn it.”
“I’m afraid so, sir.”
Down below, near our tiny campfire, Miyu kept her naginata pointed straight up while she scanned the surrounding shadows.
“Ain’t no rest for the wicked,” I said. “Let’s skip to morning and get going.”
The clump of hills in the center of Isla Hermosa looms to our right as we travel east along the Northern Road back to Duurstad.
Uitzli wails softly whenever the rising sun pierces the jungle’s thick canopy and shines on our faces, forcing her to shut her eyes. Abe and I take turns letting her grab our arms for guidance; whenever Uitzli walks by my side, Abe positions himself about three steps ahead of her, his massive body providing a shield against the light.
Miyu and Juanita, moving much faster than us three, ensure no dangers and ambushes wait ahead. Just like on our way here, the path is clear; my mind quickly sinks into the repetitive monotony of swinging my feet forward … swinging the crutches forward … swinging my feet…
…swinging the crutches…
…swinging my feet…
…like the soothing, mildly hypnotic rhythm of waves lapping against the shore, or the lullaby of a rocking chair going back and forth, back and forth, back and forth against the backdrop of the soft hum of insects, and gusts of winds rustling the leaves and the foliage, and the heat rising as the humidity hanging in the air increases, cocooning the mind and senses as if a warm blanket has been wrapped around us…
…and here we are: It’s almost noon, the Caribbean sun flying high in the sky as the vegetation becomes sparser and we’re welcomed by the bald sandy dune where the beach meets the jungle, with Duurstad on the other side.
“That be a close fight, lad, ‘em motherless mummies in that Lord-forsaken cave,” Abe admits. We take a few moments to recover after climbing the sandy dune, feeling the city’s safety just within reach. “But ya called ‘em shots right, and ya called ‘em well.”
A somber shadow crosses Juanita’s face. She nods. “Foes like those we had never faced before, my child. Yet you kept your wits about you, preventing us from falling into disarray.”
Skill Upgraded!
Unflinching Calm:
Proficient Apprentice.
I shake my head. “It was mostly Uitzli’s doing,” I confess. She keeps her ey
es down, wrapped in clothes to hide herself from the sun. “She realized the pyramid’s power would increase our own.”
With coarse tenderness, Abe pats her head. “Now it ain’t jus’ this black-hearted sea dog who owes this sweet lil’ angel his worthless hide, aye?”
“Yes,” I agree. “But none of us would have made it out of there alone. Without you and Miyu buying us time and keeping those mummies at bay, they’d have overrun us.”
“How did you know, young Jake?” asks Juanita. “The pirate and the sunset warrior had struck those fiends in the chest, and they were impervious to our weapons. How did you know their heads were their weak spot?”
“Well.” I chuckle. “Let’s just say you and the mentors you hired for me have taught me a lot of things… But not everything I know was learned from them or you, so to speak.”
She smiles. “I am not entirely sure what you mean, my child. But, now that we are far away from the cave, I will say I am glad you knew, however you gained such knowledge.”
The Noh masks hisses, as if wondering if we plan to spend the whole day congratulating each other on how awesome we all are.
“All right, all right.” I laugh. “Let’s not keep Van der Kaart waiting.”
There are two constants with the Dutch soldiers standing guard at Duurstad’s entrance: Their boredom always seems to have increased, while their numbers decrease. Only two of them linger at the gate today: Brouweer and Van Dyk. Neither Hendricks nor Captain De Groot are around.
“Thems Dutchies, thems goin’ t’ be caught with ‘em pants down one of these days,” Abe grumbles as we approach. “Thems jus’ can’t always buy their way outta ev’ry damn fight, ya knows?”
“The Incas have a saying, I have heard,” Juanita says, “about gods providing rain and gold providing friends. It is no less true here than in the sunrise lands, I believe.”
The two Dutch soldiers nod and smile and tip their hats as we approach, but none is fluent enough in English to have a decent conversation. Or perhaps they have seen us come and go so many times that we’ve become part of the landscape, like the seagulls floating in the air above or the occasional little monkey wading into the sand only to return to the jungle.
“De Groot,” Van Dyk says. “Van der Kaart.”
“Yes, my friend,” I confirm, “do tell Captain De Groot that we’ll be seeing Van der Kaart, the mapmaker. As usual.”
“Ja, ja,” he smiles and nods. “Van der Kaart.”
“Is Hendricks with Van der Kaart too, by the way?” I ask. “I have something I’d like to return to him.” I pat my right hip, where I’ve holstered the pistol Hendricks loaned.
Van Dyk smiles and nods again. “Ja,” he repeats, “Van der Kaart.”
“This has been … informative, my friend,” I say.
“Ja, ja!” He smiles.
I turn to Juanita, who just shrugs. We leave the soldiers behind, and they pay us no mind as we stroll into their city.
“Ah,” says Van der Kaart when we enter her shop. “The expedition returns!” She looks each of us over, from head to toe. “All alive, to boot.” She raises an eyebrow. “All alive and well and with all their limbs still attached.”
“You sound disenchanted, Madam Van der Kaart,” I say. “Almost as if coming back in one piece means our exploration party can’t have bumped into anything overly exciting.”
“Daring exploration and thrilling discoveries don’t come without risk, ja?”
“Oh, they don’t, let me assure you,” I agree. “And we have found plenty. Keyword being ‘plenty,’ I may add.”
Damn, it’s nice to be the one yanking the chain: Both Van der Kaart and her gnomish sidekick seem to have lost interest in hurling private jokes, and have instead become keenly attentive to what we have to say.
I nod to Juanita, and the witch unfolds Father’s map on top of the mess of notepads and sketchbooks cramming the mapmakers’ table. “What we have found,” she says, tapping the sawed-off hill, “is here.”
“And what is it, pray tell?” Van der Kaart asks. Inktmeester takes a blank ream of paper and dips a quill—which seems a twin of the feather on my wide-brim hat, except mine is worn out by now while his is white as angels’ wings—into a small inkwell by his side. He looks at me, ready and eager to take notes.
Let’s prolong the suspense a little more and see if we can barter something out of it… “Just to be sure, Madam Van der Kaart,” I say. “After this, you’ll help us with our unfinished business with Barboza, correct?”
“Yes, yes, that was our deal.”
“As I said, our expedition met with no shortage of risks and dangers.” I look at the shelves by the lantern clock. “And our unfinished business will be all the riskier, so I was wondering how much detail you’d want in our retelling of what we’ve found?”
She clucks her tongue with disapproval. “Come on now, Mister Russel. Our help for your retelling, that was our deal.” She nods at the schematics on the shelves. “Those weren’t part of this transaction, as you surely recall.”
All right, this is what we’ve found…
I’d recall our discoveries better if you made one of them part of our current transaction…
“You know, Madam,” I tell her, “I’d recall and retell our discoveries much better—"
Haggling:
Failed!
Uh oh…
“I shall not be strong-armed nor pushed around in my own shop, Mister Russel,” she snaps. “I’m willing to excuse a single misstep from tired and wearied travelers, but I shall not endure two. So consider your next step carefully if you value our aid.”
She folds her arms across her thin chest and stares at me.
With an elegant, sparse flick of his wrist, Inktmeester puts the quill back into the inkwell, closes his notepad, and stares at me, too.
All right, this is what we have found…
I take it back. My apologies; as you said, it was a rough journey.
I insist. We risked life and limb to find out what is in there.
Damn these two; I can never tell if they’re bluffing…
“I take it back,” I say finally, bowing my head. “It was a rough journey. My apologies for such an outburst.”
“Say nothing of it, Mister Russel,” she responds dismissively. “We appreciate your eagerness to return and report, rather than giving priority to resting and recovering.” She frowns. “That said, though, as the experienced explorer you are, try to avoid swamps and pitfalls if you want my advice.”
Abe looks ready to grunt something in reply but thinks better of it and swallows his words.
I do the same with my pride. “All right,” I say, “let us share with you what we have found.”
Inktmeester’s quill continues scratching the paper for several moments after I finish my retelling of the events at the pyramid, our fight with the ancient mummies, and a brief description of the five concentric circles with the Aztec glyphs inscribed at the top.
“Aztec, you say?” asks Van der Kaart. “But how can that possibly be? The Spaniards were the first to settle this island about a century ago. The Aztecs came two decades later, and we soon followed.” She raises an incredulous eyebrow. “Surely everybody would know, had the Aztecs hollowed out a whole hill in front of our noses?”
“I don’t have an answer for that,” I tell her. “We know what we saw, not why or how.”
“And you’re certain the glyphs are Aztec?”
“I am,” Juanita confirms. She looks at Inktmeester’s notepad. “We did not take the time to memorize them, though.”
“Ah,” says Van der Kaart. “Such a shame…”
“Maybe ya should walks all t’ way there an’ writes ‘em pagan scriptures down yarrself with the fancy feather o’ yours?” Abe suggests.
“I wish we’d have had more time to study things properly,” I say quickly. “But, as my pirate friend here was trying to say, we’re travelers and explorers, not scribes. Still, that’s what we fou
nd, so I’d say we’ve fulfilled our part of the bargain. Your turn now, Madam: How do you plan to aid us?”
Inktmeester nods, then goes back to jotting down more notes in his tiny, neat typography. Van der Kaart looks at me, the mischievous sparkle returning to her eyes. “You’ve indeed kept your word, Mister Russel…”
Quest Completed!
Explore Sawed-Off Peak
Duurstad Reputation:
Resourceful Travelers
“…as for our own end of the bargain, I think you’ll be happy to know you may be about to get a lot more than you’ve bargained for. Which you’ll get in, say…”
“Twintig minuten,” finishes the bald gnome.
“Twenty minutes?” I ask.
“Your command of our language is outstanding, Mister Russel,” Van der Kaart says.
I decline to reply; I’d rather see where this bargain is going.
Inktmeester climbs down from his stool; he’s not much taller than a nine-year-old child, and not a huge one at that. He moves with feline grace as he fetches his hat, covers his bald head, and exits the shop. After crossing the street, he nods to the soldiers guarding the Opzichter’s tower and passes through its front door as if it was his own home.
34
The Collector of Favors
Van der Kaart encourages us to make ourselves comfortable and study her workshop while we wait. “Only twenty minutes, not a minute more,” she assures us. “The sun will sooner rise from the west than my associate indulge in tardiness.” She spends the time adding notes of her own on the notepad that Inktmeester left open.
“What do you think she meant, my child?” Juanita whispers. “What sort of bargain?”
“I have no clue,” I confess. “But I grudgingly have to agree with Abe on this one. These Dutchies always have some extra deal to make, or an extra concession to request.”