The Time Master

by Dmitry Bilik

  “Nah. I’ve always lived in the country. My last master wouldn’t let me go into the bathroom.”

  “Huh, I wonder why.”

  “What now, are you going to make me leave?”

  He sobbed and wiped his nose. His huge, shining yellow eyes filled with tears.

  “No, of course I won’t. Just don’t do this ever again, please. Look, here’s the water trap. It’s clogged. We can unscrew it, take out all the junk, and then put it back together.”

  “Oh, Master, show me, I’m a smart guy.”

  “Come here, take a look.”

  A half hour later, freshly showered, I was sitting in the kitchen eating scrumptious chicken gizzards fried with onion. I always thought my mother was the best cook in the world, but Bumpkin clearly planned to give her a run for her money.

  “Where did you find them?”

  “In the freezer. You ought to buy some things, Master. You don’t have a bean foodwise. Me, I can survive a long time without food and I’ve seen worse. But you, you might die. You’re the skinniest Korl I’ve ever seen.”

  “Have you seen a lot of Korls?”

  “Plenty,” Bumpkin nodded from his perch on the stool.

  “OK, I’ll go stock up today. I have money — I changed some dust yesterday.”

  And now I’ll head out and get some more for completing your mission, I thought. I strolled into the hall and picked up my jacket.

  “Say, Bumpkin, why did you wash the clothes by hand?”

  “How else was I supposed to do it?” he asked in surprise. “I looked around and your household isn’t very well stocked. You don’t have a bar of soap or a washboard.”

  “The washing machine didn’t suit you?”

  “Washing machine?” Bumpkin’s eyes grew even larger. “Show me, please.”

  “I’ll show you later. And please don’t try to use it without me. And you know what, Bumpkin, please stay out of the bathroom for the time being, will ya?”

  As I sat on the bus, it occurred to me that it might be a good idea to get a car if my earnings led me to a new level. Then I wouldn’t have to endure the jostling on public transportation. Or maybe I should get a motorbike? I’d spent my whole childhood dreaming about having one.

  The massive shape of another monster floated into view in the sky overhead. Could it be some sort of small dragon? Or what did they have there?

  Lost in my reverie, I got off at the stop I needed and after some consideration, entered the familiar courtyard leading to the community.

  My thoughts were racing, my stride was relaxed, and I was in a good mood. So the sharp pain in my back caught me off guard. And when a curved blade exited my chest, I nearly howled — more from surprise and amazement than actual pain. What the hell was going on?

  [ ∞ ]

  Chapter 9

  THE CHINESE PHILOSOPHER Sun Tzu wrote that a war required a quick victory, not attrition. As it turned out, I wasn’t the only one who had read his works: my assailant must have done so too. His swiftness made this perfectly clear.

  Having managed to dodge the blow that should have killed me, I somersaulted and swiveled around to look at my adversary.

  The Darkest One — as my Insight had identified him — was my height. Judging by the appearance of his hands, he was a human. I couldn’t make out his face behind the hood he was wearing. Clearly he wasn’t planning on striking up a conversation with me.

  He stepped toward me and took a swing. I barely had time to stick out my hand. His knife’s blade ripped through it. My own scream echoed in my ears.

  [ ∞ ]

  I managed to dodge the blow. I think I even managed to graze the stranger’s side with my moon steel knife. But he hardly noticed. He took a better grip of his own weapon and started toward me again. I only had one attempt left.

  Another stranger appeared behind my adversary. Tall with chestnut hair, he was dressed like a Player in odd wool trousers and a leather jacket, but he had no name tag hovering above his head.

  The Darkest One caught my gaze. He swung around and, sizing up the situation, dealt a mortal blow. His knife pierced the stranger’s chest just below his throat. Immediately my assailant was sent flying in a cascade of sparks.

  My savior was already gone. What the hell was going on?

  “Either you’re a dimwit or you’re just greedy,” a voice came from the end of the lane.

  I turned toward it. The guy who’d just been killed by the Darkest One was standing there, alive and kicking and angry as hell. I could see that he wasn’t talking to me. As he raised his hand, it exuded a crimson glow.

  He was a wizard. I mean, anyone could be a wizard here, but this guy was the real deal.

  The threat seemed to have worked. With feline agility, the Darkest One jumped to his feet and took to his heels. Neither of us were inclined to chase after him.

  The guy came up to me. “Everything OK?”

  “Sort of.”

  “What did he want from you?”

  “I didn’t get the chance to ask.”

  “What a lowlife,” he shook his head. “Attacking newbs right by the community!”

  I was caught up in my own thoughts and only half listening to him. Now there was a text box reading Mentalist above my savior’s head.

  I’ve never been a fool, so I promptly put two and two together. The guy must have specialized in creating projections of himself. That’s what the Darkest One had just “killed.” So this Mentalist guy leveled up as a wizard. Yes, he was a serious enemy.

  “I’m Sergei,” I said.

  “Harph.”

  “Are you Greek?”

  “No, Russian,” he said with a laugh. “It’s just that experienced Players give themselves new names, so that it’s harder to trace them through their past lives.”

  Right, so that was why my neighbor was simply Hunter and not Nick. But Jan had introduced himself by his real name, hadn’t he? Well, he was also a newbie. He wasn’t a noob like me, but he’d become a Player relatively recently. OK, I’d make a mental note of that.

  “Thanks, Harph.”

  “It’s all right. Any self-respecting Player would have done the same. That guy is a scumbag. But I suggest you find out if this was just a random attack or it’s someone with a grudge against you.”

  I nodded. I had already started to think along those lines. I wasn’t that stupid, after all. He’d need a really good reason to attack me near the community. And he had a few. First of all, I’d killed a Chorul. Admittedly, no one had bothered to explain to me exactly what that was. Hunter would only say what he felt like saying. Secondly, I had a very cool development branch. No one other than Hunter knew about it. But if Hunter had wanted to kill me, even by proxy, he probably would have done it. That basically covered it. Or maybe all this ruckus was because of my Insight? No idea.

  “Love your fighting style,” I pointed to where the Darkest One had been standing not so long ago.

  Harph nodded. “It was Thunder from the Sky. When you level up Destruction to 70, I’ll teach you. Won’t cost you much.”

  Yeah right. Can’t wait. What wasn’t much for a Player would take this warehouse loader decades to earn.

  “Come on, let’s go,” he said. “Or are you going to stand here all night?”

  We started across the maze of back lanes toward the local community. Although we encountered a few Players on the way, none of them tried to kill me. One of them even nodded at Harph.

  Once we got to the square, we went our separate ways.

  “I suggest you go see the Guards,” he said by way of farewell. “If this was a random attack, it’s better to report it. And if it was deliberate, all the more so. See you.”

  I watched him go. I had no intention of going to the Guards — at least, not now. That would just set the gossip mills in motion — what could that newbie have that was so valuable that another Player had attacked him? Revealing myself wasn’t yet part of my plan. I had to consult Hunter and do whatever
he thought best.

  I strode confidently toward the Syndicate. It wasn’t very crowded today. Maybe I had again chosen a bad time, but I only came across about a dozen Players. Most of them were sitting at the tavern tables swigging beer, or something that looked like beer. A couple were hovering around the mission board.

  I went over to see what new jobs were posted, and got a lump in my throat. The location of the Chorul mission now showed our city. And the piece of paper had darkened noticeably. That was a bad sign.

  There were also some new missions available.

  Sewer swamp spirits

  Mission from the Order of Guard

  Charged with: aggressive behavior, attacks on commoners

  Sentence: death

  Location: Sewers in the vicinity of the local automobile factory

  Reward: 100 grams

  Young treasure ghoul

  Mission from the Syndicate

  Charged with: embezzlement

  Sentence: steal the treasure back from the ghoul

  Location: Samara Region, village of Sosnovka

  Reward: 1/3 of the stolen goods

  Mad Barnyard Keeper

  Mission from the Order of Guards

  Charged with: aggressive behavior, mass animal slaughter

  Sentence: Banishment or death

  Location: Vladimir Region, town of Gorokhovets[11]

  Reward: 50 grams

  All the papers were already yellow and shriveled except for the Mad Barnyard Keeper mission. The one for swamp spirits had gone completely dark. Something else that surprised me was that the Syndicate could apparently issue a mission without any chargeable verdict. Had embezzlement become a crime in our country?

  I gave it some thought and decided to take the Barnyard Keeper and swamp spirits. The latter’s location was right here in the city, and the town of Gorokhovets a mere 60 miles away.

  But just as I reached for the swamp spirits and touched the yellowed parchment, it crumbled in my fingers. What have I done now?

  “Too bad,” a dark-skinned Abbas behind me commented. “That girl over there is redeeming it.”

  I looked where the Player was pointing and found myself gazing right at an old friend: Artist_Chick, the girl I’d spotted at Tavern. She’d just walked out through a small door a little past the bar.

  “That’s where you redeem missions?”

  “Yes,” the Abbas replied.

  I wanted to ask exactly how that worked, but he’d already lost interest in me and moved away. Well then, we’d just have to find out through trial and error.

  I went over to the door, pulled it, and nearly collided with the girl. She sized me up in surprise, clearly not expecting to see me here, then floated past noncommittally. I was forced to make way for her.

  Never mind. I needed to get used to the fact that I was still a nonentity to the other Players.

  On the other side of the door I found a small office. It was filled with a large desk upon which stood a scale and a tall sharp spike with pieces of paper strung on it.

  “What do you want?” an orange-skinned man asked me by way of greeting.

  “To redeem a mission.”

  “So why are you just standing there? Give me the paper.”

  A snow-white sheet of paper appeared in his hand, containing all the information about the house goblin. I was expecting to be interrogated about what had happened to Bumpkin next, but the clerk didn’t say a word. He read the paper, took out another scale, much smaller, pulled over a huge bag and measured out exactly 15 grams of dust.

  “What are you standing there for? Take it!”

  I pulled out my little purse and transferred the precious resource into it. Now I had 52 grams in total. Translated into human money, it was around $604. But I didn’t plan on changing it yet.

  I politely said good-bye to the Syndicate clerk who didn’t respond, and went outside. I reflected for a few seconds, then went back to the board and pulled off the Mad Barnyard Keeper. All the other missions implied the need to fight, but I wasn’t yet confident in my combat abilities. I already had the mission for the devils pending, its low reward clearly suggesting that it wasn’t too challenging. Perfect to try my hand at.

  I went outside and started to wander around. Hunter and I had only breezed through the community, but now I investigated it more closely. In addition to numerous shops, which I didn’t look into because I didn’t want to inadvertently part with my precious 50 grams, there was quite a bit of interesting stuff, such as the residences: The Order of Investigators, Order of Alchemists, Order of Guards, Order of Merchants, Order of Tamers. As far as I could tell, that was only a small portion of the Seekers’ organizations. I was willing to bet that there were many more in big cities such as St. Petersburg or Moscow.

  Further on, there were a few modest hotels and private homes on both sides of the road. At the end of the street stood a squat building with an indecipherable symbol over its double doors: a large circle with a narrow border of runes, its center crisscrossed with a complex pattern of straight lines. At first I thought they were placed randomly, but then I realized that each new one jutted out of the preceding one.

  “Haisa, brother,” a voice said behind me. “Have you decided to go on a little trip?”

  I turned around and found myself face to face with Traug, the first Korl I’d ever met in this world.

  “Haisa,” I replied. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve come to the Gatehouse, so that means you’ve decided to go somewhere.”

  Right, of course. Traug had told me that he lived next to the Gatekeeper, hadn’t he?

  “Can we go in?” I asked.

  Traug laughed. “Of course. These doors are always open to Players.”

  I pulled the steel ring and stepped inside. Traug followed me.

  The place was relatively well lit by torches and bronze sconces filled with an oil-like substance. The place itself didn’t have the same domed shape as it did from the outside.

  I noticed a round annex by the back wall where the light was much brighter. Traug headed there; I followed.

  “Here’s the book,” Traug said, motioning to a massive folio on a stand. “You can check it for all the places you can go to, as well as their descriptions and travel fees. Then all you do is pour the right amount of dust in the bowl,” he pointed farther down, “stand in the center of the circle, touch the stone and say the name of the place out loud.”

  I was only half listening as I curiously studied the circle covered in runes. A small, flickering stone rose at its center. Behind it stood the Gatekeeper. He was one and a half times my height, wearing a full suit of armor tinged with blue, and leaning on a full-length shield. A closed helmet concealed his face.

  “But what if you put down less dust than you need?” I asked, gazing at the Gatekeeper with acute fascination.

  “Then nothing happens. You can’t cheat him.”

  “Is he a human?”

  “He’s a Gatekeeper. They don’t belong to any race. Accept him like you accept the sunrise or the stars in the sky.”

  “Can he hear us?”

  “Of course.”

  “That’s kind of creepy.”

  I opened the book and started to flip through the pages. Its contents were actually rather scanty. There weren’t a lot of places where I could go, and on top of that, they all led to Purgator, without exception. I guess we really were off the beaten path. Finally, the cheapest trip cost 23 grams. And that was one way!

  “Purgator,” I said pensively, turning a page.

  “It’s a shitty place,” Traug said, “stuck between Firoll and Elysium, so your choice is between a rock and a hard place. But it’s the only way to get to the central worlds.”

  “You said that you don’t go to Purgator anymore.”

  “Not to the large settlements, no. Too many Archali there. And in any case, I’m not planning to go there at all. You can live well in the Cesspit.”

  “Mm-hm,�
� I said, lost in thought.

  We left the Gatehouse 15 minutes later. In all that time, the monster hadn’t so much as moved a muscle, looking suspiciously like a statue. Traug tried to invite me to some woman’s called Elma, promising to get trashed, but I declined as politely as I could. I wandered around a little more, then went back to the central square.

  I waited by the community exit until a large group of Players moved past, and then fell in behind them. It would be much better to encounter the Darkest One in a crowd than alone. Although my charges had been restored, I had precious little to offer against him.