by Dmitry Bilik
“A mere fifty grams.”
Arts snorted but didn’t say anything. I gathered that she wasn’t going to interfere just like when we’d run into the Archalus, watching her two friends fleece me. Still, no matter how crazy the old man must have thought I was, I decided to bargain.
“Fifty grams?” I snickered. “For that price you’ll be trying to sell these oversized clogs for the rest of your life in these backwoods.”
“Name your price then.”
“Ten grams. And that’s only because you helped us.”
“The smudge of the ointment that healed your foot and hand cost ten. Forty-five.”
“Forty-five is the most you’d get for everything in this room. Fifteen!”
I didn’t even notice the moment when I’d begun to enjoy the process. I didn’t generally get satisfaction from bargaining. But in this case I really went for it. And it wasn’t because I was a penny-pincher or something. I just suddenly went with the flow. And the more I managed to knock the price down, the more of a buzz I felt.
In the end we agreed on 28 grams. A pretty good price for a pair of boots.
Your Bargaining skill has increased to level 2.
The moment I put them on, they predictably shrank to fit my own feet. I stood up and stamped my heels. The boots felt perfect — almost like they’d already been broken in. I was willing to bet they wouldn’t give me blisters.
“Put it on my tab, Tartr,” Arts said, standing up and heading outside. I only had a chance to nod at the old man. He answered in kind, clearly satisfied with the deal.
“Where to now?”
“We’re going back. We need to get out of here as fast as possible.”
“Where’s the Gatekeeper?” I asked brusquely, acting like I was an old hand at interworld travel.
“Over there,” Arts said, pointing.
I would have been able to figure that out myself if only I’d looked a little closer. It was a broad, squat building with that same unusual symbol in the shape of an intertwined circle, exactly like the one in Cesspit — or rather, on Earth.
No sooner did I point my healed and shod soles that way when two Players appeared before us. According to the text boxes hovering over their heads, their names were Bodyguard and Rock. What could this possibly mean?
“Arts, the ruler wants to see you.”
“Hey, we’ve only been here for 10 minutes,” Arts said, making a barely perceptible hand movement. I realized she was reaching for her sketchbook. “I’m taking care of his business. I’ll pop by to see him soon. Why?”
“He asked us to bring you to him.”
“OK, OK. Will you wait here?” she asked, turning to me.
The guards switched their attention to me. Which must have been exactly what Arts had been waiting for. She quickly pulled out her sketchbook with the hand already stuck in it, and tossed it to me.
I heard a quick click and then another. The guardians were now standing handcuffed. Clever!
I caught the sketchbook in mid-air and was about to run off with it when someone tripped me. Smart bastards…
[ ∞ ]
I leaped up, dodging the blow, and rushed after Arts who made a dash toward the Gates. The guards quickly recovered from their astonishment. Although the handcuffs slowed them down a bit, they were still close at our heels.
We barged into the Gatehouse and sprinted to the stone.
“Quick, get the dust out!”
“How much?” I shouted, in no state to converse calmly.
“Thirty-two grams.”
Without looking, I poured the right amount into my palm. Arts had already thrown hers into the bowl.
Right then, our pursuers sprinted in. We hadn’t made it!
But help arrived from an unexpected quarter. The Gatekeeper, who until now had been duly standing as still as a statue, took a step forward. He very nearly crushed me, so I had to bend down.
The giant stepped over me and walked out of the circle. “Attacks on Players in this residence are prohibited and punishable by death!”
Oddly, his voice was different here. Were the Gatekeepers actually living beings rather than automatons? In fact, this one looked a little shorter than the one earlier. Or else the Gatekeepers had already become familiar to me? Makes you wonder.
But our two handcuffed pursuers wasn’t in the mood for idle pondering. They flew out of the room like a cork from a bottle of champagne.
The Gatekeeper calmly went back to his spot. Even his silence breathed with a stern, mighty power.
“Give me your hand,” Arts said, looking toward the door.
If you say so. “What did they want?”
“I forgot to tell you that I’m in a little dispute with the ruler of the community in Vir... well, here. That’s it. Stop talking now. Sorrow,” Arts said.
I was cannonballed out onto another portal site.
I looked around. Everything around me was just the same. Nothing had changed. The familiar place, the same dim light, the Gatekeeper. Except for the fact that the door leading outside was closed.
Did it not work?
“Where are we?”
“Home,” replied an angry male voice.
Hunter stepped out into the light.
Chapter 20
ACCORDING TO MY Mom, children will never understand their parents until they have children of their own. Neither will teenagers listen to adults until they become adults themselves.
Before, I'd never given much heed to her words. Only now had the sheer truth of it finally dawned on me.
I could easily see the situation through Hunter's eyes — and I really felt like giving myself a good hiding. What else were you supposed to do? You spent days training this kid, telling him everything he should know in order to live a happy and hopefully long life, and he ends up pulling a stunt like this on you, dashing off like a headless chicken to Purgator — and during the Red Moon, of all times!
A good hiding? A kid like that deserved a good old-fashioned thrashing with a Red Army belt!
Still, Hunter said nothing. What’s more: he now seemed to have lost all interest in me. He took Arts aside and spent some time questioning her about the whole incident, then handed her some dust. Rather a lot of dust.
In the meantime, I walked over to the Gatekeeper. If the truth were known, I didn't expect him to talk to me — but I had no one else to ask.
“Last time I used this, er, Gate, I left some stuff here. Like, a bunch of keys, you know, and also some money and a cell phone... oh sorry, a phone is this thing that looks like a sort of rectangular piece of plastic-”
I promptly cut my mumbled explanations short as the statue threw its hand in the air. Not to slap the annoying human across the head, no. It was in fact pointing to one of the walls.
I turned my head and saw a bowl sitting in a small niche dimly illuminated by one of the torches. I walked over to it and looked inside.
Oh wow. Everything was present and correct: the keys, a couple of crumpled bank notes and the phone. I scooped them up and stepped aside.
Excuse me? Where was the niche now? It had been here only a moment ago! I reached out and felt the smooth, flat surface of the wall.
“Sergei? Let's go,” Hunter called.
I turned round. Arts was already gone. I hadn't even had the chance to say thank-you.
We stepped outside, into the freshness of the morning. I took in a loud, wheezy lungful of air. Judging by Hunter's shuddering as he wrapped his coat tighter around himself, it was way below zero. The street was deserted, if you didn't count the Guard who'd just walked past us. The Seers' residency, however, seemed to be burning the midnight oil as all the windows of all the stories were ablaze.
“The Grand Master's flying in today,” Hunter said. “That's why they're all jumping out of their skins to receive him properly.”
“How do you know?”
“I have my sources.”
“So they must be getting ready to go to the airport,
then.”
“From what I heard, the Grand Master doesn't trust mechanical devices. Also, there're things much faster than planes, even if the Gates are closed for some reason.”
We'd already reached the exit from the Community when I slapped myself on the forehead, remembering. I had virtually no dust left — and only had a couple of grand in local money[19].
“I need to change some dust.”
“Get on with it, quick,” Hunter replied.
I trotted toward the round kiosk. Despite the early hour, the scales materialized almost straight away behind the little wicket. The exchange rate had also grown a notch. Not much, only about $0.70 per gram, but that was still something.
Shame I had so little dust left. Only 38 grams, how was I supposed to conquer other worlds on such a pittance? Having said that, I already had the first inklings of a plan.
“Hurry up!” I heard. “The Grand Master will arrive any minute!”
The exchange kiosk was quite close to the Seers' Residency. It looked like someone in there had left the front door open a crack. In any case, I could hear the Magister's voice.
Something must have clicked in my head — don't even ask! — because I found myself heading for the building.
I was already approaching it when I slipped on the icy pavement and very nearly kissed the sidewalk. Or rather, I did kiss it and even dislocated my ankle — at least that's what it felt like.
Why “very nearly”? Simple.
[ ∞ ]
I gingerly walked around the slippery bit of the sidewalk, keeping an eye on the number of the remaining charges. Only 18. They’d only just started to grow after my lucky escape from Purgator.
Never mind. I had to be careful, that’s all. I only had one available cooldown left.
“Artan and Ulo will come with me,” I heard Magister’s voice from behind the door. “I’ve checked our route, there’re no nasty surprises there. I’ll leave Bular in charge here, right? We should be back in a couple of hours. Nicholas, would you please go and get us three mounts? They should be in the community stable.”
So they even had a stable here, eh? I didn’t think I’d heard any horses neighing. Apparently, I’d missed a lot when exploring the area.
Okay, I’d heard enough. I’d better make myself scarce.
Unfortunately, I didn’t get the chance to follow up on the idea. The door swung open, letting out my good friend — the one I’d been so unfriendly with during our first encounter next to my house — and whose face I’d roughed up again not so long ago.
I shouldn’t have hesitated. That was my main mistake. Never mind. Better late than never.
[ ∞ ]
“Nicholas, would you please go and-”
This time I had to think quickly. I couldn’t escape by running: they’d hear me. They’d see me, anyway. Unfortunately for me, this Nicholas was quick on the draw: he was already opening the front door. All I had time to do in this situation was grab the door handle and slam the door closed, then run for my life.
“My nose!” a scream from behind the door sliced through the matinal silence.
He must have collapsed where he’d stood, blocking the exit. That was a blessing in disguise, meaning no one chased after me.
“What’s going on there?” Hunter asked.
“Just some brawl next to the Syndicate.”
“Idiots. Just wait till some guards come and beat some sense into them. Come on now. We need to talk.”
I nodded, trying to slow down my racing heart. As we headed toward the commoners’ part of town, I must have turned round and checked the street at least five times. No Seers in sight. Even though I had no idea yet how I was going to explain myself to the Magister, I gradually calmed down. I’d think of something.
A deserted city is a beautiful place. The very first early risers, still groggy from sleep, were just making their morning coffees. A feral dog walked calmly down the street, wiggling his ears and feeling perfectly safe from humans — of which there were none, if you disregarded the occasional car whose driver was much worse for wear.
The city was asleep, bar two wide-awake resolute babushkas — one of them grim, with the X-ray stare of a customs officer, the other busy rolling her trolley bag. The two must have been heading wherever old ladies normally head to at this ungodly hour: to the hospital, or to the market, or to the other side of town to get that special-discount-70%-off-catering-size-bags of Basmati rice.
“Wanna take a cab?” I offered, watching the two purposeful old dames.
“It’s a long conversation. And it’s not meant for prying ears. I really don’t want any cabbies to eavesdrop.”
Either he had some special ability or he was plain lucky, but the bus arrived in less than two minutes. One of the two old ladies perked up and began collecting her stuff but the other one told her it was the wrong line. So we were perfectly alone in our seats at the back. The sleepy female conductor floated toward us like a frigate past a flock of fishing boats, handed us our tickets and departed back to her very special seat which other passengers aren’t supposed to occupy — at least that’s what the notice on its back said.
“Come on, spit it out,” I said, looking out the window. “I know. It was stupid of me. But I’m gonna find this sonovabitch Archalus if it’s the last thing I do.”
“You won’t. He’s a fly by night. When this beastman of yours called me, I went straight to the Community. It’s a good job Arts was there!”
“Uncle Nick- er, Hunter? Why are you helping me? Just don’t give me that bullshit about not wanting to attract attention to yourself. I could buy it then, but now everything you do disagrees with what you say. It’s as if you have some personal interest in... in me.”
“I do and I don’t.”
He fell silent. The pause was so pregnant with meaning that I turned toward him.
“He came to see me,” he finally said. “Before all this happened.”
I tensed up. “Who did?”
“The Chorul. He gave me the knife and the mirror. And... he told me how it was going to be. He told me everything.”
“You don’t want to say he wanted me to kill him? Why would he do that?”
“He didn’t tell me. I think he was following orders.”
“But you can’t order someone to die, surely?”
Hunter shrugged. “Choruls. You never know with them. If they did, they must have had their reasons.”
“Well, that makes me part of someone’s plan, doesn’t it? If only I knew who it was. They don’t seem in a hurry to show up and tell me what to do next,” I paused. “You. You did offer to help me. Why? What else did he give you?”
Hunter smiled. “He told me how I’d die.”
“He what?”
“Okay, okay, I’m gonna tell you something. Have you ever heard about the Oracle?”
“I think so. My friends spoke about him. They said he was the only one of his kind in Cesspit. They also said he wasn’t affiliated to any existing Orders.”
“He’s actually a Player — but then again, not quite. He’s a god — but he’s neither Wandering nor a Resident one. He’s actually the weirdest old god I’ve ever seen.”
“Why so?”
“Things like wealth or power don’t seem to interest him. With his abilities, he could live anywhere, in any of the known worlds. Still, it’s been years since he moved here and seems quite happy living in the sticks. Any Player can come and talk to him, but they can only do it once. And they never know what the Oracle’s gonna tell them. So basically... I too went to see him. It was a long time ago. This world was different then. You wouldn’t have recognized any of today’s countries or governments.”
I tensed up and pricked up my ears. Hunter wasn’t the talkative type. So when he decided to divulge something you’d never hear from other Players, you had to pay attention.
“I was young and arrogant. I considered myself the best Seeker ever born. I thought I deserved taking the Divine route
. The only thing I feared was death.”
“So you asked him when you were going to die.”
He shook his head. “No,” he said with a smile. “I asked him how I was going to die.”
“And what did he say?”