by Char Cam
“They have an owners manual? For a card,” Cryson snorted with disbelief.
“Apparently,” Sonetshea said wryly, tapping her hand with the card.
“Whoa! We could, like, buy a palace or something!” Elsbeth exclaimed with glee.
“No. Way,” Cryson scoffed.
“Yes, way,” Liaylaha affirmed. “I used to work here, remember?” she reminded them. “Before I could work, I had to be fully indoctrinated with a bazillion rules and pass a written test. Epic Card holders can absolutely buy a palace. And staff. And redecorate. And hang out with royalty. And tell them to jump in a lake...and the royalty would have to.”
“Oh. My. Golly gee-wiz,” Sonetshea grinned hugely. “Keep your eyes out for any unused palaces lying around boy and girls. We’ve hit the ‘big times’ now.”
“Just think though,” Elsbeth pointed out. “You three are both Epic Card holders and Healers. You’re right up there with like, the highest of the high.”
Sonetshea became solemn. “The abuse ratio could be staggering. Is there a check on that?” she asked Liaylaha.
“No. Well, the Designed Royals. And there’s no check on them...except maybe the magic of the land. If it chooses to interfere.”
“But that’s pure fan--” Elsbeth caught herself before she’d finished her word. The magic of the land was a part of magic that was almost considered myth. How could it even be considered? She looked around and remembered where she was. Strange beings and creatures walked among normal looking humans, but those humans were waving their hands and things...appeared--or disappeared.
Sonetshea looked at Cryson. He looked back tight lipped.
“Fantastic,” Liolith said, rejoining them. “Right. What are we doing first?”
“Well, let’s just look ‘round a bit,” Elsbeth suggested. “I want to get something nice for my fam…er, a couple of friends,” she amended hastily. She wasn’t sure if mentioning family was ’outside’. “Get a feel for what’s offered.”
“Works for me,” Sonetshea said. “You two know this place well, don’t you? Any suggestions?”
Liolith and Liaylaha looked at each other. “Murder Row,” they said simultaneously.
Sonetshea quirked an eyebrow. “Sounds intriguing. Lead on.”
“Why is this place called ‘Murder Row’?” Elsbeth asked. They’d taken Liolith’s mobile through a business district with its myriad posted signs of city officialdom: courthouse, library, council hall. Totally boooooring.
It was finally starting to get interesting though. They parked in a lot with a huge crowd going in and out of some place a little distance ahead. It took a few minutes to traverse the packed parking area, but at last they finally reached the entrance of the place Liolith and Liaylaha had suggested for shopping. Elsbeth looked up as they walked under an arch labeled Tally’s Market Row. Tally’s Market had been marked over with red dripping paint by the word Murder in big block letters.
People crowded and jostled each other here. Every race; elf, dwarf, brownie, gnome, and class; mystic, bard, warrior, mage, mish-mashed its way from building, street, stall, from on high. Fairies flew above the masses. Sylphs skirted in between. Pixies dived around everyone in games of tag.
Shops and stores ranged from kiosk to multi-level. Animated displays enticed customers with sales and deals in the biggest, while the smallest had the owner calling out services trying to out yell the barrage of conversation and other vendors. Some buildings wore oddly shaped facades; an upside down horseshoe with curled ends, a top hat, a curler sporting a fancy bow, a smiling turnip, a beer mug. Others were just blocks plunked down wherever they had been dropped, but painted garishly, screaming for attention like a spoiled baby denied a lollipop.
Before the gamers could decide where they wanted to stop, shrieking women cut through the cacophony of boisterous shoppers. Liolith and Liaylaha looked irately at each other.
“I suppose we’d better break it up,” Liaylaha said disgustedly.
“I suppose,” Liolith sighed. "Epic Card holders that we are."
Intrigued, Elsbeth forged ahead. Time to see about this new status of hers, she thought excitedly.
Two women were rolling around, jabbing and punching each other energetically while most people walked around them. Apparently someone had attempted to break up the fight by dumping water over them. The bucket lay on its side and a man stood nursing a split lip beside it. Some stood and watched from a safe distance and she was pretty sure bets were being placed.
“Hey, look at that! People are stealing from that booth like crazy while the kiddies play in the mud,” Elsbeth called loudly.
A communal intake of breath rolled through the crowd like a choppy wave.
Predictably, one of the women looked toward the booth. The other shoved her, hard. Both scrambled to their feet. A child, holding a squirming puppy, raced from the crowd to grab the shover’s leg in a death grip.
“Who dared take from my booth?” the stall keeper screeched. She was a short woman covered in mud, perhaps in her sixties and aging had not been kind. Elsbeth did not like the ugly look of hate her eyes glared toward the crowd like laser pointers gone bad. It gave her the creepy crawlies. The furious stall owner went behind her counter and quickly scanned her inventory.
“N-no one, Milly. We was all over here. Didn’t go near your booth.” a discordant voice spluttered out.
“Oh, my mistake,” Elsbeth shrugged. “What a cute little puppy,” she gushed at the little boy.
“He’s mine. You can’t have him. She can’t either,” the child said, frightened eyes looking at Milly. He was a little scrap of boy, perhaps five. He looked like he’d missed a meal or two, but the puppy was nice and healthy, bordering on fat and was about two months old, if Elsbeth judged right. The assumed mother he clung too was the worse for wear herself. She definitely had missed meals. Many meals. Most of her dark brown hair had come out of the bun she kept it in and it was drying into a hard crusty mass. She was about Sonet’s age, if one looked through the mud, and her milk chocolate eyes also glared, but defiance was her weapon and it was pointed solely at the old hag, as Elsbeth instantly dubbed her.
“Why does she want your puppy?” Elsbeth asked sympathetically.
“The pup is a full-blood Kindred Mastiff. She wants it in payment for stuff she said I took without paying. But I didn’t take nothin!” the woman spit out vehemently.
“Dogs pretty valuable, huh?”
The woman clamped her mouth shut.
Elsbeth turned to Milly. “What is it she supposedly took?” she enquired.
“What it to you girlie? Stay out of adult business,” was the surly reply.
“Ooooooo, now you’ve just gone and ticked me off. That was a pretty stupid move on your part.” She held out her arms and loudly asked the crowd, of which a large part now encircled the unfolding drama. “What do my clothes tell you about me?” Silence.
A gentle tugging on her jacket had Elsbeth looking down to find a boy of about seven wanting her attention. He was as cute as cute ever was with sharp grey eyes and a front tooth needing to grow back in. He smiled hesitantly up at her.
“Yer a Hunter,” he said quietly.
She smiled hugely. “What else?”
The youth scrunched his nose. “Yer a Lady!” he declared firmly.
“Louder young man.”
“Yer a Lady,” he said more boldly
“Louder still. They didn’t hear you in the back.”
Emboldened, he shouted, “YER A LADY!”
“That’s right, good son. I’m a Lady.” She glanced down and took the boys hand and gave it a good shake. “You can call me Elsbeth.”
“I’m Timothy.”
“Meetcha,” Elsbeth said in kid shorthand. “The rest of you,” she said loudly, “can call me...Solonaress.” Elsbeth felt a vibrating surge pulse through her. The crowd gasped on a single inhale and took one step back. Elsbeth turned to Milly. “Now. What did she take from you?” Hateful ra
ge contorted Milly’s face into a gruesome visage. Elsbeth secretly quailed at the sight. It was pretty good acting and looked very real. She remembered suddenly that Allon had said to treat everything out here as real--because it was. Oh. Great. Fine time to remember that. But she’d started this and she would by golly finish it. It was all part of the great game after all.
“Nothin‘,” Milly hissed.
“I don’t think I heard you clearly. Repeat that,” Elsbeth commanded.
“Nothin‘, you stunt-brained harlot of--!” Milly exploded, then abruptly shut up as if she suddenly realized she’d gone too far.
“So I’ve advanced past girlie and now I’m a harlot. Fascinating. And can you tell me, Milly, how many other people you’ve used extortion against? Because somehow, with the way people are afraid of you, I don’t think this is your first time.”
Milly couldn’t contain herself and spit toward her. It landed short by a couple of inches. “Milly, Milly. Just what am I going to do about you?” Elsbeth appeared to think for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “I know!” she said excitedly. “I’ll shut you down. That’s a great i-dea. Milly, you’re outta there. Bye-bye now. On your way. Off you go,” she waved.
"You can’t do that!" Milly shouted outraged.
"Oh, but I can. As Solonaress, I’m an enforcer of law, and you, Milly, need enforced."
“We’ll take it from here, Solonaress,” a broad man in an official uniform stated, coming to stand beside her. “Enforcer Barg at your service.” He glanced at Milly as she emerged from her booth. Her face now wearing a crafty eagerness. “Been wanting to do this ever since she stole the booth from Matty Fargas two years agone. No one would pass accusations though. They seem to think she has enforcers in her pay and they’d make a visit.”
Suddenly Barg went down hard, a cry of pain escaping his throat in a squeak as his arm was wrenched behind him. A knife clanked on the ground. “And they’d be right,” Cryson snarled and gave an extra twist to the pinned man’s arm. “You’re no enforcer. Just a thug dressed in a stolen uniform.”
“I’m the real thing, though, Deathgiver,” A burly man with a gruff voice said, pushing through the crowd.
Cryson gave him a look-over. Then said with approval, “Yeah, you’re the real thing.” Elsbeth didn’t even look at the man. She was busy taking deep breaths to calm herself. She was quivering jelly inside as she stared at the fallen knife.
In the game, when a player died, their essence split from their body and ended up at the nearest graveyard. Then the essence had to travel back to the body and reunite with it. Or a friendly healer could resurrect a player-- rez, in game-speak. That automatically brought the essence and body together without all the traveling. Somehow, though, Elsbeth didn’t think this role-playing gig stretched that far. She shuddered at the apparent close call she’d had from wearing a protruding knife as part of her apparel.
More enforcers pushed their way through the crowd. Some seized the pseudo-enforcer. Others did crowd control and several closed the shop and contained Milly with wrist and ankle restraints.
“No need to pass indictment, Solonaress. His attempt on you was witnessed and he‘s a known bully that works at Milly‘s orders.. A couple of her other thugs slowed us down. Be glad the Deathgiver stepped up.”
“Oh I’m entirely thankful Solonar Cryson was here. Believe me.” Suddenly, three pairs of arms swallowed her and anxious female voices bombarded her with garbled questions and comments about health, bravery, praise, and stupidity. Elsbeth glowed with happiness as ‘her’ Healers made such a fuss. It was like having three moms who were friends.
"...and just where is that cat of yours who’s supposed to protect you?!" Liaylaha demanded.
"Um...I sent him back to the stables, actually," Elsbeth said sheepishly. "I thought I might find a new pet out shopping."
"Wez gots pets we sells," piped a young voice. "My mom and dad raises Hunter pets."
The quartet of women looked down to see the young waif who held the root of recent events hanging from one of his slender arms. The puppy alertly watched them with his tongue drooping offside. The boy still clung tenaciously to his mother’s leg. Cryson, looking in Milly’s direction, face white and shocked, didn’t notice the by-play beside him.
"Hush, now, Jemmy. We raised Hunter pets. Not anymore." The woman was younger than Elsbeth had first surmised. The mud clinging to her had been wiped from her face, which was strikingly pretty, even with a deep half-moon scar circling from her left outer eyebrow down to her chin. She looked with trepidation toward Elsbeth.
"Why don’t you raise pets anymore," Elsbeth asked, concerned curiosity making her frown.
"My husband disappeared and supposed creditors he secretly borrowed money from came and took our stock about five months back. We were only able to keep one pregnant bitch from their clutches, but they found her and the pups last eve. The only reason we have this one is Jemiah took a liking to him and starting sneaking him into his bed at night." She ruffled the boys head and he grinned cheekily.
"We knows Milly tooks ‘em. She tooked ‘em all!" Jem said knowledgably. "She takes everything."
"I might know where they be," Timothy, who had been standing quietly beside Elsbeth, said jerking once again on her jacket.
"Do you now? Well before we check out your idea, perhaps we should find your mom. I’m kinda concerned she hasn’t shown up yet, what with knives and enforcers all over the place."
"That’s my mom there," Timothy said unconcernedly. He pointed toward the thickest group of enforcers: the ones escorting Milly the Extortionist off in chains.
"Milly’s out of the way, Milord."
"Really." The boss thought a moment then laughed boisterously. "Step up the timetable. I want everything in place by the end of the week." The boss didn’t notice the respectful bow of his minion as he left. He saw only the glory of the coming downfall of the royal family and the capture of the most powerful artifact this reality had ever created.
SIX
Liaylaha shared a look of dismay with the other women. "Timothy, we 're really sorry--"
"Don’t be sorry," he said diffidently. "She isn’t really a very nice mom, and the servants mostly took care of me. The nice ones anyway. The others pinched and kicked when I got in their way." He was so very matter of fact about his abuse, Liaylaha felt the horror of it more deeply. "I’m better off without her. Lenny the Needles taught me to pick pockets, for a cut of course. Now I’z can work full time," he said proudly.
Liaylaha was appalled. "Young man! You will not be living on the streets! You will...you will come live with us!" She looked helplessly at her friends. What was she supposed to do? They couldn’t leave him to fend for himself. But dear friends that they were in such a short time, they stepped up and supported her. She felt relief. She knew nothing about being in charge of children.
"Absolutely!" Sonetshea seconded. "And instead of one mother--"
"You’ll have three. And a big sister!" Elsbeth said emphatically.
"Not to mention the three fathers you've inherited," Liolith gleamed at him with amusement. "You’re in for it now."
Somewhere in the midst of the discussion, Cryson had tuned back into his surroundings. Liaylaha had been a bit worried when she’d noticed his shortened breath and white-knuckled grip on his jacket lapels.
Now he was back in the 'game', so to speak. He bent over and looked a wide-eyed Timothy straight in his eyes. Eyes that gleamed with the fascinated horror and excitement only a seven-year old could manage. Cryson squinted his steely, age-wise eyes.
"Should’ve kept your mouth shut, kid," he intoned grimly. "You might have escaped the clutches of this mad lot."
His body swayed slightly, and Liaylaha found a pretty flower display to admire while she gathered her composer. Liolith had just kicked Cryson’s calf, scowling for all her worth.
"See what I mean, kid? Who in their right mind would kick a Deathgiver... and a Solonar Deathgiver at that?"
>
"Ooooooo," Liolith growled and kicked him again.
Cryson winked at the boy and straightened. "Marry me, Woman. I adore you."
Liolith stared, shocked. Then began spluttering. "I...you...how...you can’t do that! It’s...it’s just not done!" she squeaked. "You...you--"
"Um... how bout we go find some puppies?" Liaylaha asked, coming belatedly to her friends’ rescue. "I believe Timothy mentioned he might know where they are."
"Humph, puppies," Liolith groused. She straightened her gown unnecessarily and pointedly ignored Cryson. "Puppies it is. Lead on, young Timothy. Let’s rescue the poor littleuns."
The bedraggled woman introduced herself as Tindra Dunlo and her son as Jemiah. They stopped at a sandwich shop on their way out of murder row and despite a bit of reluctance, she accepted the meal for herself and her son.
There was plenty of room on the mobile and they rode at a sedate speed, mostly because Timothy and Jemiah had never been on a mobile and the adults were afraid with all their bouncing around they might fall off. They arrived at the outskirts of the city. They drove only a short distance before Timothy turned them in at the beginning of a long, wide, scrub-filled lane with scraggly trees sparsely lining the drive like the last sentries of a lost battle. He had them park the mobile behind a thick growth of shrub three quarters of the way down.