“Sure. Ah, you’re new here.” The shopkeeper clearly tried to decide whether to spill the gossip or keep his mouth shut in order to drum up more business. The first instinct won out and he huddled closer and beckoned them forward. “The Twins have won the tournament for the last six weeks. They must be as rich as the king himself by now but no one knows who they are. No noble house has claimed them and no one knows where they live or where they’ve put the treasures. And they always wear masks.”
“A kind of Battle Royale Daft Punk,” Justin mused.
Lyle and the shopkeeper stared at him.
“Nothing,” he said hastily. “Go on.”
“Well, anyway.” The shopkeeper eased onto his stool again and shrugged expressively. “With those two winning every week, no one seems to think they can win so they don’t spend money anymore. No one comes to look at my wares.” He gave a theatrical sigh.
“Oh, yeah?” The dwarf gave him a smile that displayed all his teeth. “I bet ye’ve had to lower yer prices, then.”
Justin watched, his lips twitching, as Lyle and the shopkeeper launched into a round of spirited negotiations—one invoking the power of dwarven might and the possibility of defeating the Twins to bring business back and the other insisting that if his prices were any lower, it would be highway robbery and he would starve in the gutter.
“Justin!” a voice called.
He spun, not at all sure what he expected.
Of course, what he hoped was to see Zaara again.
What he did see, however, was Tina with her Valkyrie tattoo and eyeliner. Her short nails were covered in deep-blue polish and she wore Level One clothes that reminded him vividly of his first few hours in the game. They were even covered in mud.
“Tina.” Before he could react properly, she barreled into his arms for a hug.
“Oh! I’m sorry. I got alley grime on your armor.” She pulled away, then frowned. “Also, running full-speed into plate armor hurts. I keep forgetting this game can do that. Wait, before you say anything, I’m fine. Your mother said to make sure to say that first and I forgot. I’m okay. I only came into the game to see you.”
Justin relaxed. “Okay. Okay, you’re all right, that’s good.” He looked to where Lyle and the shopkeeper had escalated their bargaining. The dwarf now loudly beseeched the gods to look down on “this most miserable and ill-equipped of their servants,” while the shopkeeper uttered pleas to “his dearest friend” to see reason. “Uh…let’s go over here.”
Tina waited while they trailed away, then looked at Justin. She swallowed and looked at her feet. “Justin…I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not,” he said and to his surprise, he realized it was true. “Tina, seriously. I’ve had a chance to experience a life I would never have otherwise. I’m scared sometimes that things will go wrong and I’ll die, but…this place is amazing. I was already scared all the time. I let myself retreat into my room and my games and I never did anything I could be proud of. I tried but I wasn’t who I wanted to be.”
She stared at him, confused. “Justin, I almost got you killed.”
“I know—and, I guess, maybe don’t do that again.”
Her laugh sounded a little strangled.
He chuckled. “That night when we went on the date, you made me ask questions about why I lived my life the way I did. I had become used to being the disappointment and I told myself that it didn’t matter what I did because my parents wouldn’t ever be proud of me. The thing was, that was where I focused. I never concentrated on what would make me proud of the life I lived. Here, I’ve the chance to change lives.” He looked around at the gorgeous city and felt something shift inside him. “And I’m looking forward to bringing that back to the real world. Our world.”
“Holy shit,” Amber whispered.
She realized she and DuBois were clutching each other’s hands as they stared at the monitors. For the life of her, she couldn’t recall how that had happened and from his embarrassed glance, neither could he. They withdrew their hands at the same time and cleared their throats.
“Ah…” He looked around and gestured at the team. “Everyone. Come see. Come see.”
At Amber’s urgent wave, Nick and Jacob dashed closer from their position at another pod and the assistants crowded around.
“Oh, wow,” Nick said. Mary appeared, trailing wires from her headset and haptic rig. “What’s going on?”
One of the assistants answered her. “He wants to wake up. He’s still healing but when he’s better, he’ll be ready to come home.”
Justin and Tina, both with trembling chins and unsteady voices, decided to abandon meaningful talk for the time being. After much throat-clearing and pretending to look in different directions, they settled in to watch the negotiations.
The theatrics did not disappoint. After much beating of chests and bemoaning the futures of brides who had not yet been married and children who had not yet been born, the dwarf and the shopkeeper hammered out a deal and Justin ushered Tina forward to look at the daggers. Lyle and the shopkeeper chatted like old friends as she brushed her fingers over the blades—and even cut one of her fingers.
“Ah, this set.” The man pulled himself away from his discussion with Lyle. “The lady will be most pleased—”
“If you talk to her directly,” she finished sweetly.
He had been looking at Justin but glanced at Tina, then at Justin, then at Tina again.
“I wanted to suggest, perhaps, something not combat-oriented. My lady does not look accustomed to the use of weapons.” He clearly struggled to not mention the burlap shirt.
“I’ve fallen on hard times,” she said and fell into LARPing with ease, “but I’ll have you know that in my city, my skills are well-known and I will also make my name known in…in…”
“Insea,” Justin muttered.
“In Insea,” she finished. “Now, your wares have surprised me with their quality. Suppose we strike a bargain.” She leaned forward. “You give me the name of a good leatherworker and the daggers at cost and in return, I will mention your name to my friends and not force you to bargain with this man again.” She gestured at Lyle.
“Who is this?” the dwarf asked Justin.
“I’ll explain later,” he muttered. He folded his arms and looked at the shopkeeper. He was enjoying himself more than he had expected to with this exchange. “You won’t get a better endorsement than hers,” he said loudly. “I had to beg her to come to Insea for the tournament. For weeks, she told me it wouldn’t be enough of a challenge. Only when the Twins rose to prominence did she think she had found a worthy adversary.”
People had begun to gather to watch, and he had to stop talking so laughter wouldn’t escape him.
To his amusement, Tina took up the thread without any prompting. “I lost my family to a warlord,” she told the shopkeeper and made sure her voice carried. “It took half his mercenaries to defend him from me, and with the winnings from this tournament, I will go back and avenge my loved ones.”
The people nodded and murmured.
“Now,” she said and smiled magnanimously. “To win the tournament, I must have the best weapons money can buy. I have looked at many stalls, but nowhere have I seen blades so sharp as this. Surely we can strike a deal, shopkeeper.”
The people of Insea clearly liked good theater. They clapped and a few sighed and murmured about the new challenger’s dramatic story. The proprietor, meanwhile, settled into negotiations with goodwill, apparently viewing emotional manipulation not as an inconvenience but instead, as an essential part of a good sale.
Ten minutes later, the group was on their way with Lyle’s fist weapons sharpened, Tina wearing the daggers, and Justin in possession of a new boot knife. By the time they reached the leatherworker the shopkeeper had recommended, word had already reached her. She greeted them like old friends and settled into negotiations for a full set of leathers.
“Alas, I have the most perfect set of armor,” she told T
ina, “but it will not be completed for two more days.”
“When is the next tournament match?” Justin asked.
“Tomorrow,” the woman said. “Only one team is willing to try to beat the Twins. It’ll be a poor showing—the Master of Ceremonies is desperate to get more entrants, but there’s only so much he can do. There’s talk of an ancient treasure being unveiled and still people won’t sign up.”
“So a team could sign up now?” he asked urgently.
“Oh, of course.” She lit up. “If the Twins win unopposed tomorrow, that’s the end of the tournament. But if there are more than two teams, the top two will advance.” She looked at Tina. “I have to say, it would be quite a coup to have a tournament team wearing my gear. And if you are in the top two tomorrow, I’ll have time to finish the better set.”
“Excellent.” Justin looked at Lyle, who cracked his fingers and gave a wolfish grin. “I’ll let you hammer out a price with my associate.”
“Since this city was built by dwarven hands,” the dwarf thundered as his companions escaped with a chortle.
“Do you think I can really get good enough to—” Tina started. She stopped when he cleared his throat meaningfully.
Two people waited for them outside the shop. They were almost identical in size and tall, and lean-muscled, although he could faintly tell that one was a woman and one was a man. Both wore their blond hair pulled back in a tight braid and wore metal masks over their face.
“Well, look who it is,” the man said.
“The vagrant in burlap who says she’s going to challenge us,” the woman finished. She scrutinized Tina and turned to Justin. “And an adventurer with no accomplishments to his name, I’ll bet.”
“I defeated the wizard Sephith,” Justin said and made a show of studying his nails. “But I’m sure that doesn’t compare with play-fighting in an arena.”
A deathly cold silence followed his words, and the crowd that had gathered to watch the confrontation held its collective breath.
“You want to challenge us?” she demanded. “Fine. Do it. It’s your funeral. Wear better armor tomorrow,” the woman said with another derisive look at Tina. “Make it a proper fight before you die, at least.”
They strode away and the murmurs in the crowd began.
“Justin,” Tina said, her voice entirely too level. “What in God’s name have you signed me up for?”
“Let me tell you something about this place,” he said. He gave her a grin and pitched his voice for her ears alone. “I’ve found that the best thing to do is team up with a dwarf who gives you no chance but to charge into battle before thinking too hard about the odds.”
Chapter Seventy
Tad Williams grimaced before he straightened his shoulders, plastered a smile on his face, and strode into the fundraiser. The group of people in this room was everything he had wanted to avoid when he decided to come to Washington. They were decked out in expensive clothes and talked seriously about how much they could afford to give to cancer relief efforts—as if they didn’t have thousands of dollars on their fingers, necks, and wrists.
His presence wasn’t noticed immediately, which gave him time to drift and listen to the conversations.
However, he had strict instructions from his aides to mingle.
It in turn necessitated small talk. He wanted to beat his head against a wall at the thought.
“Excuse me, are you Senator Williams?” A woman spoke from a nearby group.
“Ah, yes.” He looked at her and made sure his fake smile was on. Hopefully, he didn’t look like a psychopath. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“I’m Samantha Howley-Smith.” She held a hand out for a handshake that barely deserved the name. “I must say, it’s wonderful to see you here trying to help other children.”
There was no malice in her voice, only deep curiosity. His aides had drilled him on exactly what to say and how, which had seemed wise at the time. Now, however, he could see the evening stretching out like one long play and he was already weary of it.
“Families who are struggling with an illness have enough to worry about,” he told Samantha seriously. “They deserve our support.”
The words sickened him—not the meaning behind them, but the act—and it was even worse when everyone else nodded as if he’d said something truly profound.
“Don’t bring Justin up,” Kevin had instructed him. “Let them bring him up. To your face, they won’t repeat the bad rumors—you can take the good spin and run with it.”
“I don’t want to be too familiar,” the woman said now as if this weren’t the entire reason she’d called him over, “but I’ve heard your son is also…ill. I hope he’s recovering well.”
He pretended not to notice the way everyone in the circle and several nearby groups had fallen silent and craned to listen.
“That is so kind of you to say,” he replied and met her eyes with a smile as if he didn’t want to throw his glass of wine and run screaming from the room. “With so many large issues facing us here, I didn’t expect anyone to remember Justin’s accident. And thank you for your kind wishes. The doctors can’t give us any guarantees, of course, but his condition is stable.” He nodded to her as if he couldn’t tell that she was practically drooling for more details. “Now, tell me. How has childhood cancer affected you?”
From their stricken looks, no one wanted to let the conversation drift to the reason for the event.
A man cleared his throat meaningfully. “Ah, Senator—I, um…I hear your son has moved facilities. I have several constituents who have asked about securing treatment for their relatives, and I would love to know your recommendations.”
It was clearly a bald-faced lie, but Tad took it and ran with it. “I don’t want to derail the night, but I do want to thank you for your vote the other day on the classification changes bill. I take it your constituents called in with the same comments mine did.” He smiled at the man. “Between the costs and the classification changes, I am so glad we were able to get our constituents better access to care. As for Justin, I’m afraid I can’t share too many details.”
Anna Price had given very clear-cut constraints on what could and could not be said about the experiment, clearly wary of over-promising on such a complex issue. Accordingly, he now said simply, “We were lucky enough to find an opening in a clinical trial. It provides all the standard care for trauma patients but with a new therapy that’s been in the works for several years now. The company hopes to release preliminary results as soon as possible, but on a personal note, I can’t tell you how grateful we are for Justin’s medical team. They are some of the most dedicated people I’ve ever met. As soon as I have any details I can share, I will of course pass them to your office, Senator.”
It was a long, fancy way of saying not much at all, which would make it an excellent political speech, he decided.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he told them. “I see the director over there and there is a matter I must discuss with him. Ms. Howley-Smith, a pleasure to meet you. Senator.” He extracted himself with as much grace as he could manage and headed toward the director. Since he was there, he might as well learn about any challenges the organization faced. For all he knew, there were unique issues faced by pediatric cancer patients when it came to billing, and—Lord knew—he had experience in that area.
He didn’t reach the man, however, as he bumped into someone—or, rather, someone bumped into him.
Someone he knew, unfortunately, and it took every effort to school his features into urbane recognition.
“Mr. Metcalfe,” Tad said. He tried to echo the pleasant tone Mary had perfected in her youth while speaking to people she despised. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“And you,” the man said in the same tone. “A high-profile fundraiser isn’t where I expected to see a famously anti-corruption junior senator.”
“And yet,” he replied and managed to hold his features in a smile in case anyone was watch
ing, “I have the sense that you did expect to see me here—and that you contrived to bump into me.”
The lobbyist looked around. He held his wine glass with practiced ease. It was only half-full but he clearly hadn’t drunk from it at all. This event was all business for him. “Childhood cancer touches everyone,” he said musingly. “Everyone knows of a family who lost someone, don’t they? And a child, too…a completely innocent victim.”
Tad felt his blood pressure begin to rise. He took a sip of wine and noticed the glass shaking in his hand. The liquid burned all the way down his throat.
Metcalfe didn’t go in the direction he feared, however. He chose to slip the knife in between different ribs. “I suppose that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Such a nice, bipartisan issue. Give a few thousand to a children’s charity, offer a few sound bites, and try to boost those poll numbers. Those abysmal poll numbers.” He swirled his wine although he still didn’t take a sip. “There have been calls for your resignation, you know.”
“I’d take those more seriously if I didn’t know where they came from,” he pointed out. “At some point, you’ll have to face the fact that you went way out of your way to stir trouble up where there was none—and you hardly got a good return on your investment. I’m only one senator, Mr. Metcalfe.”
“Has it occurred to you that your refusal to support my employer’s bill might hurt your constituents, senator?” The man gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You never asked what the measure was, did you? Instead, you discounted it out of hand.” He looked pained. “We both said some unfortunate things. You thought I was pressuring you to do something ill-advised—a worthy worry—and I was offended by your assessment of my character. I do hate apologizing…but, please, accept mine.”
“You want to apologize?” he asked him. “Go out there to where all the journalists are waiting and tell them what you’ve done.” He didn’t know where these words came from. It was the wine, probably, and his aides would not approve. “I don’t want an apology, Metcalfe. I want you to undo the harm you’ve done and it’ll never be undone if people don’t know what’s happened in the shadows. You’re one of the best people to help because you know what’s been happening.” He pointed at the door. “Go. Go tell them all.”
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