The Bad Guys Chronicles Box Set

by Eric Ugland

  “You know who’d do this?” I asked Matthew.

  “The White Hand,” he replied, his attention on the wagon.

  “Is this—”

  “Tattoo on the body.”

  “Oh.”

  “And they’re just about the only ones deep enough into kidnapping and selling humanoids to go to the trouble of making something custom like this.”

  “So I need to watch out?”

  “You always should. But if you’re asking about the White Hand coming after you specifically, maybe. Depends if anyone saw you with this.”

  “What do we do with the wagon?”

  “Take it apart,” Godfrey said. “Scrap it.”

  “And quickly,” Matthew said.

  Leofing had a large selection of tools he dropped on the ground with a bit of a clang, and the guys were on the carriage cage with a vengeance.

  “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Matthew called out to me.

  I nodded, and started walking away.

  “And be more careful about getting into strange carriages!” Leofing yelled.

  Chapter 120

  Both of my targets were near the Senate and the Imperial Palace. It made sense, keeping all the government entities close together in a world where instantaneous communication was rather limited. Fortunately, they weren’t on the same street. I was hoping to hit them both on the same night, but if they were close together and I mucked up at one joint, the other would be on high alert. Though I imagined that any muck-up would land me on the chopping block. I doubted spies were treated particularly well in a world like Vuldranni, what with the perpetual violence around every corner.

  I passed by imposing structure after imposing structure. The embassies were huge and largely utilitarian, eschewing most of the elegant architectural features favored in other posh districts. That meant getting inside was going to be more complicated. Which I didn’t like. I wanted easy.

  I posted up in an alley along Mahrduhm’s embassy and began observing it. The place had high walls made out of sheer stone. Climbing it would be a real logistical challenge. There were also pointy bits at the top, and given how they glinted in the moonlight, the pointy bits were in fact very sharp. Not exactly fun to land on.

  The building continued up above the walls, and I could see an intricate, copper-colored roof with a lot of angles, and unguarded balconies. The building to the left of the embassy looked to be offices, or maybe apartments, but a bit newer than the embassy, and decidedly taller. If I could get on top of that and make a really good jump, I could land on the roof. Granted, that would probably result in my sliding off and hitting the dirt, but at least I’d be in the grounds.

  I tapped my chin, wishing I had a good thinking playlist. Just a little hard rock to clear the brain. That was probably the biggest thing I missed from the Old World: music on-demand. A wealth of styles, artists, and whatever, all at the tap of a finger, blasted straight into my brainspace. Now, I was lucky if I heard a frickin’ lute in the corner of a tavern as I passed by. Wasn’t quite the same. Especially since I didn’t know a single song they were playing.

  I left the alley and took a lap around the block. From what I could see, the embassy had a single entrance, right at the front. A large iron gate for carriages with a smaller inset door for individuals. Inside there was a small guard shack lit with something I hadn’t seen in a while: a lantern. The flame flickered in the breeze. Two guards stood at attention, wearing shiny black plate armor and holding really long pikes. Which had to be purely for effect, because two pikemen did not a phalanx make. My guess, at the first sign of real trouble, they dropped their pikes and grabbed the wide-bladed swords at their belts.

  But after seeing the stable in the back of my bakery building, I realized that many of the blocks in Old Town had an entrance to the inside, sort of like a private interior courtyard area shared by all the buildings on that block. I bet these buildings were old enough to have something similar. And sure enough, there was another entrance down a few buildings from the embassy. It was just an arched opening, seemingly cut through a building. A few lights were on in the windows above the arch, which was pretty cool. And there wasn’t even a guard there, though it wasn’t exactly embassy property yet.

  Sidling through the shadows, I walked unseen into the interior area of the block. It was darker inside — no more city lights pushing back the blackness. There was a bit of moonlight coming in, but with only one of the four moons full, it wasn’t exactly bright. But with darkvision, what does that matter? Sure, it’s a bit dull because everything is a shade of grey or green, but what’s color useful for anyway, right?

  The backs of the buildings on the block almost all had large wagon openings, as well as large walls. All the gates were closed and locked up tight. Down at the far end of the courtyard was a singular figure standing just inside Mahrduhm’s gate. It was the only source of light in the whole place, and the guy had to be new because he was standing just behind the light, meaning he could see nothing but pitch black.

  I walked along, doing my best to both be quiet and appear as if I had every reason to be there. There were zero indications anyone saw me. Or that there was anyone around besides the noob guard and me. As I got closer to the embassy’s back entrance, I angled over to the wall until I was basically sliding along it, but I didn’t stop until I was right next to the gate. Still covered in shadow, I was only feet from the guard.

  Perfect position, if I only had a plan.

  I did have a little magic up my sleeve, though, so it was probably time to use some of it. I cast minor illusion and had a nasty looking ooze make its way towards the gate.

  Naturally, the guy heard the ooze first, then saw the ooze, and then had a freak out. Totally normal reaction. The guy hoofed it, running fast as he could towards the embassy.

  I took his momentary distraction to climb the gate. Its open iron bars made for a pretty easy climb, both up and down. Once inside, I bee-lined along the interior wall until I was safely ensconced in the darkness of a shrubbery.

  The guard returned with what I assumed was the rest of his platoon, making quite the racket as they ran, in full armor, with long spears tipped with a flaming substance. They were clearly well-versed in ooze attacks. Or, you know, just knew to kill oozes with fire. In any case, they charged out through the gate and made quite the commotion in the common courtyard.

  I took the moment to stroll right inside the embassy. The door the guards exited through had thoughtfully been left open, and who was I to ignore a wide open door?

  I entered something that looked like a mud room. There were small wooden lockers lining one wall, and a series of weapon racks opposite. It held big swords, smaller swords, spears, hammers, and a few things I couldn’t identify. Or, rather, I didn’t want to take the time to identify. There were benches in front of the lockers, and, another surprise, candles along the wall and hanging from the ceiling. I hadn’t seen a single glowstone.

  I had come prepared for this trip, at least in a tiny way, and already had a nail tied to a string all ready for detect secret doors. I cast it immediately, but nothing in that room. I wiped my shoes off as best I could, and slipped through the next door. It was a barracks, thankfully empty. For a moment, I considered pulling some of the dark armor on. I always liked the idea of impersonating guards, but I just couldn’t see it working in reality. Even in this new reality of mine. For one, I had no idea how to move in armor. I’d make a lot of noise and get noticed. Second, I knew nothing about the country of Mahrduhm, except it had just lost a fight against the Empire over a place called Rumib Pass. Which made me wonder what the heck was going on in the embassy? Were they ready to kill Imperial citizens at any moment? Was there any sort of, I don’t know, decorum in place for an embassy of a country at war?

  Thoughts for a different day.

  I could hear some shouting behind me, the unmistakable sound of someone being chewed out. And that meant the barracks was about to fill with irate sold
iers. I had to move quickly. I went through the only door available to me, which led to a hallway. I had my secret door spell going, just in case, and as I went along, I glanced at it as often as I could.

  As I moved down the hall, the finishes and decor got gradually nicer. There were plenty of doors, which made me think I was in a wing of offices for administration of some sort. I got to the end of the hallway, but stopped and pushed up against the wall. I’d almost walked right into the main lobby. Which had several people in it. The super quick glance I’d gotten showed mostly professional types along with some guards. Heavily armed and armored guards.

  Naturally, this was the moment I noticed my secret-door-detector-nail was sticking straight out, pointing into the lobby.

  Chapter 121

  I snuck another glance into the lobby to get better stock of the situation. It was a large room, maybe a hundred feet long and fifty wide. Staircases went up on either side, blocking off most of two walls. The last wall was where my little hallway came out. Obviously the employee’s hall. Taking up a fair portion of my wall was a sort of receptionist area, with a long desk that had multiple seats both in front and behind. A spot for quick business to be conducted, I supposed. On either side of the double doors that served as the main entrance — which was massive, by the way, soaring nearly twenty feet high in the air — were seating areas. Nice couches, comfortable looking chairs, and the Vuldranni equivalent to coffee tables. No magazines on them, though. There were some potted plants about, though none were species I recognized. It was quite bright in the room, thanks to three massive chandeliers, the first sign of glowstones in the building.

  Two guards flanked the main door. They stood ramrod straight, eyes front, weapons gleaming. But they also seemed like they were sleeping with their eyes open. A young man and a young woman were sitting behind the reception desk, but neither one paid attention to the world around them. Both had their eyes glued to books. Another guard leaned against a banister, chatting up a young lady. Some professional types sat around the leftmost couch, engaged in a hushed discussion.

  My nail pointed towards the side of the staircase nearest me. It was covered in panels of wood, with a tall, funky-looking tree in front of that, making access to the area challenging.

  No one was looking my way, so I strolled out, completely nonchalant. It was a bold and stupid move, but I really had no idea what other option I had. Still, maybe I had enough luck in my stat block, because I managed to slip behind the tree without anyone saying or doing anything. Never underestimate the power of being boring.

  I knelt down behind the pot and tree and looked out at the lobby. Nothing had changed, except that the guard seemed to be getting somewhere chatting up the girl.

  I pulled my door-detector out one more time and pumped some more mana into it, well aware that it was draining me faster than I would have liked. The nib pointed to a central panel on the wall, and after a little touchy-feely action, I found a tiny recess, about the same size as a fingernail. I slipped my nail under, prayed it wasn’t going to shove some sort of poisoned spike up my nail bed, and pulled.

  I heard a very soft click, and the panel relaxed a little, like it was no longer held in place. A little push, and it swung inward. It was a dark square that seemed to lead to a secret passageway. And not a terribly large one either. It was going to be a bit of a logistical nightmare to get my body inside, and I was rather concerned I’d make a spectacle of the thing. I needed a distraction, so I checked my mana.

  A little over a third remaining.

  Not much. Certainly not enough for another illusion. Well, not that kind.

  I cast satisfaction on the girl flirting with the guard, and she gave him a really wide smile, then leaned over to whisper in his ear.

  He blushed.

  Which caused the two guards to make some catcalls. The two desk attendants looked up, followed by the professionals.

  I slipped inside, nearly knocking the plant over in the process. I shut the door behind me as quickly as I could.

  It was dark and tight inside. One real disadvantage to darkvision is being able to see all the stuff lack of light hides. Like bugs. And spiderwebs. And dust bunnies the size of large cats. I felt gross immediately. The space I’d scrunched myself in was very, well, structural. A complete lack of finish work, really, which also meant there were plenty of nails, staples, and other bits of carpentry to catch on clothes or skin. So, you know, that was fun.

  I crawled along, sometimes moving to more of a slither, because the size of the passageway changed. I was definitely worried, more than once, I’d get stuck somewhere, and then have to go through the long, slow process of starving to death. But finally after an indeterminate amount of time (again I longed for a watch), I got to a junction. Up or down.

  Given the subtle stench wafting from below, I had a feeling down led to the sewers, at least in some capacity. Suddenly I realized why the guards were so well-versed dealing with oozes. I wonder if they ever wondered where all their ooze problems came from?

  Obviously, I chose to go up. There was something akin to a ladder attached to the wall, but it was more like off-cuts of wood nailed to the wall haphazardly. Very few pieces were straight, some were only hanging on by sheer nail tenacity, and most felt like they were going to give way under my weight. I tried not to think about it too much. There were also plenty of spiders to go around, tiny ones dropping down from above, and big ones crawling over the walls. All four sides.

  I climbed about forty rungs up, which, by my extremely rough math, probably put me somewhere on the second-ish floor, and came to another junction. I could continue up, or go to the left. Left was a much nicer sort of secret passage, one I could basically stand up in. I couldn’t walk normally — I kind of had to stand sideways and do a little shuffle step — but not having to stop and brush crap out of my hair was enough of a win for me.

  The dust on the floor wasn’t as thick as some of the other places I’d seen, which made me think this path may have been a useful one. My clothes did a fantastic job cleaning all the detritus off the walls as I scooched on.

  About twenty feet or so away from the ladder, I found my first, um, thing: a peephole. It was a very small hole blocked by a piece of wood. Lifting up the wood, and I could peek into what appeared to be a secretary’s room. An outer office, perhaps. I could see a desk, one that was rather messy, and a chair. Beyond that was a doorway, open to a hallway lit with the flickering light of candles. A second door, this one closed, was on the wall to the side of the desk, and I could hear someone speaking in there. Muffled and low. And it was in the direction of my little secret tunnel.

  I put the piece of wood back over the peephole and shuffled along to the side, going as quickly as I could. I had no idea what the conversation happening was about, but I wanted to hear some of it, see if this whole passage thing could actually get me some useful information. Another ten or so feet, and I got to a small bump-out with enough space to turn around and actually breathe. There was another peephole, this one with a small place to rest your chin on while looking through. I pulled the piece of wood away, and looked in. I saw a large office, really posh. Plush carpets on the floor, tall bookshelves lining the walls, and a roaring fire in the fireplace. Which seemed excessive to me — it was still summer. A large painting hung above the fireplace, of a beautiful young woman who was damn frightening in her severity. She had a small golden crown around her forehead, and was standing in front of a very impressive set of mountains covered in trees. It was like someone had painted her portrait on top of the best Bob Ross painting.

  A man stood in front of a desk, wearing what I took to be formal attire. A dark red robe with some heavy gold chains. He was reading over some papers, and kept looking over his shoulder nervously. A young woman stood by the door to the office. She, too, was clearly nervous.

  They were speaking Mahrduhmese, a language I’d so helpfully picked up during one of my strolls around the port. What was odd, to me at lea
st, was that I recognized it as a different language, and yet, at the same time, it hardly seemed like they were speaking any differently.

  “And you are sure these are accurate?’ The man asked.

  “Yes, your eminence,” the woman replied. “ I double-checked the numbers myself.”

  “They seem high.”

  “It has been costly keeping things afloat.”

  “She’s not going to like hearing this.”

  “Nothing pleases her.”

  “Success does. Victory does. She still angers over the defeat at the pass.”

  “You warned her of that.”

  “Hardly something she enjoys. I am lucky I haven’t been subjected to one of her re-education camps.”

  “I think those are merely myth. Something to keep—“

  “They are all-too real.”

  The girl gulped, and her face drained.

  “Fear not,” the man said. “As long as we remain out of the country, we will remain out of her direct purview. She won’t know what we’re doing.”

  “We are going to get caught.”

  “It’s nothing,” the man said, putting the papers aside and walking towards the young woman. “Love is nothing—“

  The woman put her hand up. “Not here. Not where she might be watching.”

  The man looked over his shoulder at the huge painting, and he nodded.

  “Get out, then,” he said, “before she comes. Better to be unnoticed.”

  The young woman nodded, but gave the man a smile. “She still likes you, I’m sure of it.”

  “Let us hope so.”

  The girl slipped out the door, while the man returned to standing over his desk and looking at papers.

  A strange noise came from the painting, and when I looked over at it, I realized the background was moving. Bob Ross’s fluffy white clouds blew across the sky over swaying happy little trees. It was an idyllic sort of scene, somewhat ruined by the woman standing in front of it. She wasn’t moving, yet, but as I watched, the paint faded and dissolved to become intensely photorealistic. It looked like I could reach out and touch the woman.