In which everything is all about the holiday.
“…bird gets the worm,” I heard, just the end of the phrase breaking into my dream.
From what I could tell, Vika had said something else before that, but I’d missed it. I pulled myself out of the kind of oblivion doctors and smart people don’t recommend; if you sleep deeply and soundly after dinner, you’ll sleep terribly that night, and your biorhythms will be knocked out of whack for good. Our forefathers were no idiots, as they always took their naps after lunch.
“The birds are all asleep, already,” I muttered as I peeled my eyes open and snapped them quickly shut. Vika had turned on the light.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed, from where she was looking at me with a sweet smile on her face. Her tour of the salons had done its job. She was always cute, but at that moment, she was beautiful. And even if it wasn’t a knockout beauty, it would have been more than enough to get the boys at the office lusting after her.
“Who are you?” I asked. “How did you get in here? Although it doesn’t matter; I never mind meeting someone as beautiful as you.”
“I appreciate the flattery,” Vika murmured happily before dodging my wandering hands and leaping to her feet. “Easy, tiger! Get those paws off me! When we come back from the party, you can do whatever you want.”
“Immaculate beauty, and I can’t feel it up. What a shame.”
“Not in the least.” Vika jabbed a perfectly manicured finger in my direction. “You’re careless and irresponsible, Nikiforov. Your wife in all but name is here doing everything she can to make sure our family has a good New Year’s Eve, and you haven’t shaved or taken a shower. You’re too busy sleeping in an unmade bed, and you didn’t even bother to get undressed. It’s embarrassing!”
“Hey, at least, I’m sober,” I replied, grabbing at the first counterargument I could think of. “How many wives do you think can boast that? Wait, what time is it?”
I sprang up out of bed. Wow, I really fell asleep. It wasn’t five to midnight, of course, but it was already nine. Damn it, damn it, damn it!
“What’s wrong?” Vika asked nervously. “Did something happen?”
“I’m running out of time.” I yawned without thinking about it and stretched. At least, I don’t have a headache. “There’s something I need to do in there.”
“There?” Vika asked, pointing at the capsule. “Come on, Kif, can’t you at least forget about the game today? The party’s going to be getting started in two hours, and you haven’t even shaved, yet.”
“That will take me two minutes,” I replied as I walked over to the capsule. “Getting dressed will take another two minutes. What am I supposed to do with the rest of the time? There was one other option, but you turned that down, yourself.”
“And I’m planning on getting old with this guy,” Vika said sadly, brushing her hair back. “You don’t care at all. Here I thought we’d drink champagne together for our first New Year’s, give each other presents—that’s important, you know?”
It was a very good thing I’d thought ahead. Otherwise, I would’ve felt terrible right then. It would have been too late for even a run down to the souvenir shop. To women, all those rituals are really important, and they think them through, ponder them, make sure everything’s perfect. You always have to remember that. We men are the ones who are perfectly happy sloshing some champagne back, muttering something, and going to eat some salad until the president shows up on TV.
“Vika, sweetie.” I went over to the crestfallen girl and gave her a hug, being careful not to make things far worse for myself by ruining her outfit or makeup. “Really, I won’t be long, but I do have to go. You know as well as I do that I don’t have a choice.”
“Do I?” Vika snorted. “You never tell me anything. I don’t even know what you’re doing in the game, why it’s all so important to everyone. You could be lying to me—maybe, you just want a place to hide out so I won’t get on your nerves. Would it be too much to ask you to just sit down and tell me what’s going on like in a normal family?”
“I’d be happy to, only then, they’d have to kill you, and I don’t want that.”
“Them?” Vika nodded toward the front door with a crooked smile. “Or them?” Her second nod was in the direction of the window. She stepped away, her lips trembling.
“Or is there someone else I don’t know about?” Vika laughed mirthlessly. “We’ve had so many people after our heads lately that I’m not sure which of them is going to come away with the prize.”
“You can put a stop to it all with a wave of your hand,” I replied. I threw my arms up, realizing that the conversation had taken a serious turn. “All you have to do is leave me, making sure you do it publicly and noisily, tonight, even. If you do that, you’ll be safe. I’ll even talk with Zimin, and he’ll send you somewhere warm for a month or two. Or the Alps, if you’d prefer. We have the money for that.”
That thought had already been bouncing around in my head. I didn’t want her to go, but I didn’t want to feel guilty about whatever happened to her, either. Life without her would have been empty and difficult, but it would have been calmer. No, you know what? I’d really have a hard time without her. That was especially true where we were living—she was the only person in that building who was keeping my head above water. She was real, she was alive, and, in that sarcophagus of glass and metal full of secrets, pitfalls, intrigue, lies, hypocrisy, and vice, she was all that reminded me of the world I’d once lived happily, if poorly, in. If she left, I’d be completely alone, with nobody giving me a reason to try to pull myself out of the mess I was in. I wouldn’t even have anyone to talk to…
Finding a warm body to share my bed would have been easy; finding someone real, even if they were crusty and a pain, would have been a bridge too far.
But I did have a plan for what would happen if she said yes.
Elena would have been able to cover for her at work since she would have done a great job taking over for Vika. I wouldn’t have had to go to Kasimov, either. I wasn’t sure how everything would end up, though; if she decided to go, it would be for good.
Whatever, it’s fine. If she left, she left, and, when everything ended, if I was somehow still alive and well, we could decide if we wanted to be together or apart.
“You…” Vika’s lips shook; tears formed in her eyes. “How could you?”
“Wait a second,” I said, waving my arms. “First, remember that a lot of magic was done on your face, today, even if it was already beautiful, so don’t mess up what they did. Second, I’m just giving you options for how to get out of the line of fire—and the only reason I’m doing that is because I care about you. That’s it, I swear!”
“You’re incredible at saying something terrible and then explaining it away so well that I feel like an idiot.” My mouth practically fell open as I watched the tears get sucked back into her eyes without touching her makeup. How is she doing that? It was against divine law and the laws of physics. “But you should know that my patience will come to an end. Okay, jump into your game; you don’t cause any problems when you’re in there.”
“I’ll be fast, no more than an hour. When I get out, we’ll have some bubbly, eat some little grapes, everything the way it should be.”
“Bubbly and grapes,” she repeated mockingly. “Yeah, right!”
“I’ll be back, really. Champagne always gets me in the mood for fun.”
“Go, go, go. You have an hour, and then I’m unplugging that thing.”
She couldn’t have known about the batteries, but it was better that way. If she had, she probably would have just found them and torn them out.
Anyway, she’d given me the green light, so I was about to jump into the capsule when I realized I’d forgotten about the important question I’d been thinking about before I went to sleep.
It took me a little while to find Kostya’s phone number, but I found and dialed it, earnestly hoping he’d be at his desk
and sober.
“Yes?” I’d gotten lucky. Although knowing those computer geniuses, he was probably always at his desk and sober. If he was wearing his favorite sweater and had some cookies next to him, he was probably happy.
“Happy New Year! It’s Kif.”
“This is a surprise. To be honest, I have no idea what you could need from me.”
“Advice. Is there any point giving NPCs presents for New Year’s? Does that change anything? And what would you give them?”
Vika heard me as she walked by, and her eyes were just… They were as big as saucers. She wanted to say something, but she ended up just pursing her lips.
“Good question.” Something like respect crept into Kostya’s voice. “You’re thinking in the right direction. But yes, it makes sense, though it doesn’t get you anything like a reputation, which you can measure in points. It’s more about gratitude from the NPC. I’m not sure how to say it, though the AI does notice when you do things like that.”
“What can I give them?” That was the key question. I couldn’t very well just go pick up a lousy sword from a vendor, could I?
Kostya laughed, but I wasn’t sure why. Those system admins always have a weird sense of humor.
“Who do you have in mind?” he asked when he stopped laughing.
“Lossarnakh, Gunther, Brother Mikh, Brother Yur, Hassan ibn Kemal…” I paused to think. “Oh, and Baron Semadi. He’s tricky, but he does come in handy.”
“I feel like Vasilisa the Beautiful. Okay, log into the game, and you’ll have your gifts. I mean, not your gifts… You know what I mean.”
“That won’t get you in trouble? I mean, for meddling in my game progress?”
“Not if you don’t tell anyone,” Kostya replied, definitely, with a smile on his face. “Also, they’re non-player items for NPCs. There’s nothing there.”
“Thanks, this is a huge help,” I said sincerely.
“Sure thing; you can scratch my back later,” he grunted.
I hung up the phone and rubbed my hands together.
Vika was standing by the door, something embarrassing her. “This may be completely stupid… I just heard you, and…”
“Vika, come on, I don’t have time for this. What now?”
“Do you have someone in the game?” she finally said, leaving me to step back in shock.
I coughed, not sure how to start. “You know, sometimes the conclusions you draw astound me. Just out of curiosity, how do you see that working out? Forget the physical part; just the emotional side. A love story with a digital model would be beyond good and evil, wouldn’t it? I mean, sure, I’ve read books about love in virtual reality, and even about digital brothels, but that’s just books. I wouldn’t call people like that normal, either. It’s more clinical than perverted.”
Vika looked away. “But there are players there, too. Girls.”
“So, what?” I asked, starting to get tired of the conversation. “They’re just as digital as the NPCs. Actually, some of the NPCs are more organic and interesting than the players, believe me. But really, stop making up your nonsense and extrapolating it onto me. That doesn’t help either of us.”
I climbed into the capsule before Vika had the chance to come up with some other idea.
***
The holiday in Fayroll was in full swing. Of course, on the other hand, nobody was expecting the bells to ring, especially since everyone was in different time zones. While the new year hadn’t arrived in Moscow, yet, the players in Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky, for example, had already had time to eat, drink, dance, party, get some sleep, and log into the game. That’s what you get for living in such a big country.
It looked like fun in the castle courtyard. Circle dances were in full swing, people were singing and drinking, and the sound of laughter rang out. Above it all flew Tren-Bren, showering everyone in fountains of sparks. Does she ever log out of the game?
Hagen,
Nine items were added to your inventory.
Note! Remember that the New Year’s Eve party will begin at 11:30. If you don’t show up, there will be one particular woman who will let you have it throughout the night and for the next while.
Game admin
Again, there was that particular brand of humor. Vika’s getting popular.
But that was all details. I didn’t know why I’d gotten nine items.
I opened my bag and took a close look at them, all of which were glowing a pleasant blue (the previous update had added that feature—all newly acquired items were highlighted that way).
Everything was labeled with a name and who it was for. To start off, Hassan was going to get a book entitled On Disturbances of the Peace and Finding Yourself. Brother Yur was going to get a quill pen all the colors of the rainbow and a silver inkwell. For Brother Mikh, there was a set of brass knuckles made out of hammered silver to look like broken teeth. I’d forgotten about Brother Herts, but there was something for him, too: a similar set of gold knuckles. I guess Kostya thinks he’s an important guy. I found a new bridle for Gunther’s horse Duke. What about Lossarnakh?
Banner of the New Borderlands Dynasty
Non-player item
For Lossarnakh MacMagnus.
I had no idea when he’d had time to put everything together; scarcely five minutes had gone by since our phone conversation.
Okay, what else? Ooh, this is for the baron. Kostya’s people had a sense of humor.
Nutcracker
Non-player item
For Baron Semadi.
It was beautiful, too. The tongs, which were made to look like a skull and jawbone, swung against each other to crack nuts between the teeth. The eyes were made out of green gems, while the handle was a rich sapphire. In short, if I were in Semadi’s shoes, I’d switch over from pistachios to hazelnuts.
Two more gifts? Who are they for?
Shooting Ring of Gil, the second Count of Pem
Once, this ring belonged to a great archer of yore who won fame as an unrivaled warrior and strategist. During the First War of Hatred, he and 300 other archers stopped the advance of King Tvala the Dark’s western army for three days.
+66 to agility
+34 to stamina
+28% chance of doing cold damage
+22% chance that each successive hit will do more damage than the one before it (the arrows all have to be aimed at the same target)
-14% weapon wear
+8% chance of getting items from fallen opponents
If this ring is used with the Fame of the Second Count bow and the Faithful Friend of the Second Count quiver, then:
+10% damage to undead
+10% damage to bears
Cannot be stolen, lost, or broken
Class limitation: archers
Durability: 900/900
Minimum level for use: 100
It was pretty clear who the ring, which oddly, seemed made to be worn on the thumb, was for. But why?
And it was a set item except for the fact that it wasn’t. I’ll bet these “sets” are more valuable.
Finally, there was the ninth item.
Christie’s Traveling Cloak
This light cloak once belonged to a fairy who the Western Mark revered as the patroness of nighttime roads. Sadly, the little and intrepid Christie was killed during the War of Skeletons, when she sacrificed herself for a hamlet nobody had ever heard of by leading a large detachment of orcs into the Rotten Swamp.
+36 to stamina
+25 to agility
+18% chance of discovering traps
+14% chance of discovering hiding places in ruins and graveyards
+12% movement speed
+8% chance of disarming traps (after Level 40)
Cannot be stolen, lost or broken.
Class limitation: fairies
Durability: 450/450
Minimum level for use: 30
That one didn’t leave much room for wondering, either. Except, why? Happily, I was going to be seeing the
person who gave me the gifts in a couple hours, and that would give me the chance to figure out what he was going for.
Really, I had the impression that I was just a vessel, with him (or them) figuring the presents out on his (or their) own and letting me know what I was supposed to give who.
“Everyone’s having fun.” Damn it, everyone loves coming up behind you around here, making you jump. It was Brother Herts sneaking up behind me, with his underlings behind him. “It’s a shame we can’t stay.”
“Where are you going?” I asked, even though I had a good idea what the answer would be.
“Brother Yur rewards the accounting department’s best employees for exemplary work every year,” Brother Herts replied. “As he likes to say, ‘It’s m-more important that we-e reward good people now, even thou-ugh the finance-ial year isn’t over yet.’”
His imitation was a good one, and that sounded like something Yur would say, too.
“Brother Herts, I have a request for you.” I pulled the pen and inkwell out of my bag. “Please, give these to the good Yur from me. I can’t stop by today, myself, but—”
“Understood,” he said, taking the gifts smoothly. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it happen.”
I stopped the bookkeeper before he could use the portal scroll he’d pulled out of his sleeve. “One more thing, this is for you.”
I held out the brass knuckles. “It’ll go well with your calculators.”
A smile flitted across his face—he got the joke.
“Thank you, Laird. Really, that’s very nice of you.”
I could tell that he was surprised, maybe, touched. It didn’t look like many of their kind got gifts very often.
The same expression crossed Brother Mikh’s face when he got his present next. He sniffed and gave me a playful punch on the shoulder.
I didn’t give Nazir anything. He was a dark character, and you can’t spoil assassins. They’re all into asceticism, anyway. When the portal closed behind the order’s auditing commission, I saw him crouching on the ground, watching me. How did he know I’d be turning up in the castle?
The Right to Choose Page 23
