The Way of the Shaman [06] Shaman's Revenge

by Vasily Mahanenko

  “If I’m not going to charge them anything, why should I pay you?”

  “Because you don’t have the time to make these pendants yourself,” the gnome explained calmly. “Since you need time, you have to pay for it by paying someone else. That’s the way it is. Twenty thousand per pendant—that is the price for which we are willing to delay our work for the nobility.”

  “Five thousand,” I began to barter, grasping the cunning of the Corporation’s plan. I needed to check…No, it’s better I ask Elizabeth what’ll happen if I ignore the players’ requests. What if not answering their letters causes my Reputation to decrease as well?

  New Jewelcrafting recipe learned. The Lovers’ Pendant.

  The gnome and I ended up settling on ten thousand per pendant. Ten thousand! Twelve thousand requests at ten thousand each…One hundred and twenty million gold! All of a sudden, I didn’t much feel like using the services of the NPC Jewelers.

  “Until you reply to a letter, there won’t be any issues,” Elizabeth said to my relief when I laid out my deal with the masters and my worries about the pendants. “However, if a Free Citizen personally asks you to create him a pendant, you must fulfil his request within two weeks or incur a penalty. You have created an Epic item, Mahan: Now you must live up to your creation. The master did not deceive you about the Reputation—for each pendant you sell, you shall lose 200 Reputation for every 10,000 gold you make.”

  “Erm…”

  “That is, if you manage to sell someone a pendant for thirty thousand, you’ll lose 6000 Reputation instead of 200: thirty times two hundred. Be careful.”

  “I see,” I said, disheartened, since the thought that 200 Reputation wasn’t such a steep price had already occurred to me. I could’ve easily afforded to pay it, several times even.

  “Don’t worry, Mahan,” laughed the High Priestess, divining how I felt. “In Barliona, everyone’s assignments are scaled to their abilities. Such is the principle of our world. If the Creator considers you strong enough to create pendants for anyone who wants them, then that is the way it must be. I realize that you might think that you’re being forced to do chores for the others’ benefit…”

  “Is that not the way it is?” I blurted out.

  “Look at the situation from a different angle. You cannot charge money for the work or ask for items in exchange—their cost would be converted to gold anyway and you’d still lose the commensurate amount of Reputation. However, no one says that you have to make the pendants for free.”

  “I don’t understand, Elsa. If I can’t charge anything for the creation of a pendant, how can it not be free? Unless of course…” The brilliant thought that Elsa had been guiding me to for the last few minutes finally occurred to me.

  “Yes?” the High Priestess smiled.

  “Tell me,” I began cautiously, afraid I’d made some mistake, “if a Free Citizen and his other half wish to establish a mental link with each other, don’t they have to first test the strength of their feelings through a joint quest?”

  “Go on,” Elizabeth nodded, showing me that I was headed in the right direction.

  “The citadel that is true love may be verified by so many different endeavors that it’s difficult to even list them all. But one of the key principles of true love is the ability to work together well. The lovers must prove that they are capable of remaining together even when their weariness causes them to curse the world around them and scold each other for drawing them into whatever mad venture they’re undertaking. No one needs Free Citizen couples who hate each other running around Barliona—much less ones who can argue telepathically. In fact, I bet that too much arguing will disrupt the energy field.”

  “That is correct, aside from the part about weariness—it doesn’t do to exhaust one’s other half. To prove one’s readiness, a couple could put in as much as thirty-six hours of work over the course of a week for the good of, say, the Empire or the clan or Mahan himself…whoever really.”

  “Elsa, you’re a genius!” I stuttered in shock, grasping the opportunities available to me. Twelve thousand requests suddenly turned into twenty-four thousand pairs of hands ready to work. No doubt there would be gatherers, craftsmen and warriors among them. I had to speak to Mr. Kristowski urgently. I bet he could find a good use for them. Even Hellfire, despite the fact that we were in the same boat, would be the first to earn his pendant. The highest-level tank in the game? Excellent! I imagine Clutzer could use him. And as for Mirida? Why, hunters were useful too.

  I avoided considering whether Mirida was related to my old man or not. Merely being Hellfire’s girl and being mixed up in this grand conspiracy were two very different things. If she was involved—a thought that made me shudder—then everything she’d told me about how I ended up in prison was pure lies. And then…Then I would really be lost. I had to be careful.

  “No longer than a week, Mahan!” Elizabeth reminded me again. “And no more than six hours per day. What they’ll have to do is up to you. I have no restrictions when it comes to that.”

  “I have a matter to discuss with you, Mr. Kristowski.” As soon as I left the High Priestess, I dialed my manager. “We have the opportunity to contract the services of a huge mass of players—and do it for completely free. Here’s the situation…”

  “We’ll need to advertise,” my manager concluded, having heard me out. “Mahan, you’re not opposed to putting in some work for the good of the clan, are you? How much time does it take you to create a single pendant?”

  “I don’t know yet. I just got the recipe. I was about to test precisely this.”

  “Time frames, I need time frames. Try to make it in five minutes…”

  I managed it in four. Since the players didn’t have to be present during the pendant’s creation, all I needed was their official permission from one and the name of the other. Hellfire and Mirida the Farsighted. After Anastaria and myself, this couple became the first in Barliona who could communicate telepathically. Noting that my Jewelcrafting bar had grown by 10%, I hung the pendant on a copper chain without bothering to consider how well Diamond and Copper went together. If anyone minded, they could change the chain. My job was the pendant.

  “Hello, Daniel! This is Marina.” A mere minute had passed since I created the pendant when Mirida called my amulet. “We need to talk. Let me come to your castle. I can be there in a minute.”

  I didn’t experience any particular emotion—it seems that Altameda’s secret coordinates were a secret only to me. Ordering Viltrius to usher the guest in to me, as soon as she appeared at my gates, I reclined in my favorite rocking chair and tried to get some sleep. When a girl says that she’ll be there in a minute, you can safely add an hour…

  “Hello, fugitive,” Marina appeared exactly in a minute, forcing me to doubt her womanhood. Taking a seat in my official throne, since there weren’t any other seats in my hall, she waited for Viltrius to pour her an Energy-restoring liquid and close the doors behind him before continuing: “It was quite a surprise to receive the notification about the pendant. At first I didn’t even believe it, but Hell explained that you made it at his request.”

  “Why aren’t you in Phoenix?” I asked her about the dumbest question from my list of questions. What difference did it make what clan she was in? I should be asking something else entirely.

  “There aren’t any projections in Phoenix,” Marina shrugged, “and after what we’re planning, there won’t be anything at all. If the clan of the burning chicken is to be destroyed—why should I join it?”

  “Never thought you’d be so bloodthirsty. How long have you been mixed up in this affair?”

  “Are you trying to figure out whether our meeting was an accident?”

  “Among other things. Last time we met, you fed me a pretty fairy tale—so pretty I even believed it. Now though, I think we can both agree that that was all it was.”

  “Barliona is not the place to discuss this. Wherever you are currently located, I propo
se we set up a secure line between us and have a conversation in peace this evening. Here’s the server IP. Login: Mahan. The password is the duration that I’d say I’d go out with you. Spelled out with letters, not digits. You do remember it, don’t you?”

  “In fact, I do—unlike some others I could name. Next question then: Why’d you come to Altameda? We could’ve discussed all of this over the amulet.”

  “Because tomorrow we will set out for Armard and we need to get ready. That’s right: I said ‘we.’ And no need to look at me like that! We’ll hammer out the details tonight. Have you tried to restore the dagger?”

  “When?”

  “I see. I’m guessing you didn’t read the properties of the Unifier either, right?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Well, pull it out. Let’s see what the devs have laid in store for us.”

  Unifier. Description: Allows the restoration of any broken item, if you have more than 75% of the original. Required ingredients: 10 ingots of Imperial Steel, 10 pieces of Imperial Oak, 10 bouquets of Imperial Lilly, 10 particles of Light. Item class: Epic. Number of charges remaining: 3.

  “I have the Imperial ingredients in my stores,” I muttered pensively after reading the description. “But I have no idea what a particle of Light is or where I can find it. Any suggestions?”

  “Yes, I’ve heard of this thing,” Mirida replied, rummaging in her bag. “If you do a daily quest for any NPC for ten days straight, he’ll give you a letter of recommendation. You can then give the letter to the Mayor and gain Reputation, or you can keep it, collect ten and then give them to the High Mage. In return, he’ll give you a Crystal of Knowledge that you can take to the masters’ guild. Or you can keep it, collect five of those and then give it to any Herald in exchange for a particle of Light. I found out about this by accident,” Mirida concluded, producing five small, shining stars from her bag.

  “You completed five thousand quests?!” I exclaimed with astonishment, after counting up Mirida’s efforts.

  “Well, as with everything else, you can skip the drudge work and simply buy the particles—but I don’t have that kind of money.”

  “How much does one particle cost?”

  “Five million. In Barliona, the price of any essential thing is a multiple of millions. It’s as if the Corp doesn’t know about any other number. Do you want to be able to fly? Just pay a million. Want to respawn six hours faster? Just pay a million. Want to buy a particle of Light? Be so kind and just pay five million…”

  “All right, can we move on from the Corp’s financial policies?” I interrupted Mirida. “Let’s restore the dagger. Only, I suggest we do it outside of the castle. If we pull out an item of Shadow, all my guards will attack us.”

  The Unifier worked as advertised. After placing the dagger’s blade on the hilt, I touched them with the Unifier, confirmed that I wanted to restore the item in question at the cost of one charge, and then went momentarily blind from the bright flash. When the stars faded from my vision and I regained my sight, I beheld a painfully familiar item, whose double I’d used to kill an immense number of people. Lying at my feet, the dagger of Geranika seeped a sinister fog onto the glade around us.

  You have acquired the ‘Shadow Dagger of Teleportation.’ Use: Opens portal to the Armard palace in the Empire of Shadow. Item class: Unique.

  The negative aura of this item was so powerful that, in no time at all, not a single green tree survived within a radius of a hundred meters around us. The earth grew black, the trees shriveled to gnarled skeletons and, meanwhile, the fog continued to seep further and further, turning the forest around us into a part of the cursed Dark Forest. It was terrible to imagine what could’ve happened to my castle if we’d performed the unification inside of it.

  “A powerful magic,” Marina remarked, shaking her head in satisfaction. “I propose we sneak into one of Phoenix’s castles. I’ll bring some Mages tomorrow to charge the dagger.”

  “Will they be from Phoenix too?” I couldn’t bridle my sarcasm.

  “Donotpunnik and Hellfire will come with us,” Marina went on, ignoring my barb. “The four of us will manage to sneak into the needed place.”

  Donotpunnik? Where’d he come from?

  “The five of us,” I tossed in my two cents, after suppressing my surprise at the Azure’s mention. “Plinto’s coming with us too.”

  “No!” Mirida cut me off. “Until we acquire the Tears, neither Plinto nor anyone else who has the opportunity or desire to share information with Phoenix will come with us. We didn’t spend all this time planning this operation only to reveal it to Anastaria’s lapdog at the last moment.”

  “WHAT?!”

  “What you heard! Plinto has always been, is and will always be Anastaria’s man. Whatever he says, whatever he does—Phoenix owns him down to his little toe…Do you need proof? You’ll see it this evening. Just make sure to get in touch. I mean, Anastaria’s his son’s godmother! Who do you think he works for? Any more questions?”

  “We’ll need him in Armard,” I said in a hollow voice. Even though, deep inside, the last vestiges of my belief in humanity had been dashed to pieces, I still didn’t want to turn on my own clan. Plinto had to save the Emperor’s wife and earn us additional bonuses. STOP! Why do I believe Marina at all? After her fable about my imprisonment, she’s the last person that deserves my trust. Accordingly, what she’s saying about Plinto could be a lie too.

  “I can see you don’t believe me. Fine. I call the Emperor as my witness to the truth of my words: Anastaria asked Plinto to come to an arrangement with you not to destroy the Legends of Barliona, since, as she put it, she needed it! Further, Anastaria is the godmother of his son. I permit the system to scan my memory. When Plinto was a member of the Dark Legion he regularly received directions from Anastaria about what to do in one situation or another…Is that enough for you to trust me?” Marina asked, smiling, as the white flame of truth engulfed her for a few moments. The Emperor had confirmed the girl’s claims.

  “That doesn’t make him a lapdog,” I insisted, despite the cracks that had appeared in my trust of the Rogue. “He needs to go to Armard for something other than the Tears. As soon as we reach the palace, he’ll go off on his business. If we’re lucky, Plinto will aggro most of the guards and our mission will be all the simpler for it. That is, if there are even guards in Armard, I suppose…”

  “Of course there are guards in Armard. How could there not be? All right, I’ll think about it. Any more requests? Are we taking anyone else?”

  “Do you have any issues with Clutzer?” I asked as my heart skipped a beat. I had finally obtained a unique opportunity to discover the truth about my Raid Leader, so I couldn’t not use it. If he works for Anastaria too, then…

  “His level is far too low,” Marina shook her head, clearly offering her best argument against my Rogue.

  “It’s quite a bit higher than yours,” I parried. Did she really have nothing on Clutzer?

  “He’s an ex-con.”

  “As am I, but you’re taking me.”

  “All right, I’ll let you know about Clutzer this evening too. Anything else?”

  “That’s it. You, Hellfire, Donotpunnik, Clutzer and me are the squad after the Tears. Plinto’s after the wife of the Emperor.”

  “Who?” Mirida asked with surprise.

  “It’s a class quest for Rogues. Even if Plinto really is working for Anastaria, let him at least help my clan.”

  “STOP, YOU FOOLS!” The forest Guardian butted into our conversation, appearing to protect his domain from Shadow. The enormous Oak stopped at the perimeter ravished by the dagger, hesitating to set root on it. “YOU KNOW NOT WHAT YOU DO!”

  “You have a jammer for Shadow items,” said Marina, ignoring him and revealing how well apprised she was. “See if it works on the dagger…”

  “I think it does,” I concluded, tossing the dagger in my bag. The fog vanished almost instantly, green grass began to sprout through the
soil, and the trees straightened out creaking and regaining their dense crowns. In the person of the Guardian, Barliona’s nature was carefully licking the wound caused by the dagger of Shadow.

  “We’ll talk tonight on the secure channel,” Marina repeated, casting a mocking glance at the angry Guardian who was busy straightening out his trees—then she dissolved, exiting to reality.

  Okay, the time had come to have a good think on the topic of ‘What the hell am I getting into?’ But before that, I need to set up the comm channel. I’m incredibly curious to see what Marina will have for me…

  I had no problems setting up the connection. The Omega operator confirmed the address and the port and literally ten minutes later the inscription ‘Meeting at 20:00’ appeared on my PC screen.

  There was still plenty of time until then, so I opened the internet browser and began to brush up on my history. The history of Daniel Mahan.

  The doom of waste collectors…A dirty day for the imitators…Hacker v. Imitator: 1–0…

  The headlines about my feat of a year and a half ago struck me with their variety, though the content of their articles didn’t offer much more substance. If you ignored the incessant anti-Imitator propaganda, there wasn’t really much there—some guy did something, was punished and imprisoned so that others wouldn’t ape him. The outrage and calls for blood had lasted only the first week until I surrendered myself. As soon as my trial began, everyone calmed down and forgot all about me. Which is a good thing—I’d rather not be remembered as the guy who trashed the city for the rest of my life.

  What made me most nervous, however, was that Marina wasn’t registered as a freelance artist anywhere. There were plenty of Marinas in the circles of those who looked for exploits in Barliona, but not one of them resembled the beauty that appeared at training 18 months ago. Moreover, the Corporation’s official list of participants to the retraining for that ill-fated day contained no mention of a Marina either. Either she was never invited or she bypassed the official registration or I’m missing something here. A basic search unearthed Marina’s previous training and the courses she had completed. After all was said and done, I had used precisely this information to develop my hack—and yet all the courses were marked as lasting until ‘TBA.’ Following the hack of the waste collector, Marina vanished from the web, turning into a ghost. On the off chance that I would recognize her from a photo, I combed through a list of anyone doing any retraining whatsoever on the day of our wager. Of these 138 women, some were registered as freelance artists and some weren’t, yet not a single one of them looked like my acquaintance. Marina did not exist.