Fayroll [04] Gong and Chalice

by Andrey Vasilyev

  “And you said we’d be unlucky today,” I said to Lane reproachfully. “See? It’s not all bad.”

  “That depends on what you compare it to,” Lane replied philosophically. “And the day’s not over yet.”

  ***

  We stepped out of the portal on the edge of the jungle. Half a mile away, the blue ribbon of a river wound its way under the sun, and some familiar fenced-in barracks lined its banks.

  “That’s the Second Company,” Lane said, rubbing his hands in satisfaction.

  “Thanks,” Danoot replied begrudgingly.

  Funny how that works, no? Just half an hour ago you wanted to cut our throats, and here we saved your lives. His whole world had to be turning upside down, and that couldn’t have been easy. I was glad he had enough conscience to spare us—perhaps he wasn’t completely a lost cause.

  “Yes, thank you so much,” the mage said, apparently oblivious to the whole thing. He lived simply, like a bird on a branch, and his ideals seemed to be guided by the principles of justice and injustice; intriguing and not so much.

  “Don’t worry about it,” muttered Lane. “Let me repeat that piece of advice: stop playing the fool, and find something useful to do.”

  “Oh, let them live the way they want to.” Ping obviously wanted to wrap things up to avoid missing out on a few drinks after everything we’d been through.

  Lane threw up his arms and started walking toward the Second Company’s base. The brothers bounded after him.

  “Mage, by the way,” I said to Vaylerius as he waved to us, all ready to dive into the thick mess of vines with Danoot, “how can I find you? If I need something, I mean.”

  “What would you need from him?” Danoot asked with a hostile tone in his voice, looking me over suspiciously as he did. “What could the two of you have in common?”

  “Don’t worry,” I replied. “I don’t think I’ll need him; it’s more his mom I’d be looking for. Life has a tricky way about it, and I might be able to do the family a service.”

  Why not? If the ring was hers, it would have been a shame not to cash in. All it would cost me was a few scrolls, and that could very well have been worth the reward, so long as I had the time.

  “You got to the temple via the village. Next time just walk into it, show your face, and then wait on the outskirts by the field. We’ll find you ourselves,” Danoot replied before letting me know that the conversation was over by walking into the jungle. Vaylerius smiled sheepishly, waving goodbye and following Danoot.

  “Oh, bella ciao,” I sang, shaking my head and turning to run after my squad mates.

  ***

  I didn’t go to Maykong, logging out of the game instead when I saw a less-than-sober Grokkh circling me at our base like some kind of vulture. I didn’t know what might come into his green head, and I was worried it could be anything from putting me on guard duty to killing me…

  Once out of the game, I sat down in a chair and thought to myself where I should go next and what I should do when I got there. Sure, I had the bare minimum of a “where” plan ready—I needed to wrap things up with the cursed temple and finish the dryad’s quest. I had no idea what would happen after that though, and I could only suspect that it wouldn’t end there. The quest, Zimin (or Valyaev?) had told me back in the summer, was a way to bring back the gods, and so I assumed I’d have to be the one in charge of that. Though of course, that wasn’t a given, and there were other options.

  But what about when? Tomorrow? No, that doesn’t work. First of all, I had to show up to the office—we still had another issue to put together. Second, I had a date with a beautiful femme fatale. And there was no way I could tell what would happen with the temple. Beating it might be quick, but I could have to wait for who-knows-what afterward. I also didn’t know what we’d encounter on the way there—the trip might end up being much less smooth than the ones we’d had to date. And so… Wait, is our dinner still on? I should…

  I picked up my phone and dialed Vezhleva’s number.

  “My dear sir,” she said in place of a greeting, “if you are calling to cancel our plans for tomorrow, I will put a curse on you, and then I will throw myself from the ninth floor like from a tower into the sea. Then my disembodied spirit will appear to you every night, waving a finger under your nose and hissing abominably.”

  “To the contrary, my lovely lady,” I replied in kind, “I called to inform you that nothing has changed regarding tomorrow’s rendezvous. The thought of it and it alone is all that has kept me alive through these dreadful, empty, and melancholy nights.”

  “Oh yes? The kid from the office does that little to brighten your life?” she said a bit sarcastically. “Ay-ay-ay, I should take her under my wing and show her a thing or two. A man could languish away to nothing like that…”

  She always had something to say, and I had a whole evening with her ahead of me.

  “I can smack her into shape myself.” Damn it, I walked right into that, I thought, judging by the giggling coming from the other end of the line. Two adults, and we’re talking like first-graders. Thanks a lot, Zimin…

  “Aren’t you the naughty boy,” Vezhleva squeaked in a thin voice.

  “Oh, that’s me. Anyway, I just wanted to ask if I should pick up like we planned. At Raidion, around seven?”

  “Of course,” Marina replied, this time in her usual voice. “You’re not getting out of this, I can tell you that much. I’ll see you at seven.”

  And with that, she hung up.

  Well, the snake in the game was digital, and, regardless of what I might have felt, there was a 99% chance that it wouldn’t have been able to do any real-life damage to me no matter how much venom I got out of it. But that woman, I knew, could swallow me whole without thinking twice. It wasn’t a great situation, and the worst thing was that I wasn’t getting anything out of it—I didn’t need anything from her. She did need something from me, on the other hand, and I was chafing under the burden of having no idea what it was.

  I googled her, found some links, enjoyed a few very nice, if touched-up pictures, read a few articles about her and a couple she’d written, and was sincerely surprised to see that she’d studied at a prestigious American university. The degree she’d gotten there, in addition to the ever-so-predictable degree from Moscow State University, was in economics, and she’d also gotten a law degree in the UK. She must be an incredible worker. How did she find the time? I would have had to be an inveterate romantic or a complete idiot to believe that a woman like that would actually be interested in someone like me. Although, okay, I am from Moscow. And I’m a newspaper editor.

  Clearing my mind of those thoughts and concluding that I needed to be awfully careful, I decided to get something to eat. I wanted something good, and we always had something in the fridge. The dark days were in the rearview mirror. I should note that Vika pushed back for quite a while when I told her that she should take money for groceries from the jar that I’d labeled “The Most Reliable Jar for Storing Money,” but she gave in eventually. From that moment on, the refrigerator was never empty.

  Before that, however, I figured I could take care of one more thing. I picked up my phone and dialed Azov, the head of security at Raidion.

  “Hi, Ilya, it’s Nikiforov. I’m the one with the Impala that was stolen,” I said, a bit awkwardly.

  “Good afternoon, Harriton—”

  “Just Kif,” I interrupted. “I’m more used to that.”

  “Good afternoon, Kif.” I could feel Azov smile.

  “I’m just calling to say thank you,” I said briskly. “I owe you a drink and a donut!”

  “A donut sounds great. Although it won’t be like the donuts we used to have; they don’t make those anymore,” Azov replied nostalgically.

  “So where did you find the car?” I asked, intrigued to hear what he might say. “Somewhere up in the mountains?”

  “No, actually,” Azov replied. “We found it in a train car on its way to Tajikistan
.”

  “On its way to where?” I asked in surprise.

  “You know, I was surprised, too.” Azov was only too happy to tell me about the successful operation. “One of their bigwigs was here in Moscow, happened to see you in it, and decided he wanted one for himself. They don’t have a lot of patience, and he has plenty of money, so making off with yours was the easiest option. Then they loaded it into a car, fitted a bunch of safety measures, and trundled it off slowly back to where we get all our utility workers from.”

  “Crazy,” was all I could say, as I decided not to pry into how he’d actually been able to get his hands on the car.

  “Well, all’s well that ends well.” Azov wasn’t in a hurry to spill his secrets either. “How are things with you? Everything good?”

  “Absolutely, knock on wood,” I replied, superstitiously spitting over my shoulder. “I’m headed to Bacchus’s Barrel tomorrow.”

  “To the Barrel?” Azov asked. “With one of ours?”

  “Yes, Vezhleva,” I replied, quietly waiting for his reaction.

  Azov paused for a second before chuckling quietly. “I won’t say anything much, but let me give you some advice. Be more careful than you’ve ever been about what you say, and count your fingers and toes when you leave. As soon as she’s gone, make sure they’re all still there.”

  “Thanks, Ilya, I hear you.” I really did appreciate what the quiet, business-like Azov had to say. “Thanks for the car and the advice.”

  “No problem,” he said, hanging up the phone.

  “He’s good people,” I said out loud before heading toward the kitchen.

  ***

  Time flew by as it often does when you’re at home. Even when you aren’t actually doing anything, you blink and half the day is gone.

  “When will you be back?” Vika serenely adjusted my scarf and looked me openly in the eye.

  “I’m not sure, somewhere around 11, I hope.” I shrugged. “We’re meeting at 7, then we have to get to the restaurant, we’ll be there two or three hours, then the drive home…”

  “Don’t forget to drop her off,” Vika said with a wave of her finger. “It’s good manners.”

  “Of course.” The situation was ridiculous.

  “Take her home, but don’t you stay there.” The finger joined with another to grab my nose hard enough that it even hurt a little. “I’m going to wait up for you, and tomorrow’s a work day, so don’t make me go to work with bags under my eyes!”

  “Got it,” I mumbled, my nose still held shut.

  She certainly showed her teeth there. Quiet, calm, smart…and tenacious.

  Vika kissed my cheek and headed off toward my office, which was where she’d been spending more and more time when I was gone. I rubbed my nose and left.

  On the way there, I stopped by a compact plant store and bought a large flowering begonia. It was a meaningless, pointless plant, though it was at least in a nice pot. I can’t buy her flowers. Otherwise, this will look like a date. But I have to have something—she’s still a woman. I’d also promised that I’d be wearing felt boots and have a flower in my hand. Felt boots were nowhere to be found, which was a shame—they were perfect for the winter, as I’d worn them throughout my childhood. They were dry, warm, and comfortable. But I did have a flower.

  Vezhleva fluttered out of the Raidion doors exactly at 7. Her legs were long, her hair was done up stylishly. How do they make it how it looks ruffled and disheveled, but still neat and tidy? She had a mysterious half-smile on her face, and the curves were just as good as anything a pubescent teen could dream up.

  I stepped out of the car waving the begonia.

  “Forgive me, my lady, for there are no felt boots. None whatsoever!”

  “Hmm…will I at least get my three crusts of bread today? I’d eat the soles of my shoes right now if they were served with a good sauce!”

  “Your highness, without fail.” I bowed subserviently to her. “I’m not sure about soles, but there will be a combination of sides to go with a bit of sirloin. We can even start with a salad, and perhaps an assortment of other meats…”

  “You villain!” Vezhleva screamed at me in a way only she could and hit me in the back with her purse. “I’m drooling already—let’s go!”

  I liked how she ate. She wasn’t a prude, and I didn’t have to deal with the usual nonsense you get from women. I’m actually on a diet, but I’ll splurge today for your sake. Um…it’s already 6 p.m.! I don’t eat after six. How many calories are there in this? What do you mean, you don’t know? Please ask a manager to come over here!

  No, as soon as we were led to our booth, Marina snapped the menu up off the table. She explained to the waiter precisely which salads and appetizers she did not need as well as the ones she wanted, let him know which meat she was in the mood for and how it should be done, rolled off what was indeed a combination of sides, headed off his “but we don’t…” by letting him know that the gentleman she was with was quite the fat cat (a perfectly manicured finger jabbed in my direction), and informed him that his efforts would be well-rewarded.

  The more I got to know her, the more I had to admire her—even against my will and better judgment. She was absolutely natural in everything she did, and I really appreciated that. She could also tell that I liked her, especially, I assumed, because that’s what she was used to getting from people. Still, my instinct for self-preservation was on high alert, telling me that getting attracted to a woman like that was a sure way to sign my own death certificate.

  Our hunger sated, she pulled out a packet of cheap cigarettes and lit up with relish. They were even the slim junk people love so much— your everyday Lucky Strikes.

  “We’re not supposed to do that in restaurants,” I grinned.

  “Oh, lay off it,” Marina replied, flicking off the ash. “If there’s an ashtray sitting there, you can smoke. You know, all us animals are equal, only some of us…”

  “Yep.” I pulled out my own cigarettes. “It’s true.”

  She laughed, shaking her head to send locks of hair flying in every direction, and placed her hand on mine.

  “Oh, don’t worry, I don’t need your scalp for my collection. No offense—you’re a good guy, it’s just… You understand, right?”

  I exhaled noisily, feigning huge relief at being let out of the moral quandary. “It’s just that I’m not the target you have your sights set on?”

  “Something like that. Your girlfriend is worried about nothing, too, though, on the other hand, that’s good for her—she’ll learn something from it. I mean, I guess if you want to have some fun…”

  “Nope,” I replied quickly.

  “I always said you were no fool.” Marina snuffed out her cigarette.

  Who did she always say that to, I wonder?

  “Then why all this?” I gestured to the room around us.

  “Why not? You get a break from your game, I get a nice dinner, and I wanted the chance to chat with you like this, informally. We’re going to be working side-by-side for quite a while, at least, I hope so.”

  I relaxed a bit, and the conversation meandered on from there. Marina declined a bottle of wine, and I was driving, so our back and forth resembled a game of chess. We moved phrases around, exchanged jokes laden with double meanings, sacrificed facts, and castled aphorisms. One thing was perfectly clear to me—in my personal opinion, Zimin and Valyaev needed to make sure that woman didn’t get around behind them if they didn’t want to find a knife in their back when they least expected it. I’d seen and talked to many different people, but she was in a league of her own.

  We discussed this and that, chatted about kings and cabbage, and finally made our way to the topic of Fayroll. She tried to figure out what I thought of everything going on in the game, and I thought the whole thing was innocent enough until she asked one particular question.

  “What about what’s going on with the clans? They’re really at each other’s throats, aren’t they?”


  That damn Zimin! He was right.

  “That isn’t the half of it. I think we’re going to have a fight on our hands soon. I don’t know how soon…but it’s coming.”

  “You think so?”

  “I’m positive. I heard the Double Shields are even involved, and that should tell you something.”

  “Where did you hear that?” Vezhleva’s voice, which until that point had been calm and relaxed, changed in an instant.

  “Marina, don’t ask me questions I can’t answer. I just know.”

  “Kif, you’re the last person I want to fight with, but things are going to be different between us if you don’t tell me. And I’ll find out either way.”

  And out come the teeth. It was just a quick snarl, but her upper lip raised slightly. A chill ran down my spine. It was the same feeling I’d had the day before in the temple when I’d sensed that monster standing up on his tail behind me…

  “You heard what I said. Anyway, we should be going. The wife’s waiting for me at home.”

  “The wife?” Vezhleva grunted. “You married that provincial idiot? I must have missed something… She could wait until the morning—why are a pair of young and beautiful people like us hurrying off?”

  “No, she wouldn’t go to sleep then, and tomorrow she’d have bags under her eyes. What’s the point of that?”

  “All right, then get going. I’m going to stay here a little while longer—it’s nice.”

  “I thought I’d take you home.”

  “I’ll call a taxi. By the way, have the waiter come over.”

  I took the check, left a few bills on the table, kissed her hand, and left. As I did, I felt her looking right through me.

  Vika was happy to see me even earlier than 11, though she did her best not to show it. I did my best not to show that I noticed.

  “Are you going to work with me tomorrow?” she asked as we fell asleep.

  “Full speed ahead,” I mumbled, already gone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  In which both pleasant and unpleasant discoveries are made by the hero.