by S. R. Witt
Someone grabbed my left arm, and someone else grabbed my right arm. My attackers’ hands were cold as the winter air and pinched my bicep with bruising force. “Come with us.”
I looked to my left and right as the brutes dragged me along. Red armor, spiky bits, big ol’ maces.
Templars. Of course. Who else would be hassling me at the literal crack of dawn?
I didn’t struggle. The hulking holy warriors were stronger and had the drop on me. My only option was to play nice and hope they didn’t drag me into an alley somewhere and break every bone in my body with their handy-dandy maces of thief smiting.
“You could’ve just asked,” I said. “It’s not like your boss isn’t blackmailing me. You could’ve just said, ‘Come with us, or we’ll tell all your friends what a rotten scoundrel you are.’ No need to get all handsy.
“Or is that your thing? You like touching defenseless thieves in their no-no zones?”
The Templars said nothing. I don’t know if they were programmed to be sullen dickheads, or if the developers were just saving a few processing cycles by limiting their speech. Regardless of the reason, they were silent for the rest of the trip.
Which was weird, because the last set had been straight from the Chatty Cathy school of talking my damned ear off.
The thugs didn’t drag me off to the temple, but hauled me to an entirely different building on the other side of town. We stopped before a structure that was six stories tall with an impressive portico sprawled across its front. Pillars, nine in all, supported a steeply sloped roof over the entryway that sheltered a thick wooden door with more gilded patterns on it than visible wood. It probably would have been cheaper to make the damned thing out of gold in the first place.
The Templars didn’t give me much time to soak in the grandeur of the site. Their relentless grips dug into my arms, and they dragged me up the stairs and inside the building.
So, this was the library the priestess had mentioned. The air smelled of ancient books and oiled leather, with just a hint of exotic incense wafting under the coarser aromas. The floor was dark wood polished until it gleamed like an oil slick. Ornate frames covered the walls as far as I could see, supporting artwork both elegant and horrifying.
Floor-to-ceiling shelves transformed the large room into a warren of twisty little passages, all alike. There were no torches here because the librarians didn’t want to burn up all their precious books. Instead of flaming sticks, cold globes of stark white light hung from brass fixtures along the walls and at the end of each set of bookshelves. These eco-friendly lights providing a steady, pure illumination, unlike anything I’d ever seen.
The Templars tightened their grips on my arms, preventing me from getting a better look around.
I asked, “How’s a guy get a library card for this place?”
No response. Great.
We waited in silence. Uncomfortable seconds turned into long minutes. My injured foot was killing me, but if I so much as shifted my weight, the Templars grumbled and wrestled me back into their idea of where and how I should be standing.
I’ve never been good with silences. My mouth just takes off without me to fill in the gaps. “Is this about that overdue book? I promise, I just forgot to bring it in. If we can go back to my place, I’ll pick it up—”
My sarcasm earned me a kidney punch from the Templar on my right.
Bruising pain shot through my abdomen and I stumbled out of my escorts’ grasp. I caught myself against a bookshelf. “I think—something’s wrong.”
“You really hurt him.” One of the Templars muttered to his buddy.
“Maybe he’ll learn to keep his mouth shut.”
“She’s not going to be happy if he can’t work.” The first Templar cautioned.
With a sigh, my assailant thumped across the floor. Muscles tensed, I waited until his shadow fell over me before making my move.
We were too close for him to react in time to stop me. When I spun to face him, he had one arm outstretched as if he’d been reaching to turn me around and make sure I wasn’t faking.
He looked awfully surprised to find out I was, in fact, faking.
He was in motion, and I kept him moving. My right hand hooked over the collar of his armor, and I used his momentum to swap our positions. His back slammed into the bookshelf, and before he could try to defend himself, I swiped the short-bladed knife from his belt and pressed its tip into the throbbing pulse point just below his jaw.
UNARMED GRAPPLE!
Opponent held!
BRACERS OF THE STRIKING SERPENT ACTIVATED!
Opponent disarmed!
The attacks triggered by my bracers were very intriguing. I sensed a lot of new tactics in my future.
I shot a shark’s smile at the Templar. “Maybe you should learn to keep your mouth shut, so you don’t get your throat slit.”
The quiet rasp of steel on leather told me his pal had drawn a weapon.
I didn’t take my concentration off the Templar in front of me. “Don’t get any ideas back there. You make me nervous, I’m liable to open your partner’s jugular.”
This was all spinning out of control. I didn’t want to kill anyone here. Hell, I needed the Hoaldites to keep working with me until I could figure out what they knew about the Burning Throne.
But these two bozos had gone homicidal on me, and I couldn’t take the chance they’d disobey their boss and kill me right there and then. Better to make a break for it and save my hide. I could always come back later when cooler heads were in charge of the place.
“Okay, this is what we’re doing. I’m going to take my new friend here for a little stroll outside. Once I’m well away from this place, he’s free to go. But if anybody makes me nervous,” I emphasized my point by sticking him with his own knife, just a little. A ruby red droplet of blood formed just under his jaw and ran down the side of his neck. “Let’s all just be cool about this.”
My question was greeted with silence, so I took that for assent and started moving.
The Templar didn’t put up a fight. He followed my lead, and we made it to the door without anyone getting killed. It looked like my plan might just work.
We’d almost reached the door when my plan fell apart.
“Stop,” she said.
Her voice was calm, measured, and irresistible. My muscles locked in place and I could no more move than fly to the moon.
VERBOSE MAGIC RESISTANCE SKILL CHECK: UNSKILLED
1/2 WISDOM (5) + d100 (51) = 56
vs
Opponent’s Miracle Skill Check Result: 79
Skill Check Result = -23
Degree of Success = 3
FAILURE! Your attempt to resist your foe’s miracle fails.
Miracles? Well, wasn’t that just awesome?
I had a whole slew of snappy comebacks, but they all went to waste. I couldn’t even talk after the mystery woman dropped the hoodoo on me.
“Release the Templar, and come here,” she said.
The command pushed me around like a toddler on a tricycle. My right hand dropped the jerk’s knife back into its sheath without my consent. My traitorous left hand released the Templar.
I tried to resist the order to approach the priestess, but all that accomplished was making me look like an idiot as my arms and legs flopped around like I was a marionette being controlled by a drunken four-year-old.
Priestess Saryle glared at me with ageless eyes that terrified me. If I’d been able to look away from that killing stare, I would have done it in a heartbeat. This woman had seen things, and they’d left a stain on her soul.
“Now,” she said with a quirked smile, “let’s try this again. You were told to continue your duties here this morning, and yet I had to send Templars to retrieve you.”
A question tried to force its way past my frozen lips but died burbling in my throat.
A look of raw disgust washed over her features as spit frothed out of my mouth instead of words. “You may speak,
you disgusting creature.”
“Thanks,” I said without meaning it. “The sun had just come up. You didn’t need to send your bully boys to round me up. If you had a little patience, I wouldn’t have had to almost slit your boy’s throat.”
She shrugged and adjusted her ornate robes. “It’s been my experience that people like you are not always the most reliable. I felt it best not to leave your arrival up to chance.”
She knew just how to get under my skin. My whole life, I’d been looked down on by people who had lives just a little easier than mine. Hell, even my own brother treated me like a subhuman slob most of the time. “People like me? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Saryle raised her eyebrows, and for a moment I thought I’d stepped over the line, and she was going to smite me on the spot. She took a deep breath and shook her bald head. “The entire reason you and I are together is because of what you are. Let’s not pretend you’re anything other than a criminal I find useful. Like any tool, the moment you are no longer able to serve your purpose, our relationship will end.”
The way she said that made my blood run cold. She’d probably say something droll like, “Your services are no longer required,” as she thumped me with her mace and watched my brains splash out of my ears.
She hadn’t told me I couldn’t keep talking, so I did. Might as well go for broke. “My foot hurts.”
All that stomping around and excitement had reminded me my poor abused foot was still crippled. The healing potion hadn’t removed the status effect, despite fixing all my other ouchies.
She glanced down at it, then back to me. “Do you need your foot to open locks?”
“Sometimes, on the tricky ones, I need all my fingers and all my little piggies.”
A sound I didn’t recognize leaked out from between her clenched lips. It took me a moment to realize what it was. Saryle was growling at me. “You are insufferable.”
She raised a closed fist between us, and a globe of golden fire flickered to life around her fingers. Without warning, she opened her hand, and the liquid flames poured out of her palm and onto my foot.
If the original injury had been agonizing, the healing was a thousand times worse. A tiny sun took root in the hole in my boot and set every nerve in my foot ablaze. Without her paralyzing spell keeping me upright, I would have keeled over.
When the tears stopped rolling out of my eyes, she snapped her fingers in front of them. “Follow me.”
The priestess turned on one heel and led me through a winding course between the bookshelves. The Templars did not follow, which was a relief, but I clomped along behind her like a monkey with two peg legs. I’d never felt so powerless in my life.
I made a mental note to kill this one by surprise if I ever got the chance. If she had a moment to speak, I’d end up dancing to her tune. Probably right off a cliff.
But, my foot stopped hurting and the little status icon indicating my crippled status vanished.
Our journey ended in a long, narrow room at the back of the library. A scarred wooden table ran its length, and the walls were lined with chests, strong boxes, and other sealed containers.
She jabbed a finger at a stool at the table’s head.
“Sit.”
And I did.
Saryle gestured at the locked containers lining the walls. “We need these opened. If you find any that exceed your skills, put them against the wall near the door.”
When I didn’t move, she raised an eyebrow. “That miracle still hasn’t worn off?
She hadn’t told me to shut up yet, which left me free to talk. “You’ve cast a spell over my heart. I’m so infatuated with your timeless beauty that—”
She twisted her hand in some sort of arcane. For a moment, my throat didn’t work, and all I could do was blow bubbles through my flapping lips.
She smirked at my confusion. “You are terrible at resisting magic. I hope you never run into someone who really wants to hurt you with it. I release you.
“Now get to work.”
She turned to leave, but I had a question before she left.
“All of these?”
She tapped one lacquered nail against her chin. “As many as you can before I return. And don’t think you can relax in here until your time is up. I’ll be the judge of when you’re finished for the day.”
My jaw tightened, and an angry tic jumped to life at the corner of my left eye. “I’m not your slave, I—”
That got her attention. She pivoted to face me and cupped one hand behind her ear. “What was that?”
Great. This was going well. “I said, I’m not a slave. I’ve agreed to help you with this, but I need some consideration in return.”
That infuriating smirk returned to Saryle’s lips. “Consideration? Consider this. I still hold your secret. As long as you keep me happy, I’ll keep it safe. But, push your luck, and there’s no telling who might find out what you really are.”
She left me at the table, fists clenched, murder on my mind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
There were 107 boxes of various sizes, shapes, and weights in that room. Some looked almost new, others were crusted with years of dirt, grime, and unidentifiable gore. I grabbed one of the grubbier ones at random and tossed it onto the table.
It didn’t explode, so I assumed any traps it might contain were isolated to the lock itself. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”
My go-to tool for busting open things that don’t want to be opened is a simple rake pick. It’s a long, thin sliver of metal with several sharp peaks and smooth along its length. You shove it into a lock, slowly pull it back out, and it pushes the pins down for you. That and a torsion wrench is usually all I need to get the job done. Easy peasy.
Some thieves swear it’s cheating to rake. The Grandfather of Shadows, for example, disdains the use of anything other than a torsion wrench and a hook pick, which is why the pockets on the backs of his gloves are mostly empty.
Mine, on the other hand, hold a nice collection of tools because I am lazy and want to do things the easiest way possible.
My Thief’s Eye showed me no traps, though that didn’t mean there weren’t any. It wasn’t a skill, so I wasn’t sure exactly how it worked. I shrugged and went to work.
The rake slipped over the pins and tapped against the back of the lock without triggering any explosives, darts, or magical wards. Go me. “Maybe I’ll get to go home in one piece today.”
Five minutes later, I’d raked the pins down and twisted them with my torsion wrench until the lock opened with a dull click.
The urge to open the chest and take a look inside made my fingers itch. Who knew what riches lay in its musty innards? How much money could I make if I took just a few coins or small items from each of the boxes in this room?
I desperately wanted answers to those questions but didn’t dare stick my hand into the box. I didn’t know that the priestess could detect my thievery, but I didn’t want to find out she had sneaky mental powers the hard way.
Plus, I needed to be cool. The Grandfather needed me to steal a map from these dickheads, and I’d never get the chance if the Hoaldites caught me playing keep away with their precious treasure.
With a sigh, I moved the opened chest to the far end of the table and selected another from the stack. It didn’t take long for the whole process to become a tedious, annoying chore. None of the locks presented a serious challenge, there were no traps, and it only took me twenty minutes to top off my pick locks skill ranks. Until I gained a level, my skills were maxed, and this was just burning up my time.
Even worse, this was costing me real dollars in connect time charges. When I should’ve been resting and preparing for the next day, I was stuck at a table opening treasure chests for assholes.
Which didn’t give me a lot of incentive to break a sweat. The priestess could make life hard for me if I didn’t do her dirty work, but that didn’t mean I had to give her my best efforts. Half-speed was all these d
ickheads deserved.
After I’d pried open thirty boxes at a leisurely pace, my hostess returned.
She stopped short in the doorway. “That’s all you’ve done?”
My angry tic returned with a vengeance. “Are you serious?”
Priestess Saryle entered and closed the door. She walked to the end of the table where I’d stacked the fruits of my labors and ran a pale hand over the top of the nearest chest. “I’d hoped you’d be more efficient than this. You’re already behind schedule, and we’re expecting another shipment soon.”
It took me a few moments before I could speak without worrying that a torrent of curses would pour out of my mouth. I stretched my arms overhead and arched my back until all of my joints popped and cracked. “Let me take a little break, and I’ll open some more.”
Saryle’s finger tapped against the box. “15 minutes. Then it’s back to work. And I expect you to have at least seventy-five of these opened before you leave today.”
Somehow, I’d found a micromanaged shitty job inside the most fantastic fully immersive virtual reality role-playing game in the world. Even here, it seemed the best I could do was the fantasy equivalent of working in a McDonald’s flipping burgers. There had to be a better way.
The priestess shut the door on her way out, and I heard a lock snap into place.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Here’s a little secret you may not know about holding a real thief prisoner. It’s really, really hard.
I’d just spent the last few hours opening locks, and Priestess Bitchy McBitchface had the nerve to try locking me up like a common hoodlum? What kind of punk did she think she was dealing with?
I almost unlocked the door out of pure spite. Unfortunately, cutting and running wouldn’t solve my problem. I needed to stay on Saryle’s good side until I could get my hands on that map. Which meant I had to open her stupid boxes to keep her from sending the Templars in here to gift me a few broken ribs and a concussion.
