The City and the Dungeon

by Matthew Schmidt

  "We've actually been warned about that," the attendant said. "No telling what can be found down there."

  "I know," I said.

  "Found what you're looking for?" Xavier asked me. "I did. 'Sup, Dave," he greeted the attendant.

  "No," I said. "But that's because no one knew it existed before now."

  And, I realized with some shock, I had been the one to discover it.

  * * *

  I tried not to stare at the amount of gold dollars that the teller gave me. Of course, it was a miniscule fraction of my wealth; in crystal I wouldn't have bothered to pick it up. But it wasn't until that moment that I truly understood how obscenely rich I was. Even my broker only showed me numbers.

  Xavier wasn't fooled. "You look shocked," he told me outside.

  "I am," I said. "You ready?"

  "Already knew most of the pattern. Denver?"

  "Yep."

  He drew the shape, like a caret in a sphere, and—

  * * *

  A world-scale teleport feels even more of a yank than teleporting out of the Dungeon. Or—different? I don't know.

  We stood on the road, that old black, cracked material that the Earlier world made its roads from. How strange was it to see a normal city, where there were repaired Earlier structures instead of spires, and a wall. And a name.

  "If you need something, I got some kind of wide-band telepathy in my personals," Xavier said. "I'll just... I don't know."

  "Come with me," I said. "I'm sure they'll be happy to meet you."

  "No, I'm... I'm sorry, I just want to be alone. Maybe I'll find a library."

  "That's fine," I said.

  The gate was guarded, and we and the guard gave each other the strangest looks.

  "I used to live here!" I shouted upwards.

  A guard gave me a disgusted look. "You a delver?"

  "Yes," I said impatiently.

  "Name?"

  "Alex Kenderman."

  "Ah, go on through." He returned to his newspaper and pulled the lever. The gate shuddered open. Through infravision I saw the enchanted gears that turned—why complain about delvers if you're using stuff they brought out of the Dungeon?

  It would have been so much easier just to teleport inside from here, Xavier thought to me.

  It'd probably be against the law. The local law, I mean.

  Oh, Xavier thought. Yeah. After a pause. Hadn't thought about that kind of thing for so long.

  * * *

  Denver was as I had left it. Mostly.

  Ruins, yuccas, the mountains in the distance. All the same. Yet I felt different—too different for it to be the same.

  People gave me strange looks as I passed, and I gave stranger ones back, when I kept trying to read the auras of beggars, street merchants, and even a patrolling guardsman. I had to be the only delver in Denver, or anyone else was out. Unlikely. Maybe they kept to themselves, when outside of the City.

  Perhaps it was just the eyes of age, but it didn't seem quite as bad—more prosperous. I passed through a wealthy district on the way home, saw a mansion that wasn't there previously, went on.

  My heart beat harder as I came around the final, far worse, streets. My steps grew as heavy as if my feet wore cursed shoes.

  Then I saw.

  Where our house had been, only a burned shell remained. Everything—every childhood memory—gone.

  And everyone?

  I stood in front of the remains for a long, long time.

  * * *

  Of course, surely you hadn't died. Surely—you had just sent me a letter days ago—

  "Can I help you, sir?" A very dirty and small girl asked me.

  Urchins. Another thing I hadn't thought of in so long. Elise and Andy were the exceptions—most kids who couldn't afford life in the City went straight into the Dungeon. This poor kid... No, wait. The Cornerstone didn't work on anyone below thirteen. So where were all the surfacer kids on the street?

  "Sir?" The girl asked again.

  I snapped back to reality. "There's nothing you can do. My house was here." I said. "Was."

  "You're a Kenderman?" the girl asked happily. "I'll take you to them."

  "What? Oh," I said, and found myself following her. Your new house wasn't all that far—after all, I had just passed through the wealthy areas.

  The girl chattered the whole way. "People got so upset, you know. Them getting all wealthy so quickly. Figured it wasn't no fire, y'know what I mean?" I didn't know what to answer, but it didn't seem to matter to her. "Not going to happen no more. Not now. Here you go!"

  We stood at the gate before the new mansion's yard, and she looked at me expectantly. I gave her a gold dollar. She grinned, quickly stashed it somewhere in her rags and fled.

  I could see the trap on the door through infravision. Why was there an alarm trap?—oh, a doorknocker. Some enterprising delver had looted an entire door from the Dungeon to sell to the rich surfacers as a kind of poor man's ward.

  You'll have to understand; my hesitation wasn't because I didn't want to talk to you. Just any delver's instinctual fear of traps.

  "Alex?" Your voice came from an upper window of the mansion. "Alex?"

  "I'm back!" I called.

  You went back into the room, and after a few moments the gate swung open by itself. An item that casts Charm of Opening, I'm guessing.

  I could barely wait to run inside.

  * * *

  I felt out of place in all the splendor. Sure, I had consumed without a thought potions worth more than all of what I saw, but it wasn't... My standard for what was wealthy turns out to be fixed in childhood, even if I am now the wealthy one.

  I'll have to start calling you, Mom, as Mom now, and you, Annabelle, as Annabelle, otherwise this will become very confusing.

  "How, how is it, Alex?" Mom asked hesitantly. "We were worried after your last letter."

  "Oh, sorry," I said. "We survived. It's just... well, we were surprised by what we saw. And sorry about not visiting, I—" I saw Annabelle come out of the door and walk to the table. I did, in fact, like your pure white and pearl dress. Stark, yes, but it has a subtlety to it. "Here," I said.

  Annabelle ran her fingers over my face. "You've changed."

  "I have," I agreed and kissed her on the cheek. "How's it going?"

  "I don't know, maybe you could have visited?"

  "Annabelle?" Mom said warningly. "He's just come back from a long journey."

  "Actually," I admitted. "It took only a moment. I just didn't visit you because... one thing or another would happen, and I'd put it off, then I'd put it off again because it'd be so long, it didn't matter if it was a little longer. And I just kept doing it."

  "For over a year," Annabelle said.

  "I don't know," I said. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was that long."

  "It's all right," Mom said firmly. "You're here now."

  The tea came in, escorted by servants, who gave me a wide-eyed look. I wondered briefly what the herbs were for, but I remembered for most of the world, tea was just tea.

  I had so much to tell you, I'm sorry if it was so disjointed. I can't complain yours wasn't that much more jointed either.

  "We were so concerned, back in April. You hadn't send anything for so long, we were worried that... you had died."

  "And we were running out of the stuff you had sent," Annabelle said. "And excuses to the loan brokers."

  "That might have been back when I was saving for... never mind, I should have sent at least something," I said. I was uncomfortable enough to try to change the subject. "Annabelle, can I try something? I know they won't work, but I have five spells to cure blindness."

  Mom stared. "What?"

  "Like I said, I'm sure it wouldn't work," I said. "Healing spells only work on delvers."

  "Go on," Annabelle said. "I'm curious."

  "Cure Blind. Perfect Cure. Panacea. Mass Perfect Cure. True Heal." But only Mom could see the fireworks from my staff.

  "Are those t
he names of the spells?" Mom asked hopefully.

  "Did you do it?" Annabelle asked.

  "I did," I said. "Those were the trigger words. Sorry... I knew it wouldn't work. I just had to try."

  "What would happen if Annabelle—" Mom began.

  "No, absolutely not," Annabelle said. "I'm not going to be a delver. I can't make a decision for eternity over... what, something I've never had? Boo hoo hoo."

  "A wise choice," I said. "You can't ever change your mind once you touch the Cornerstone." I felt so awful, though, that for all my power I couldn't do it.

  The alarm went off and I flinched. "It's the Dodgsons," a liveried attendant told Mom. I could sense through telepathy a group outside the gates, and hear the argument between them and your guards. Our guards, I guess.

  "I suppose we'll have to let them in," Mom said. "I'm sorry, Alex, but I don't suppose you have any chance of escaping this."

  Actually, I had five or so spells for that as well, or just thinking to Xavier. "I suppose not," I said. "Who are they?"

  "Pretend you know them," Mom said. "They're the second-richest family here."

  "They used to be first," Annabelle explained.

  "Oh. Those Dodgsons." I remembered. That infamous merchant family had repeatedly failed to become ennobled, no matter how much they shelled out—probably had offended someone in a high place. Of course, a year ago they would not have stopped to blow their nose on us. But now...

  "Can I pretend to be sick?" Annabelle asked.

  "If that would mean you will not ridicule our neighbors, yes."

  "Man, you have to make these choices..."

  Annabelle didn't have much time to choose. Up the stairs emerged the first one.

  Mrs. Dodgson was a very large woman in a bright orange embroidered robe. Another thing that shocked me after so much time—I had never seen someone in the City who was fat. Plump, yes, stout like Mical, yes, but never obese. Either working out in the Dungeon or a bunch of Charisma gain later, you'll look just the weight you want to be. But neither of those things were available to this surfacer, no matter how rich, who now swept to her feet with an enormous curtsy. "What brings us the pleasure of having a High House member here?"

  "Being my brother?" Annabelle asked.

  "There's no need to be rude." Other Dodgsons arrived, along with even more attendants. I calculated the tactical situation of all our guards against theirs—it's a side effect of Master Tactics. If I was involved of course, it wasn't a contest. But causing injury to someone without a heartstone is one of the worst Chaotic actions. "Really, holding a reception for someone so important—"

  "I am not a High House member," I said. "I'm in a High House's service." For practical purposes of anyone outside the City, it made no difference. But I already wanted to trip her up.

  She refused to be tripped. "But of course, my apologies. I take it you have served them long and well?"

  "He's been gone about a year," Annabelle said.

  "Then you've done it very well," the tall thin man I took to be Mr. Dodgson said. "I've seen your article in Blues." I felt an instinctual wave of revulsion. There's a term for a surfacer who wants to be a delver, but doesn't try to become one. It's such a slur I won't even write it. It's stupid, anyway, because why is it any more wrong to read Blues as a non-delver than as a red delver?

  No, I decided. I would be better. I would not let some inward irrational dislike, or even an inward rational dislike, make me hate these people, no matter how they chattered or invaded my time with my family.

  "How's it like?" a Dodgson boy asked me. "Delving."

  "Exciting, usually," I said.

  "Humph. You never risk dying for real."

  "I'm sure it's so great to die for real, then," I said. "If risking it is better than not risking it." No. No, this was already turning sour. I sensed guards glaring at each other.

  A young Dodgson girl came close, quietly reaching towards my pocket. She might have had a chance in the increasing chaos if I hadn't high Perception, to say nothing of telepathy. "Hello?" I asked her without turning. "Need something?"

  "N-nothing," she said, and slunk away.

  Annabelle and Mrs. Dodgson's conversation had devolved into insults. Mrs. Dodgson hadn't crossed the line yet, but I knew she would. Something was burning in my chest, as if hate was one of those status conditions that spread.

  "Stop," I said with a loud, but firm voice. Everyone stopped. "I am very hungry. I would advise anyone who wishes not to offend this important guest to give him some space."

  "Of course, of course, our greatest apologies," Mrs. Dodgson lied. But with another curtsy, she and her family left downstairs.

  * * *

  "Did I hurt any feelings?" I asked. My feelings were hurt.

  "No one important. Katie's the one I actually feel sorry for," Annabelle said. "She's, like, a kleptomaniac."

  "You don't say," I said. A mental illness I didn't hear of in the City—theft triggers the Law immediately. Or maybe they just became Rogues, or got the endorphins they needed from the Dungeon.

  "I'm serious," Annabelle said. "She's tried to steal my hairpins."

  "Why her, though?" I asked.

  "Maybe being a Dodgson drove her insane. Or maybe she was already insane. Or maybe being insane drove her Dodgson?"

  "In any case," Mom interrupted with the glare you can stick in your voice. Then, calmer, "Alex, would you kindly stay for some kind of public celebration. I'm sure the Dodgsons are spreading as many nasty rumors as possible."

  "They'd do that anyway," Annabelle said.

  "Annabelle!"

  "Depends," I interrupted. I started to wonder what they had done to all of you that you already hated them so much. Even you, Mom, disliked them. And I knew I already did. "How quick can someone get it together?"

  "The Duchess of Denver's staff could do it in a day, all the while cursing you under their breath," Mom said. "I'm sure I could convince her—you are highly placed in your House, yes?"

  "I've been literally cursed by worse," I said. "And I'm a violet. She'll know that makes me important." Unfortunately. "I really can't stay for long; my party and House needs me."

  "It's fine," Annabelle said. "You visited. Actually."

  "I did," I said. "Sorry about that." Xavier? I thought to him. I'm going to stay the night.

  Thought you would, actually, he thought back. I'll teleport back to you tomorrow.

  * * *

  That night, I couldn't sleep. Foreign bed, but also thinking. Thinking of my life. I idly sensed the world around me—servants gossiping while sweeping, the guards marching about and complaining, the gardener's kid snoring, even the tap of Annabelle's cane on the floor. Even without my hearing, I could sense the position of every thinking being through my telepathy, a small world revolving around two human beings.

  I sensed you, Annabelle, long before you knocked on the door and asked, "Alex?"

  "What's up?" I asked, then quietly chanted. "Charm of Opening." The door rattled open. "Come in."

  You stepped inside, and I heard every creak in the floorboards, even a spider that skittered away. "What's wrong?" you asked. I didn't need light to see your face—infravision was enough.

  "I'm not sure what you..."

  "Seriously? Seriously?"

  I sighed. "I'm... unsure what to do with my life."

  "You're helping us out," you said, and sat by me. "What's wrong? Just keep doing that. And visit more often."

  "It's not that simple," I said. "I'm now a violet."

  "A violet."

  "The highest spectrum of delver there is. The top of the food chain. I'm close enough to the Top 100 it's conceivable I might be there one day."

  "My brother, the overachiever. And look, we live in a mansion instead of a hovel. Boo hoo hoo."

  "But I don't need to be rich for that. Or that rich. I eat more crystal every day than this entire house is worth. Far, far, more. More than Denver's entire real estate. The reason I haven't sent
you any more is that the Bank told me it would crash the market."

  "Hmm." I saw your hand, as if in slow motion, as you slapped me hard.

  I reacted without thinking—"Drain Li—"; I caught myself before I said the full trigger and grabbed your hand. "Annabelle! NEVER do that again. I could have just killed you by reflex."