by E. M. Foner
“I figure we can deliver take-out anywhere on the station at ten minutes for the round trip,” Ian volunteered. “You could cut that in half since the runner won’t have to return after every delivery, and if you plan the route smart, I wouldn’t be surprised if a bright teenager could manage thirty deliveries an hour. With navigation help from the station librarian, I’ll bet even a younger kid could get through the stack pretty quick.”
“You’re right,” Kelly said. “I’ll hire Aisha’s daughter and her friends to take care of all of the deliveries on the station.”
Two
Samuel frowned at the contents of the intake bin under the counter holding the most recent items brought in by the maintenance bots. After two years of working in the lost-and-found, the teenager prided himself on his ability to recognize most of the finds without having to resort to asking the cataloging system, but there was something strange about this lot.
“Is anybody here?” a voice demanded from the other side of the counter.
“Can I help you?” Samuel asked, popping to his feet. When he saw the bulky alien dressed in some type of leather battle harness studded with fist-sized silver skulls, he almost wished he had stayed under the counter.
“I have lost the Magic Eye of Jyndal,” the Verlock woman grated out. “I am a disgrace to the guild of mages.”
“When did you first notice it was missing?”
The Verlock held up one finger.
“One Klunk?” Samuel guessed, naming the basic Verlock calendar unit, which happened to correspond with the length of time newly arrived items were stored under the counter before being cataloged.
The alien shook her head in negation.
“A cycle?” he asked, shifting to the Stryx calendar.
The Verlock looked frustrated and made a pushing down motion with both hands.
“Lower? Is there some reason you can’t just tell me?”
“Shameful to speak of the loss.”
“All right. A day, then?”
The Verlock repeated her sign-language feedback.
“An hour?”
She nodded in the affirmative.
“Well, if it’s here it would be in the most recent bin,” Samuel said. He crouched back down, pulled out the heavy bin, and heaved it onto the counter. “What does it look like?”
“Forbidden to describe to uninitiated,” the Verlock replied at glacial speed. “May I look?”
“We can’t allow non-employees to handle the items for liability reasons,” Samuel gave the stock answer. “I started my shift just before you came in, and I looked through this bin, but I didn’t see anything resembling an eye.”
“Enchanted,” the Verlock said, and plucked a metal rod with a string of beads wrapped around it from her harness. “May I?”
“As long as you don’t touch anything.”
“Gurrrrumph,” she intoned, waving the rod over the bin. “Look again.”
Samuel moved aside a strange battle axe and an elaborate variation on the crossbow that sported a magazine of suction-cup-tipped bolts, and then he froze. A glowing red eye encased in a clear crystal pendant stared up at him malevolently.
“I think I found it. It’s on a necklace?”
“Yes,” the Verlock said, with as much excitement as Samuel had ever heard from a member of that species. “What is the fee?”
“There’s no charge, but it hasn’t been officially checked in yet so I have to make a record,” the teen said, steeling himself to pick it up by the chain. He walked down the long counter holding the artifact as far as possible from his body and then deposited it on the cataloging turntable.
“Magic Eye of Jyndal,” the system identified the object without hesitation. “Increases spell-casting efficacy by three-hundred percent and can be used by master mages for short-distance teleportation.”
“It’s being reclaimed by the owner,” Samuel told the cataloging system and handed it over to the Verlock.
“Thank you,” she rumbled, and placed a five-cred tip on the counter before shuffling for the nearest exit.
Samuel pocketed the coin and hesitated for a moment near the turntable, a question on his lips. Then he shrugged and headed back down the counter to put the bin away, but the tallest Drazen he had ever seen entered the lost-and-found before he got there.
“Can I help you?”
“I’ve lost a circlet of power,” the alien said, his tentacle twitching nervously. “It provides a fifty percent boost to my health and strength, and more importantly, it allows me to communicate telepathically with boon companions who also wear the same type of circlet.”
“Could you describe it?”
“I thought I just did.”
“I mean, what does it look like?”
“Oh. It’s an iron hoop inscribed with runes that glow when I’m using it. Kind of like a crown without ornaments.”
“An iron circlet. Is this something you just lost?”
“A little over an hour ago.”
“If we have it, I’ll find it in here,” Samuel said, and began sifting through the contents of the bin that was still on the counter. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the Verlock mage who was just in here, would it?”
“Ryenth the Evil?” the Drazen demanded. “She must have lost the Magic Eye of Jyndal because I felt her spells lose their force near the end of the battle. Did you have it? You didn’t return it to her, did you?”
“She picked it up just before you came in,” the teen said, and then spotted a dull grey circlet that would have been impossible to discern in a box of scrap metal. “Is this it?” he asked, holding it up between his thumb and forefinger.
“Don’t put it on!” the alien shouted. “Whosoever dons the circlet becomes its new master.”
“I’m not letting this thing anywhere near my head,” Samuel retorted. “Just give me a minute to check it out with the cataloging system and it’s yours.”
“Sorry, I’m a bit stressed. I thought we had everything planned to perfection, but our assault group was ambushed, and a Horten troll with a club knocked the circlet off my head in the melee. I was lucky to escape with my life after that.”
“Cursed circlet of power,” the cataloging system announced. “Provides a fifty percent boost to health and strength, but draws off ninety percent from the wearer’s luck, and its location can be tracked by any mage in possession of a magic eye.”
The Drazen leapt backwards as if he’d been struck. “What? I paid a hundred gold coins for that circlet!”
“Here,” Samuel said, picking it off the turntable and extending it towards the alien.
“Are you insane? That circlet is why our quest ended in disaster. No plans can stand a ninety percent hit to luck, and Ryenth the Evil would have seen us coming from ten dungeons away. Keep it,” the Drazen concluded, and spun on his heel to exit.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but couldn’t you return it to the seller?” Samuel called after him to no avail. He sighed and replaced the iron hoop on the turntable. “I’ve never had a customer refuse to accept a lost item before, Libby. What do I do with it?”
“If it wasn’t for the curse, I’d suggest you wear it yourself,” the station librarian responded. “There’s no point letting it age down the counter for processing when the owner has already refused to take it back.”
“What curse?” a young woman’s voice inquired, and Samuel turned to see that his girlfriend had dropped into the lost-and-found for a visit.
“Hey, Viv. I don’t know what’s going on today. First I got some half-naked Verlock woman looking for a magic eye, and then a giant Drazen came in for this iron hoop, but he took off when the cataloging system told him it was cursed.”
“I didn’t realize that you could have a magical item and not know it was cursed. I should have checked with Jonah first.” The girl shook her head in disgust and fished a package out of her daypack. “Happy Birthday. Check it out with the cataloging system before yo
u put it on.”
“Why is everybody suddenly talking about magic and curses? Does this have something to do with the bin of weird stuff the bots brought in just before the start of my shift?”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that. You told me to pick an elective we can take together at the Open University so I signed us up for LARPing. And since your eighteenth birthday is next week, I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone and get your present out of the way at the same time.”
“What’s LARPing?”
“An acronym. Somebody told me it stands for Live Action Role Playing, though that’s just an approximation since the Open University is unlikely to follow human rules. Role-playing is getting so popular that the university bookstore opened a special section for magical objects. It never occurred to me that they might be selling cursed goods,” she added darkly.
“Sounds pretty cool,” Samuel said, eagerly unwrapping his present. “Uh, what is it?”
“A magical garter. It’s supposed to protect you from any back-stabbing or weapons wielded from concealment. I figure you’re a good enough fencer to handle frontal assaults.”
“It looks like something from the girly underwear line Dorothy is trying to talk Jeeves into manufacturing.”
“Lingerie. The clerk at the university bookstore swore that the garter is one of a kind.”
“Thanks, but I can’t wear this,” the teen said, and tried to return the gift to the girl, who waved it away. “The other players will all laugh at me.”
“You wear it next to your skin where nobody can see it,” Vivian said. “Here, at least ask the cataloging system about it.”
Samuel shook his head, but he removed the cursed circlet from the turntable and replaced it with the garter.
“Magical garter. Protects female wearers from weapons wielded from concealment,” the artificial voice intoned.
“What? The packaging didn’t say anything about it only working for females,” Vivian cried angrily.
“It’s the thought that counts,” Samuel told her, relieved by his narrow escape. “Imagine if I had worn the thing and gotten laughed at for nothing. At least it’s not cursed. You should wear it.”
“I really wanted to give you something that would protect you,” the girl said, rummaging through her bag. “I bought this for myself, but you can have it and I’ll wear the garter. There’s no return on magical items.”
“How can the university bookstore not accept returns?”
“Well, you don’t have to pay with real money, for one thing. Every player gets a little pile of virtual gold when they sign up for LARPing, and I spent all of mine today. I figure you can buy us supplies with yours when we find out what kind of world we’ll be in. Ah, here it is.”
“Another ring? You promised you’d let me do the proposal when the time comes.”
“It’s not an engagement ring, guys don’t get one. It’s a ring of stealth.”
“Like invisibility?”
“Not exactly. It increases your ability to sneak up on people, scout, things like that. Ask the cataloging system about it.”
Samuel placed the ring set with a large colorful gemstone on the turntable and imparted a gentle spin.
“Ring of stealth and deception,” the voice reported. “Turns shadows into concealing darkness and cloaks its users in the holographic form of their choice. A rare object.”
“I didn’t know it was so special,” Vivian said. “It cost less than the garter. I guess all of the magical items come with surprises and that’s how somebody ended up with a cursed circlet.”
“I’m good with the ring.” Samuel slipped it onto his pinky. “It’s a bit garish, though, so I’m only going to put it on when we’re role-playing.”
“I wonder if the curse can be removed from that circlet,” Vivian said, indicating the iron ring. “Libby?”
“I’m afraid that would be considered competitive information. However, I can say that it has no power one way or the other as long as you don’t wear it on your head.”
“So we can bring it LARPing and look for an answer there.”
“How come you already know so much about this stuff?” Samuel demanded.
“Tinka has been working on forming a LARPing league as a perk for InstaSitters, and she drafted my brother to be one of the guinea pigs for beta testing. Jonah’s really getting into it, but he’s also the only guy playing with a dozen teenage girls, so that’s no surprise.”
“And it’s all fighting with toy weapons and magical objects? There’s a crossbow in that bin that fires darts with suction-cup tips, and a weird axe that gets droopy when I touch the blade.”
“From what Jonah says, some of the games are like immersive theatrical experiences, while others involve quests for magical objects or combat missions. The crossbow sounds dangerous, but the axe is definitely a noodle weapon.”
“Noodle weapon?”
“They’re really high-tech. Jonah said they were developed by the Grenouthians for stage fighting. Noodle weapons are rigid in the air or when they contact other noodle technology, including shields and armor, but if they touch clothing or skin, they go all noodly. The bunnies use them in their action immersives to prevent accidental injuries to the actors.”
“Why don’t all the Drazen and Horten reenactors use them?” Samuel demanded. “And I know the Vergallians use real weapons in their immersives because sometimes they slice through clothing and even draw blood.”
“The Drazens and Hortens are too proud to use safe weapons and the Vergallians are just idiots. Hey, did you say there’s a whole bunch of noodle weapons and magical objects that came in today?”
“Apparently there was some kind of battle just an hour ago.”
“So it will still be in the security footage,” the girl said, her eyes shining.
“I don’t know, Vivian,” Samuel objected. “We’re not supposed to use the cataloging system for our own entertainment.”
“Come on, everybody does it. Libby? Can you show us how the cursed circlet was lost?”
“The cataloging system only responds to requests from lost-and-found employees,” the station librarian replied.
Vivian leaned over the counter and poked Samuel.
“Oh, all right.” He replaced the circlet on the turntable and asked, “Is there security footage of how the circlet was lost?”
A hologram appeared above the turntable, though at first it was difficult to see what was going on because the scene was taking place in a poorly lit cavern of some sort. Then a flash of light illuminated a Dollnick encased in armor and carrying a large two-armed shield, along with a broadsword and an axe.
“Retreat!” the Dolly bellowed. “It’s a trap.”
The Verlock mage who had just visited the lost-and-found suddenly appeared standing on a stone ledge, the glowing eye upon her chest, and she wielded her wand like a symphony conductor’s baton, spitting out words of power at a speed that surprised the humans. A cloud of arrows filled the air as traps were activated, and the small band of adventurers attempted to fall back in good order.
“You shouldn’t have returned her magic eye,” Vivian observed as the mage skewered a fleeing Frunge with a bolt of lightning.
“Lost-and-found policy,” Samuel said. “We aren’t here to make ethical calls. Besides, it’s just a game.”
A giant figure dragging an enormous club loomed up to block the band’s exit from the cavern. The new player’s skin color was changing back and forth between bright red and black.
“Horten troll!” a Vergallian woman cried, breaking her quarterstaff over its hard head to no effect.
A human who had run forward to help the Dollnick gave a weird battle cry, and stretching way back over his head with both hands, cast his double-headed axe at the Verlock mage. The blade barely grazed her shoulder as she ducked in slow motion, but it cut through the chain of her necklace, and the Magic Eye of Jyndal dropped from her chest and disappeared in a puff of smoke.
“Wow, that looks like fun,” Samuel said. “We get university credit for playing?”
“I think what we just saw was more of a dungeon crawl. The Open University LARPs are supposed to be educational.”
“But we just learned how to fight a Verlock mage.” He grinned across the counter at the girl, and something suddenly hit him. “Hey, are you wearing new heels? I don’t remember you being this tall.”
“No. I’ve been gaining on you for almost a year now that you’ve finally stopped growing so fast. My dad is taller than yours, and our moms are around the same height, so I should make up a little more ground before I’m done.”
“Hello?” a man called from the far end of the counter.
“Be right with you,” Samuel said, and added in an undertone for Vivian, “It’s the axe guy.”
“He’s huge,” she whispered back, keeping pace with Samuel on the other side of the counter. “Like a professional athlete or something.”
“Can I help you?” Samuel asked.
“I seem to have misplaced my noodle axe and I’ve been informed that the lost-and-found is the destination for all dropped items on this station.”
“I have it right here but I’ll have to check it out,” the teen informed him. “So you’re not a local?”
“I’m with a band of adventurers. We came here to battle an evil Verlock mage but she turned the tables on us. This tunnel network league play is turning out to be tougher than I anticipated.”
Samuel placed the noodle axe on the turntable and gave it a nudge.
“Noodle axe, professional quality,” the cataloging system announced.
“It’s being claimed by its owner.”
“Theodric the Slayer,” the man informed them. “It’s my professional name.”
