“I’m wondering which of his people is that fast on their feet,” Azov replied languidly. “They’re being brazen, brash, trying to jump ahead.”
“I mean, we could find out…” I started in gingerly.
“Yes, of course, we could,” Azov sighed. “I could send my boys after everyone you have working at the paper, and by morning they’d tell us everything they know. But what’s the point of that?”
“You’re right, that’s not an option. If things had played out differently…” Zimin picked a cigar out of his box. “Well, then there might be a good reason to try that. But now? They’re putting all their cards right there on the table, and that can only mean one thing: they have a plan, and it’s a good one.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty much a given that it’s one of their long plays—they sure love them.” Valyaev was unusually gloomy. “And look at how they’re setting up: Jeremiah is back in Moscow after disappearing off the radar for this long, plus they have Urentsev, and maybe one of the old hands we don’t know about. Anyone else could be in the city, too.”
“Of course, it’s a long play,” Azov said, his words coming slowly. “That’s a given. They’re playing Kif, though, I think.”
“Maybe not?” Zimin let out a ring of smoke. “They made him the linchpin and purposely pitched him, letting us think they’re playing him for some reason. But isn’t that too obvious? Too transparent? And why would they ask him to say hello to us?”
“The options are endless, and we have barely anything to go on,” Azov replied, taking a cookie from the cart. “It’s too early for me to make a call.”
I coughed.
“There’s one thing. We could find the rat without all your basements and torture.”
“I’m listening.” Azov leaned his head toward me.
“Whoever made the suggestion to go to the club is the person we’re looking for.” I wasn’t sure why, though I suddenly felt like an idiot voicing an idea that had just made perfect sense in my head.
“Well, sure,” Azov said, taking a bite out of the cookie. “But I’d be willing to bet that none of your people remember who made the suggestion, not to mention if it was a man’s voice or a woman’s.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Just because. You weren’t there; Vika, the second person who might remember, was distracted; and everyone else, from what I gather, was dancing—and in the dark. They were all tipsy, as well, so nobody will have any idea who whispered, I’d imagine, the word ‘club.’ After that, everyone yelled ‘let’s hit the club!’ I mean, sure, go ahead and ask everyone tomorrow to see what they say, but I think that’s what they’ll tell you.”
How did he know that Vika was distracted? Or are we just so predictable that he can read us like a book?
“So what are we going to do?” Zimin took a long pull on his cigar.
“We have to go see the Old Man,” Valyaev said, slapping his thighs. “No two ways about it.”
Zimin looked at me, and Valyaev shook his head. Thank God.
“Okay, Kif, you head home—you did good work today. There’s nothing for you to do up there right at this moment,” Zimin said, pointing up at the ceiling. “Although I’m already certain that you’re going to get invited up for a chat, probably very soon.”
“Hey, what did that animal say about the steamboat?” Valyaev got up from his chair. “Do you really need one?”
“What would I possibly do with one?” I asked, arms spread. “Seduce girls on the Volga?”
Valyaev made a face.
“Kif,” Azov said, pulling a handkerchief out of his pants pocket and dabbing his forehead, “don’t pretend you’re an idiot—why did you mention the dwarf boat to Jeremiah?”
“I just wanted to see if that trick would work,” I smiled slyly. “I was curious.”
“An opportunist,” Zimin said with an approving nod. “Why not?”
“Okay, look, Kif.” Azov looked at me seriously. “I don’t think we’ll see each other in the near future, and I doubt our…mm…‘friends’ are going to be hounding you—they’ll probably hit pause for now. But if I’m wrong, and they come at you sooner, the first thing you should remember is that they can’t do anything to you. They don’t need that, and it would be really bad for them, just so long as you don’t go after them yourself. I doubt that will happen, however, since I know how judicious and careful you are. Second, whatever they tell you or show you about Raidion—documents, videos, whatever—don’t put too much stock in it, but do look through it carefully and remember everything. That’s crucial: we need to know what they have. We’ll also get a chance to see where they might be getting their information from.”
“Also, Kif,” Zimin said, putting out his cigar, “I’m not going to confirm or deny how dirty our hands might be. All I’ll say is that nobody has clean hands, except maybe babies still in the womb. The rest of us all, one way or another, have past sins weighing us down. There isn’t much else to say about us or them. I think you’ll make your own decision about who you want to work with, just please be very careful about what you say. They’re great at using people’s mistakes against them.”
I found Vika waiting for me nervously when I got home.
“What happened?” was the first thing she asked. “Why did Zimin call me instead of you?”
“Nothing happened,” I replied nonchalantly as I hugged her. “The bosses saw our latest issue, and they wanted to tell your humble servant how much they loved it.”
“You’re hiding something, Nikiforov, you’re hiding something.” Vika waved a finger in front of my nose. “But screw it. Are you hungry? No? Then let’s go to bed.”
***
When I woke up the next morning, on my own and half an hour before my alarm, Vika was already gone. She’d left me a pile of syrniki[7] covered with a plate. As I ate them, I thought back on what had really been an incredibly packed day—brutal. The previous few months had flown by in a frenzy of activity so fast-paced that I had to wonder if someone upstairs had collected all the adventures I was slated to have in my life, smooshed them up, and threw them at me all at once. That funniest part was that I was starting to like it…
I took over the watch from Steve again, though he didn’t bother getting on my case for being late again. I figured he was feeling better with the end of the trip so close.
“Did we already leave the Cold Caves?” I asked him.
“Yes, during the night,” the warrior replied, shaking his head reproachfully. “You slept through the whole thing.”
“Oh, whatever,” I said blithely. “Maybe I’ll see more if I come back with you guys.”
Steve looked at me dubiously and went below. Johnny Tray, who was my watch partner again, padded his bare feet away toward the bow. Maybe he’s not my watch partner—maybe I’m his? Doesn’t matter.
Two familiar blockheads wandered out onto the deck: Dvaly, who was completely out of mushrooms and therefore in a foul mood, and the always unflappable Snoldy in his heavy chainmail.
“Ah, the snitch!” Dvaly said to me, continuing in a fervent and sincere tone. “I hope you get nothing, and that you get sucked into those paddles!”
“It’s good to see you, too, mushroom boy,” I replied in kind. “About ready to do some pick work? Oh, how I envy you!”
“Screw you,” Dvaly said, accompanying that with an inappropriate gesture. “I’ve never worked a day in my life, and I don’t plan on starting now! The boat only stops at the mines on the way back, and I don’t plan on being here when it does. As soon as we get to the city and drop anchor, we’re getting off this boat.”
I spat over the side.
The boat was sailing through a fairly narrow channel, hedged in on both sides by cliffs that looked to stretch all the way to the top of the cave. It was great, since there wasn’t anywhere for creatures to hide, and we couldn’t get lost. I just hoped it was like that straight through to the end…
The cliffs ended suddenly, we splashed i
nto deeper water, and the landscape on either side changed: there were ledges basically as high as the gunwale, more of those ruins on either side, someone leaping off the edge… Wait, what?
“A-ah!” someone yelped from the fore end of the deck.
That sage had been gravely mistaken, and Johnny Tray shouldn’t have taken off his chainmail boots. A black blade held by a long-lipped drogter had sunk clear through one of his feet to nail it to the deck. Johnny was trying to fight off two more with his sword, and that was just the beginning—another group of the beasts were just about to jump over onto the deck.
I have no idea how I was able to grab my sword in time to parry the blow aimed for my neck, but I was.
“The bell,” I yelled. “Snoldy, ring the bell!”
Chapter Sixteen
In which water travel proves to be unpredictable.
Snoldy was obviously smarter and more courageous than his mushroom-loving friend, who dove under a bench in terror, because he rolled over to where the bell was hanging and yanked on the rope a couple times. The brassy gong echoed around the cave walls, mixing with Tray’s dying cries. The group that had jumped him was finishing the job, and soon my yells joined the chorus as one drogter after another pounced onto the deck. The running footsteps of the guard added to the racket—I wasn’t sure why they’d heard the bell, but not Johnny’s yelling. The quest needs a little polishing, I guess.
My sword flashed around me, and I noticed that the bell had stopped ringing. The next feint told me why: Snoldy had collapsed to his knees on the deck, his head resting against the bell structure and a black trickle of blood running down his back. I felt a pang of remorse for him—he’d been a much better dwarf than his friend.
“You die!” yelped one of the drogters, practically throwing himself chest-first onto my sword.
“Hagen, are you alive?” I heard Max call.
I didn’t say anything—there were more pressing issues on my plate. I’d caught the heroic drogter with my sword, needless to say, but I couldn’t throw him off the blade. That left me with little more than my legs to beat off the other two attackers.
“Wheel ours!” someone shouted from above the captain’s position above us. “Now we break ship! Light ones all drown like they should. Ah-h!”
“Ah-h!” the rest of the drogters echoed back as they desperately fought us.
The ship veered to the side, happily, not too hard. It wasn’t the Crisna—the river was narrow and flanked by sheer rock.
“Steve, Jayce, take the wheelhouse,” Max yelled. “Control the wheel or we’ll all drown!”
I finally got the drogter off my blade, though by that time the other two with their hanging lips had pinned me up against the gunwale. I was doing my best to fight them off, but they’d landed a couple shots—and I knew I was a goner if they were joined by a third. It was a good thing there weren’t any other players on the ships, so no one to take me things. Maybe I can ask someone…
The ship once again rocked from side to side, heaving me to and fro along with it, and just then a black blade slashed into the wood where I’d been standing a split-second before.
“Hr-r,” the drogter yelled, spraying spittle in all directions.
“Ew!” I grimaced.
The battle raged up one side of the deck and down the other, swords ringing and voices shouting.
“Max, we have the wheel,” I heard Steve call—and that was great news. The ship’s bow had just about been scraping up against the cliffs.
But I’d cheered up too early. The ship immediately veered in the other direction, the helmsman apparently having decided to head toward the middle of the river. But the turn was too sharp. I was thrown against the gunwale yet again, and I happened to hit precisely where the wood had been chipped away by the drogter’s sword. It didn’t hold up, needless to say, and the pair of drogters and I tumbled over into the water.
“Damn it!” was all I could say when I came up for air. It was just a good thing I hadn’t fallen into the wheel—a little to the left, and I wouldn’t have come up at all. One blade giving me a love tap on the head would have done me in.
The ship sailed off with current, and the only person who had seen me fall in was the damn mushroom-eater. At least, his happy cry was the only one I heard.
“I’m a prophet! Didn’t I say that guy would fall in?”
I splashed around, realizing that I was about to head to the bottom—my armor was dragging me in that direction. But then I felt my elbow hit something, and I let out a happy yelp when I saw that it was a piece of bulwark I’d knocked off when I broke through the gunwale. I grabbed onto it like a child reaching for a piece of candy.
Just then something grabbed my belt and pulled down hard.
“Ah, Light one, you die!” croaked the drogter when he appeared on the surface after letting go of my belt. He threw himself on my shoulders in an attempt to drown me.
“Screw you!” I yelled, trying to throw off his hands without letting go of my sword or the wood that was my only chance of surviving.
“Pfkrfrf,” the disgustingly slippery and foul creature gurgled as his fingers relentlessly clawed at me.
“I’m going to…” I was finally able to get free, and I sank my sword into his head.
“A-a-ah…” The drogter let go and disappeared beneath the water only to pop up a little farther to my left.
“Take that!” I said as I jabbed at him with my sword. I wasn’t able to thrust as hard underwater as I would have liked, but it was still enough to finish off the beast.
You unlocked Heirs of Underground Armies, Level 1.
To get it, destroy another 49 drogters.
Reward:
+5% orientation in caves
Title: Bane of Twisting Paths
To see similar messages, go to the Action section of the attribute window.
Wait, an action, too? What the hell is going on?
But I didn’t even have time to think about what I should do next. While I’d been floundering around with the drogter, and then as I took a second to gather my wits, the gentle current had carried me along to a bend in the river. Once I’d rounded it, the water started moving much faster, and it was deeper, too. It felt like I’d suddenly been dropped into a well. Apparently, there was some underground spring there, or maybe something else of that nature—I didn’t know, since I’m not a speleologist.
The current rushed me downstream. I did my best to kick away, but that didn’t help. All it got me was a few collisions with the rocky banks that knocked off some percentage points of health.
Soon, however, the river relaxed again, and I saw what looked like a sand bar in front of me and to the left. I used my free arm to pull myself in that direction.
I pulled myself out of the water, pausing on all fours as I tried to catch my breath. It was just a good thing that it wasn’t real life, I thought, as I’d have been pinned to the bottom of the river by my armor long before that. Sometimes I’m glad it’s not 100% realism… Then it also occurred to me to wonder why I hadn’t gotten an achievement like “Swimmer” or “Bather.” Strange.
“Light one!” a drogter’s voice rang out. “Ah-h!”
“Ah-h!” a chorus of at least ten other voices responded.
“Nothing for Light one in our cave. Light one stupid, Light one almost dead.”
I looked up to see a drogter mocking me with a good dozen of his long-lipped friends behind him.
“If Light one get on knees, Light one do right,” the underground dweller said, continuing to ridicule me. “Wait for us to chop head.”
“Screw you,” I wheezed, standing up. Water poured out of my equipment—the feeling wasn’t my favorite.
“Bad to get up, harder kill you,” the drogter complained, his eyes narrowing. “You can get light death. Get on knees and die light.”
“Yeah, right,” I sighed.
My head, unlike my failing body, was sharp and thinking clearly, even after having fallen into
the water and looked certain death in the eye. I had to laugh: it was just my luck to die somewhere I would never be able to get my things back from even as I knew nobody else would ever find them. I strongly suspected that I was one of the first players to ever find himself in that desolate area.
The landscape around the sand bar was pleasant: there was the sand bar itself, a good five meters long, and then a half-ruined staircase the drogters were crowded onto. Above it were picturesque ruins. It struck me that at least I’d die somewhere beautiful—it was an awfully slim silver lining, though a silver lining it was. Everything else was bad. A waste of three days. Seriously?
“Gfyrk,” the drogter said, either giving a command or calling someone’s name, and stepped to the side.
A hefty drogter stepped down from the stairs, and I noticed that one of his drooping lips was even pierced—there was a ring sticking out of it. He came over to stand across from me, held his sword at the ready, and mumbled something to himself.
If they’re going to fight me one by one, maybe I have a chance after all. Their levels weren’t all that bad—the one I was about to fight was two levels below mine. I also had the Shadow Brigade warriors and my wolf in reserve. They were better saved for later, though, I decided.
Our swords clashed, sparks showered in the gloom, and the drogter tried to slice my legs out from under me with his next strike. I jumped over it, and my sword came down on his neck.
“Gfarttshsh,” my opponent hissed.
Crouching slightly and holding his sword out in front of him with both hands, he watched my every move. Meanwhile, all I could do was hope none of the other drogters had a bow. If they do, it’s over.
“Rhakkh!” The pierced drogter’s sword whistled down from above and clanged on the rocks where I’d just been standing, opening up his side. Without a second’s hesitation, I slammed my blade into him.
“Akhrrr!” he howled, straightening up, throwing his head back in pain, and showing me his back.
Sicilian Defense Page 21
