Sicilian Defense

by Andrey Vasilyev

  “What?” I asked listlessly. “Let me sleep, woman!”

  “Are you kidding me? You’ve been sleeping for more than twelve hours! I was starting to get worried!”

  I opened my eyes in surprise to see a worried and not-completely-dressed Vika.

  It turned out that she’d visited the beauty salon, and when she came back she found me sleeping on the couch. I didn’t wake up at eight or at nine, I didn’t react to the smell of fried pork and potatoes; I just slept, slept slept… Then my alarm went off, and that didn’t do anything. Vika started to get nervous, so she shoved me in the side. Nothing. With no other options, she pulled out the heavy artillery, and, thank God, I really was just sleeping. She’d started to wonder…

  “That happens with me,” I said a little guiltily. “Don’t worry, I’m not planning on dying any time soon.”

  “You idiot!” she said, turning and heading into the bathroom.

  ***

  Life at the office had found a rhythm, and everyone had figured out their place in the pecking order. The three veterans were writing articles and putting the issue together, leaving the boring little jobs for the newcomers. They, in turn, had also found their niche: Zhilin managed the flow of materials and made sure the office was liveable, while Tasha had taken on all the hustle and bustle that surrounded the contests. She sorted through the replies we got, made sure the winners got their prizes, and stayed in touch with Di, with whom she’d found some kind of common ground—a hobby or something they both had. Soloveva made sure she had a finger in all the different pies, letting everyone know what an integral part of the team she was. That was especially true when she was around me or Vika, who she’d accepted as part of the management team. And Shelestova…ah, Shelestova. She nonchalantly laughed at everyone, making sharp, if harmless jokes at just about everyone’s expense. She listened to Soloveva’s plans with a grave expression on her face, nodding her head and arching her eyebrows as she did. It always looked like she was getting the picture and even appreciating what she was listening to, but as soon as Soloveva stopped to wait for praise, Shelestova gave her a concise explanation of why exactly her plans were absolute nonsense. And she was always right. She called Zhilin the team’s “papa,” saying that “mama” and “grandma” didn’t fit—he was a guy, after all. My original three idiots were the “three-headed dragon,” and the second head, Yushkov, wasn’t allowed to breathe when the other two were smoking. She didn’t want him to spontaneously combust. Only Tasha escaped her barbs, and that was probably because she really couldn’t have cared less. Cracking jokes just isn’t fun when you aren’t getting a reaction. To that point, Shelestova had also avoided making me or Vika the butt of her jokes.

  With all that said, her work was sterling. The news column in the next issue was selected and composed flawlessly.

  “Good work,” I told her sincerely. “Seriously.”

  “Oh, it’s all for you, boss,” Shelestova said, breathing heavily. Her eyes, as usual, flashed wickedly. “I was up all night just thinking about what I could do to make you happy!”

  I sighed. She didn’t change, and I had no idea how she was still alive. Behaving like that, I was surprised nobody had killed her… Whatever—you want it, you got it.

  “What were you doing home alone?” I asked, shaking my head. “You should have come over to my place so we could think about it together.”

  “If you didn’t have a certain someone there with you every night, I might drop by to talk about, you know, this and that.” Shelestova walked toward the doorway, hips swaying, before turning at the door. “There’s no point as long as you have that certain someone living with you.”

  And with that, she stepped out of my office. I sat there for another five minutes thinking about what she said, but I couldn’t figure out what she wanted—it was a simple phrase, but what did she mean by that last part? Maybe she just wanted me to take it at face value. Or maybe she was joking, like she always does. I finally decided to just forget women and their riddles as a whole, and Shelestova in particular. How do they keep their own thoughts straight?

  Ultimately, I left the office at around two. I was scheduled to meet with Gedron at five, and I still needed to read the forum and visit the auction before our meeting. There were some things I had to sell, others I needed to pick up—some of my old things were still there, and they had to have racked up quite the fine.

  After I read through the forum thread about bear bile, I pushed my chair back, my mind awash in burdensome, nebulous thoughts. If I’d had a good idea what to offer Gedron as pay for his services, after reading what I did, I realized that I was far less certain. The bile turned out to be in scarce supply, making it incredibly valuable. Twenty-five grams of the stuff added to a crafted weapon when it was being made gave it two random attributes and two random properties. You could take some super-rare recipe, giving your blade all kinds of different stuff, and then throw in those four attributes. You walked away with an uber-weapon that was incredibly powerful and just as valuable.

  Because of that, craftsmen couldn’t get enough of it, especially since it was so rare. There was no particular place you were guaranteed to find it—all you could do was hope you’d come across a random bear. There were locations where bears were raised and slaughtered for days on end, but still there was nothing. But then some noob would take out a Level 6 bear, get 50 grams of bile, and sell it to a vendor because they didn’t know what they had. A few topics on the forums were full of unlucky players tearing out their hair when they realized that they’d burned their lottery ticket and happily scattered the ashes in the wind. And there I was with a quarter of a liter that I’d thought about handing Gedron as a throw-in with the set boots. I guess I’m one of those noobs. It’s a good thing I read the forums before I offered it to him.

  The next thing I had to figure out was if I actually needed the bile. Actually, that’s not the right question. I needed to figure out if I’d offer it to Gedron if he dug in his heels, or if I’d hold onto it in case I needed an iron-clad argument or a good chunk of change in the future. What else can I offer him? Set items were good, and even valuable, but I wasn’t sure one of them would be enough to cover what I was going to ask for. I did have the bear skin, as well. Plus, there was the Level 100 mage ability scroll, the emerald, and, if I dug deep enough in my chest, something else I could find. Okay, we’ll talk first and see how it goes.

  ***

  The storage penalty had, indeed, built up, but it wasn’t too bad. I paid it and put my things back on the auction at a bargain barrel price just to recoup something from them. Then I went looking for bile to see what the price was, though I didn’t find a single lot. The forums had been right: it really was rare.

  Then I put all my renowned Borderlander items up for sale as a single lot. Whoever they belonged to may have been famous, but his name was lost to history and he hadn’t been that wealthy—his things were just rare, with very average attributes. The only plus was that they looked great, as they all fit the gelts’ pretentious, artsy style. The sheath and cloak even matched. In a word, they were perfect for someone who was all about looking good. It was just a shame I didn’t have a kilt to go with them, as that would really have rounded off the lot.

  Oddly enough, they sold before I even had the chance to walk out of the building. I should have priced them higher.

  At five, I left the auction building and looked around to see where Gedron was.

  “You’re going places,” I heard him say from nearby. The head of the Wild Hearts, it turned out, was smiling at me ironically from just a couple steps away. “Both your level, and even just…well, you carry yourself differently. Something like that.”

  “You live and learn,” I said, making a happy face, hugging a surprised Gedron, and patting him on the shoulder. “Life will do that to you. Here, let’s step over there.”

  We walked away from the auction house, and Gedron glanced at me warily.

  “Why didn�
�t you want to meet in the duhan? It’s quieter there, and we could just sit and talk.”

  “There are too many eyes there,” I replied frankly. “It’s ridiculous how many nosey players there are these days.”

  “They could be here, too,” Gedron grunted.

  “But we just happened across each other here. Didn’t you see how excited I was to see you?”

  “You sly dog,” Gedron said, squinting at me approvingly. “You’re in deep, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not even sure,” I said with a shrug. “It’s all still hazy, not really making sense yet.”

  “Well, I don’t know about everything, but there’s nothing hazy about your old clan,” Gedron said as he scratched his nose. “I heard Elina lit into you, blacklisted you in front of everyone, and would have made your life a living hell if there hadn’t been people there to stick up for you.”

  “Who told you that?” I asked innocently.

  “Just people,” Gedron replied ironically. “People told me. You know, little birdies.”

  “Thank the people for me,” I said with a bow. “If they need to be rewarded, let me know.”

  “Okay, forget it.” Gedron turned serious. “So what’s up?”

  “I’ll be straight with you: I need backup. Maybe thirty fighters, five archers, and two or three healers.”

  “Oh, wow.” Gedron scratched his head. “What will my clan get from the quest?”

  “I have something I can offer you,” I said, trying to be as tempting as I could. “The services of your clan will be paid in full.”

  “Hold on a second,” Gedron said, his face darkening, “this isn’t a quest?”

  “It’s a quest,” I sighed, “though it’s just for me, not for a group—sorry.”

  It hit me right then: why wasn’t it for a group? The quest was definitely a tough one… Although, to be fair, there was nothing in the description about a particular location. If I thought hard enough, I probably could have come up with a way of beating the quest alone. But that would have taken time…

  “Are you mixing us up with someone else?” Gedron asked, annoyed. “We aren’t mercenaries; we’re a normal clan.”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions,” I said, hold up my hands. “Listen to the whole offer.”

  “Okay?” He looked at me.

  “If I wanted to hire mercenaries, I would have gone and hired mercenaries. The Free Companies would have been perfect, and two companies would have been plenty of people.”

  “Plenty of money, too.”

  “But you haven’t heard what I’m offering in return,” I said with a crooked smile. See you, bile… I’d hoped to get by with losing just a set item and the scroll, but Gedron would definitely have turned that down. He was taking my offer personally, for some reason. I must have missed something—his vanity, for example. Even with that, however, I realized that all my thoughts and plans for the Wild Hearts had been way off-base: some boots, some scrolls, and a skin. Child’s play… I wasn’t dealing with that kind of person, unfortunately.

  “I don’t think you have anything that could convince me to give you people,” Gedron said, his voice fairly stern. “Sorry, but your problems are your problems.”

  “Gedron, put it this way. We both know what it took to hold your clan together and get it moving in the right direction again. I respect you for your position, for how you don’t give up, for your intelligence…there’s a lot I respect about you. And so I’m not going to try to argue with you. Let me just say that this is what I’m prepared to give your clan if you’ll help a friend out.”

  I pulled out the jar of bile and showed it to Gedron.

  He knew how to take a hit, but he still let out a low whistle.

  “A quarter of a liter,” I said. “I’ll give it to you in exchange for help from your people. You’re not mercenaries; you’re helping me. I won’t get where I need to go without you—not a shot!”

  “Where are you going?” Gedron was obviously thinking, either about whether to agree with me or about who to send with me. “And put that jar away. What are you waving it around for?”

  “Kallidon Forest, tomorrow, at eleven. We’re going to take out a local witch, Old Lady Goud.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard of her. What did she do to you?”

  “Nothing to me,” I said, deciding to be honest with him—it really wasn’t a secret. “I got in with an NPC order and unlocked a series of quests. They don’t like the witch, so they sent me after her. I do have about a dozen of the local highlanders, and they might be good enough to take out the witch herself, though we have to get there first. And that’s where your warriors come in.”

  “Well, you said yourself, there are the Free Companies. What’s wrong with them?” Gedron asked tentatively. It sounded like he was trying to answer a question for himself. He really is principled.

  “They’re almost all NPCs,” I replied truthfully. “And I don’t need NPCs; I need real, live people with non-linear thinking and a good head on their shoulders. I’m not sure why, but I have a feeling this is going to be tough, and I need people who can use their heads as well as fight. Mercenaries aren’t great at that. There are a few people there who can figure out what they need to do, though most of them are no more and no less than good soldiers. You always have to keep an eye on them. I’m not a colonel; I’m–”

  “You’re a lucky son of a bitch,” Gedron said with a touch of envy. “Do you know how much money you’re holding in your hands right now?”

  “There isn’t anything like it at the auction,” I said. “Though, from what I read on the forums, it’s a lot.”

  “A lot is right,” Gedron grunted. “Let’s put it this way: you’re holding a very nice car with all the bells and whistles. And if you put that in gaming terms… I’m a principled guy, so I’m not going to lie—seeing that flask did it for me. You need people, and you’ll get them. Principles are good, but only to a point.”

  “Then what were you thinking about?”

  “I was wondering if I should try to pull one over on you,” Gedron replied. “But I decided not to. You’ve been honest with me, so you deserve to be treated fairly. I’ll give you thirty warriors Level 70 and higher—sorry, that’s all I have. You’ll get ten archers and three healers, as well, which is all we have, too. That should be enough, especially since you already have some people of your own. That’s what you said, right?”

  “Yes, just not enough for something this big.” What I did next surprised even me. “Here, go ahead and take this.”

  Gedron accepted the flask and smiled strangely.

  “The service we’re offering doesn’t cost this much, so I’m reserving the right to send you something else as compensation. Does that work for you?”

  “I’m all for that. You think I’m going to say no?”

  “I didn’t doubt it.” Gedron squinted at me. “Maybe you’ll think about joining us? Your friend Dorn is catching on, so why can’t you? And how do you have me chasing you like some cute girl?”

  “I certainly could,” I sighed. “It’s just that I don’t want to go anywhere right now. I’m happy the way things are.”

  “Up to you,” Gedron said, staring at me. “Well, shall we shake on it?”

  “Deal,” I said with surprise, our hands meeting.

  Gedron exhaled.

  “You have no idea how valuable this is.”

  “I don’t,” I agreed. “I’m no craftsman, so it would be hard for me to imagine.”

  Gedron shook his head, his eyebrows raised.

  “Okay, so my people will be there tomorrow, at eleven in the morning. Wait a minute, where is there?”

  “Agberdin, Morrey, the Borderlands. There’s a bar there, and we’re meeting right near it.”

  “I’m going to send you Ragnar, too,” Gedron decided. “He’s learning under my clanmaster, and he’s a great coordinator. It won’t hurt to have him along.”

  “Thank you,” I said, brightening up. “I’m not a g
reat coordinator, and I doubt anyone will listen to me, anyway.”

  “That’s not your problem,” Gedron sharply. “And don’t worry about a leak, either.”

  “Oh, this isn’t much of a secret. It’s a standard line, anyone can get it.”

  “Mmhmm.” Gedron didn’t look like he believed me. Not much I can do about that. “Oh, and one more thing: not a word to anyone about the bile or about how you gave it to me. We don’t need that.”

  I held a finger to my lips.

  Gedron clarified the time and place of the meeting one more time before rushing off. I think he was afraid I was going to call off the deal.

  Maybe I was a fool for agreeing to what wasn’t a very balanced exchange, but I didn’t really feel like I was losing out. There was something inside that told me I was doing the right thing, and I was used to trusting my gut. I’d been experiencing an avalanche of events, people, adventures, and benefits, with quite a few of the latter, and I figured that fortune would eventually turn its back on me if I kept it all clutched in my fists. Greed leaves you poor, as I always say, and I didn’t need the bile, anyway. It earned me even more brownie points with Gedron, not to mention whatever else he was going to give me. Sure, I could have found Joker to get some real money… But then Zimin and Valyaev would have come after me. What are you doing putting a rare reagent on the black market? Set items were fine, but something like that? I wasn’t sure. Regardless, what was done was done. If I was a fool, I was a fool. You can’t run from your fate.

  With those thoughts running through my head, I got to the duhan and was met at the door by Ibrahim.

  “Ah, hello, my friend! It’s been too long, eh?” He threw his arms wide to embrace me.

  “Hi, Ibrahim,” I replied, hugging him back. “Yes, I’ve had quite a bit going on.”

  “Wars and travels…the two things men always have to look forward to. The second floor, as usual?”

  “You remember everything!” I wagged a finger at him, and he smiled.

  I was just finishing my second glass of wine when the staircase creaked and I heard Miurat call over to me.