He bared his teeth. “Can’t help it. I’m a funny guy.”
We stood around for nearly fifteen minutes before the paunchy guy came back. He made a motion of his hand, and the lanky guy who’d done most of the talking nodded. “Right. Go in. I’d recommend you keep your hands where everyone can see ‘em.”
There were three more guards leaning against the compound wall on the inside, who stood and flanked us as we stepped over the threshold. The paunchy guy gave us the up-and-down. “Arms out. You all get searched.”
“Ugh.” Karalti scowled. “I shouldn’t have to do this. I was born to be more of a queen than this old witch will ever be.”
“Tidbit.” I held out my arms for the pat down, like I had so many times in the Army. “We need every lead on the Warsinger we can get. Just chill.”
Suri endured the search with the same stoic detachment that I did. Vash, on the other hand, wriggled and squirmed all the way through it.
“Hey, if you’re going to rub my chest like that, could you at least tweak the nips?” he jokingly asked in Tuun.
I glanced over. “Don’t give them any ideas, man.”
“Tell your pet mountain pigs to shut up, will you?” the guy patting me down snapped to Suri.
[Slums Captain has locked your Inventory! You can only access non-combat items.]
I frowned as the [Slums Captain] finished up. By Suri’s expression, I could tell the same thing had happened to her. “Alright, you’re clear to go.”
“It must be some kind of ability they have,” Karalti said. “I can’t get to any of my things.”
“Me either. I’m starting to take this Davri lady more seriously.” I fell in behind Suri as we were led deeper into the compound.
We were led through a series of horseshoe archways and down an arcade, through a heavy wooden gate – also guarded – and into a second, enclosed courtyard. Rays of sunlight, the Undercity's most precious resource, strayed down through the cracks of the city above and played along a series of garden beds that grew around the perimeter. There were more guards back here, though they were more relaxed. One was strumming a guitar-like instrument. Four others played dominos. And at the back…
“Casper?” I hissed, mostly to myself.
“Who?” Vash asked.
Casper looked much as I remembered from our brief time at Fort Palewing: a big, dark-skinned guy with a short ponytail of tight cornrows. He was built like a tank, with a big chest and brawny arms, but he played some kind of ranged Rogue Path. When I’d met him, he’d had a basic longbow. Now, he was better equipped, with a fancy recurved horn bow and nice half-plate armor that crackled with seams of embers.
His eyes widened. I shook my head, sharply, as a door to the inner house opened and we got our first look at the self-styled Queen of the Slums.
Davri the Laundress was both younger and much, much taller than I’d expected. She had to duck the doorway as she swished out in a gold-trimmed indigo sari, the sash strung with belts of thinly beaten coins. Like Suri, she was athletically built, but Davri was as slim as a willow and almost flat in the chest. Her scarlet hair was dressed in gold and bound back in a plait as thick as my fist, falling almost to her ankles. She was a proud, hard beauty, but pretty as she was, I didn't like her eyes. Unlike Suri, Davri had the dead, hollow eyes of a bonafide psychopath.
The woman strode ahead of her bodyguards, two slender, wiry men in owl masks: men who looked just like my attempted assassin. She flashed us an empty, pleasant smile as our paunchy guide hurried over with an ornate director’s chair for her. Once it was set up, she sat down gracefully, crossing her ankles and folding her hands in her lap.
“Well. What have my faithful menfolk brought me today?” she said, looking over Suri. “A bit older, though still a beauty. But who is this lovely, exotic little flower, with her pale skin and black hair?”
I tensed as Davri’s eyes roamed over Karalti, who bristled under the scrutiny.
“She’s not the reason I’m here, sultira,” Suri said tersely. “I’m here to trade in artifacts and information: the girl is mine.”
“Is she, now?” The woman finally flicked her flat yellow eyes to me, giving me a cursory look, and then to Vash. She lingered on his brutally scarred face. “My man here tells me you have an artifact verified by Aksil the Appraiser. And you… you are Suri Ba’Hadir, formerly of Dhul Fiquar, now a mere vagabond. Though, I will say, that armor says you've done well for yourself, little sister. Very nice armor. I like it.”
Casper uncomfortably wandered over from the back of the courtyard to stand by Davri’s left. He couldn’t look me straight in the eye. There was no sign of his old Warrior companion, Nethres.
“Thanks. Me too,” Suri said, keeping half an eye on Casper. “So, do you want to see what we brought?”
“That depends what you expect to get for it,” Davri said sweetly.
“Information,” Suri replied. “And a connection. We want to meet the Morning Stars.”
Casper stiffened.
“Oh! You wish to become a member of the cause, do you?” The Laundress tilted her head, her earrings and hairpiece chiming softly. “Well, by all means, show me what you have.”
Suri inclined her head toward me. I stepped forward, and pulled the necklace out of my collar. Davri seemed unimpressed.
“What is it?” she asked.
“A Shield of the Firmament,” Suri replied. “An artifact forged by Arch-Smith Ba’Nadi, one of Sachara’s husbands.”
“Ohhh. Exactly as Aksil’s messenger told me.” Davri leaned forward. “Here. Let me see it.”
I stepped up, but didn’t take the necklace off. Davri reached out with a slim hand and gently held it up off my chest, turning the medallion over to look at both sides. “What beautiful calligraphy. Would that I knew what I was looking at.”
“You don’t believe his assessment?” Suri’s mouth sloped to the side.
“I believe that everyone and their dog knows I wish to reclaim my rightful inheritance, and that fakes can be very convincing.” The Laundress let out a small, tinkling laugh. “Sorting the gold from the chaff requires a great deal more expertise than that mangy alley cat can offer. That is why I hired Mehkhet the Illuminator, but unfortunately, this Starborn oaf here managed to get himself killed while escorting the sage from his hideout in the over-city to my domain. Mehkhet was captured by the witch hunters. A very unfortunate turn of events for Casper, here.”
I glanced at Casper, who grimaced.
“Mehkhet is now quite possibly being burned at the stake while we speak,” Davri continued, gesturing gracefully toward the underside of the city above. “And until I have the opinion of a true expert, I cannot verify if what you’re hoping to share with me is valuable enough to gain access to the Morning Stars. You must understand: Everyone and their dog is hunting the revolutionaries right now. I cannot betray their identities to just anyone.”
Suri shrugged. “But?”
“But, there are ways to earn trust,” Davri said. “You look more competent than this idiot here. Rescue Mehkhet from the Soldier’s Quarter, and I will introduce you to the revolutionaries in my care. You will not find any other point of access, right now… everyone is on high alert after the Sultir declared that they were responsible for the destruction of Bhakhat Kasir, the fortress that stands between us and Napath. The general populace now believes the Morning Stars are sacrificing them to the undead on the altar of their ideals… that Napath will invade for the first time in a millennium because of their activities.”
Suri sighed. “Right. Give us the quest, then.”
Davri smiled. “I never thought you’d ask.”
Casper was slightly wild-eyed now. As discreetly as possible, he frantically shook his head. I was about to say something when Suri made a sound of affirmation, and a new quest alert appeared:
New Quest: A Candle in the Dark
The capital of Dakhdir, Dalim, is roiled by revolutionary unrest and retaliatory pogroms due
to the misrule of Dakhdir’s king, Sultir Yazid Khememmu. There are numerous splinter factions vying to bring the Sultir down, but the largest and most effective by far are the Morning Stars, nationalists who want to reinstate the ancestral Fireblooded Sacharan Dynasty, destroy the country’s caste system, and purge the upper castes – the nobles, priests, and scholars – who descend from the ethnic Asyut invaders that established the current Khememmu Dynasty.
Thanks to Aksil, you know that Davri the Laundress, one of the crime bosses of Dalim, has put her money on the revolutionaries and is hell-bent on proving that she is the direct and most viable descendant of Sachara the Demon Queen. She hopes that the Morning Stars will instate her as the new Queen of Dakhdir and Empress of the Shalid when the time comes.
Davri is offering a rather flimsy excuse to send you out to rescue Mehkhet, but based on his reputed knowledge of Sachara and her history, there is a very good chance he knows something about Sachara’s Warsinger, Withering Rose, and possibly even its last known location.
Rescue Mehkhet the Illuminator from the temporary jail that has been set up in a compound just aside of the Bulls of Heaven Square marketplace, and return him to Davri the Laundress to claim your rewards.
Difficulty: Hard
Rewards: 1400 EXP, access to the Morning Stars revolutionary faction, Knowledge (Sachara & the Warsingers), 2000 Dakhari dinari (400 Vlachian olbia)
Special: When you hand in this quest, Mehkhet the Illuminator must be alive to receive awards.
The last line of the quest was odd. Usually, you automatically failed an escort quest if the primary died, but this seemed to imply we could complete it regardless if we managed to rescue him or not.
Suri looked to me, Vash, and Karalti. “You all up for it?”
I glanced at Casper, who was shaking his head more vigorously now. “Sure. I’m game.”
Chapter 38
We found the Bulls of Heaven Square by following the smell of burning flesh and the sound of screams.
The four of us crouched on top of one of the tinkling mosaic canals, watching the perimeter of the jail from the cover of darkness. The witch hunters had turned an old barracks into a holding center, a compound that faced the market plaza. They were burning four mages at the stake, three humans and one Meewfolk. By the time we got there, the screams were dying down, the bodies still thrashing but completely engulfed in flames. An anxious crowd hooted and heckled the victims, throwing everything from mugs to dead rats onto the blazing pyres. The bonfires were large enough that we could feel the heat on our faces from the rooftops.
“By the order of the Sultir, we will cleanse this city of magical filth! These four were caught thanks to you, citizens of Dalim. No longer will we fear being Stranged by these criminals! No matter their caste or creed, all witches and sorcerers shall be burned!” The Witch Hunter Captain, who paraded up and down in front of the pyres, still clutched the torch he'd used to light them.
“Poor bastards.” Vash hawked in his throat, turned, and spat into the canal. “The Nine would weep to see this madness.”
It was hard to tear my eyes from the fire, but I made myself look away and studied the walls of the jail. From the outside, it looked just like an especially secure manor compound. Ten-foot walls topped with wicked bronze spikes surrounded a wide, bare perimeter yard crawling with guards. Six of them were crowding at the front gate, watching the proceedings with the furtive air of troops goofing off while on-duty. There were two [Sandstrider Snipers] pacing outside of the walls, their clawed steel feet crunching into the dirt road.
The house inside of the compound was surprisingly normal-looking. It was a big, squat complex made of plain white-washed adobe. The only notable things about it were its size and the lack of windows. There was a coach station that allowed prison wagons to be driven inside. Gates could be pulled across while it unloaded and prisoners walked into one of the buildings, and then the gates could be moved back and the coach driven out the other side.
“Hmm. That looks hard to get into.” Karalti sounded subdued, though she was the least disturbed of all of us by the display in the market square. The smell of cooking human flesh didn’t really bug her much.
“It really does.” As I had so many times, I reminded myself that Archemi was a game - and because it was a game, the guard patrol patterns were at least somewhat predictable. The only problem was the lack of save points. I'd noticed that you got second chances on most quests, but I wasn't counting on it here. I loved stealth games, but they weren't very forgiving once you caught the attention of fifty guards.
“Alright, ladies,” Vash said quietly. “How do you want to do this?”
“I think we're on the wrong side of the compound,” I said. “If we come from the alley, you and I can hop from the roofs over the wall to the top of that coach house. We can ghost in behind one of the patrols and take them out. Do you see that drainage channel over there?”
Vash narrowed his eyes. “Over where?”
I pointed at the other side of the compound. “Way behind the coach house, near the far wall.”
The Baru scowled. “You mean where that line of ants is marching?”
“Huh?” I closed my eyes to zoom my vision back, and flinched as he tapped me across the side of the head.
“I'm not a smug little mutant like you, eh?” he whispered. “I see the gate and the fence and some smudges about three hundred feet from here.”
“Oh.” Right. “Well, there's a grate back there. We can send the guards for a swim. Back up the toilets for fun and profit.”
“What about us?” Suri asked from my other side. “Karalti might make that jump, but good luck getting my rhino-sized arse over it without alerting every guard between here and the Sultir's palace.”
“We need a spotter, and you and I can radio each other,” I said. “Can you stay out here and keep an eye out for us?”
Suri's lips quirked, and she looked back over at the compound. “Gonna have to, unless Karalti can teleport me... oh, holy fuck.”
“What?” Vash and I said at the same time, turning to look. My jaw dropped. “Holy fuck.”
An important-looking man on an important-looking hookwing was trotting alongside another person of note. Violetta DeVrys rode side-saddle in a high-collared, ankle-length white dress totally unsuited to the desert heat. Her hair was drawn up into a severe bun, her face haunted and expressionless. The man - Dakhari, dressed in a fancier gold and turquoise version of the Witchhunter’s armor - gestured animatedly as he talked to her. He looked worried... as if he were trying to appease her as they trotted in through the gates to the jail.
“No fucking way.” I reached up to grip my hair, pulling on it. “Am I hallucinating? Is this all a bad dream? Why the fuck is she here? How the fuck did she know WE'd be here?”
“Hold on a moment, dog. Look at them with those eagle eyes of yours.” Vash's narrowed as he tracked them through the gate. “Neither of them know we're here. She's relaxed in the saddle, nor is she looking over her shoulder. She doesn’t sense anything amiss.”
“Her dragon isn't here, either.” Karalti swayed uneasily, gripping the edge of the wall.
“She's being discreet,” I said. “There's only one NPC of note in this facility - Sage Mehkhet. Mehkhet really must know something about the Warsinger. That's the only possible reason she’d be here.”
“Then we'd best hurry, or she will get his information before we do.” Vash rolled his neck, then silently slipped into the shadows of the building beside us and vanished.
After a couple months of bumbling through dungeons and battlefields and sneaking up on unsuspecting castle guards, I was less stealthy than Vash, but capable of still capable of holding my own in the sneak department. Karalti, with her ridiculous Dex and light armor, padded soundlessly across the roofs ahead of me while I picked my way across. The houses ringing the market were tall enough that we could make our way around the plaza without descending below the second-story roof level, but
as we got to the buildings across the alley from the back wall of the jail, we could see it wasn't going to be as easy as a jump, tuck, and roll. Three guards were loitering in the alley, smoking and talking beside an open grate. The guards had left their visored helmets arranged on top of a crate nearby, and seemed to be keeping an eye on the ladder that went down into the mid-level sewers.
“You thinking what I'm thinking?” I dropped my voice to a hoarse whisper as we sidled up to Vash.
“Take them out and get their armor.” He squatted on his heels just out of their gaze, watching the trio with the calculating, wary eyes of a hunting cat. “They're on a static post here, eh? Tempting as it is, we can't use disguises to walk in through the gates. They have a checkpoint set up, and their friends will know something's fucky.”
“They’re not good enough disguises to pass through the checkpoint,” I replied. “But if we're already in the yard when we put the disguises on...”
“Then no one will be the wiser.” Vash gave a short nod. “I like it.”
“Also, if we're dressed as guards, we can go in there, get the man we need, and put him in one of those armored prison coaches.” Karalti pointed at the one idling in the covered bay. “We should be able to just drive him out.”
“Hell yeah,” I said.
“Someone will walk around the compound and check in on these three,” Vash said. “Probably not often - maybe once an hour. We'll need to be out by then, or they'll raise the alarm.”
“Then we better hurry. Can you get behind the guy closest to the wall?”
“I can get into anyone's behind with enough effort.”
I choked back a laugh. “Alright, ready? On the count of five.”
When they nodded, I held up my hand, marking off each second by folding my fingers down. On five, we dropped. Vash vanished and reappeared behind the man facing us, and before any one of them could shout, we took them down: Vash and Karalti with their fists, and me with the haft of the Spear. Mine took the longest to drop, clawing and choking at the length of steel across his throat as we did a slow waltz toward the jail wall. Eventually, he sagged, and we were left in the dark and stillness of the alley with three unconscious guardsmen.
Warsinger Page 34
