I shrugged. "I do my best."
He nodded and nudged me toward the inn door. "Let's go in and have a taste of the local brew. Then we'll talk," he paused and added in a whisper, "Were you being followed?"
I shook my head. "No. A 200% guarantee."
"Oh really?" he sounded surprised. "Now I'm curious."
"Not as curious as I am."
He slapped my shoulder. "Go in now. I can already see we'll be there a while."
As if following the already-established tradition, Rrhorgus went for the table in the farthest and darkest corner. We didn't have time to sit down before a waiter arrived, promptly took our orders and dashed back toward the kitchen. It looked like my friend had been right: players sporting my kind of gear were rare visitors here.
He smiled. "Before we begin, I have a few hellos from your family to impart."
My heart fluttered. "Did you see Dmitry?"
"I did."
"How are they?"
"Sveta and Christina are fine. Your wife says that Christina is stable. She says they both miss you. They can't wait to see you. That's all Dmitry told me."
I'd always been amazed how much one can convey in a few short, simple statements. I wanted more. One always does. Especially in my situation. But I could understand my brother. He was playing it safe. You can't share your family affairs with a stranger, they're nobody's business. And Rrhorgus was a stranger. But even this brief message was like a breath of fresh air for me.
"Dude, I really appreciate it. You can't even imagine how I needed it."
He nodded.
For a while, we didn't say a word. I was thinking about my own problems. Rrhorgus was tactful enough to give me time to recover from the news.
The waiter broke the silence. "Your order, gentlemen!"
He unloaded his large tray, placing several steaming platefuls, two beer mugs and two sets of cutlery onto the table. "Enjoy your meal!"
With a curt bow, he disappeared.
"Ah! That's useful!" Rrhorgus rubbed his hands. "I haven't eaten anything since this morning! Cheers, man!"
We clanked our beer mugs and tucked in.
"The service is good here," Rrhorgus nodded approvingly in the direction of the waiter.
"Just as good as in Mellenville, if not better."
He guffawed. "Oh, yeah! You're a big city boy now, aren't you?"
I decided to move to business. "Who did you mean by "them" in your letter? Steel Shirts head hunters?"
"Not necessarily."
"Shantarsky?"
"Also. A few other top clan representatives, too. Including the Dead Clan."
"Oh. So many?"
He chuckled. "Did you say they'd already found you?"
"The Steel Shirts, yeah. Tanor."
Rrhorgus nodded. "I know him. He's a piece of work. Anybody else?"
"Not yet. But judging by the expression on your, er, face it might only be a matter of time. Did you know they had their spies in all guild central offices?"
"Sure. It's not mentioned very often but those who need to know are in the know. They approach me quite often about new players. I sell gear, don't I? No newb can escape my shop."
"I see. When was the first time they asked you about me?"
"Right after your Spider Grotto gig. Shantarsky's men started grilling Max, like, you and I were friends so we were bound to know your whereabouts. At the time, I was in occupational therapy."
"Health problems?"
He emitted a short laugh. "You could say that. I've been unable to walk for many years now. I'm wheelchair-bound."
"You never told me. Sorry."
He grinned. "What for? It wasn't you who fell asleep at the wheel. You didn't crash your car into the ditch. Did you? In which case, shut the fuck up and don't you dare feel sorry for me. I don't like it. If you absolutely need to know, I'm allergic to sympathetic stares and tearful exchanges about my everyday challenges. Just forget it. Don't make me regret telling you."
"It's all right, it's all right," I raised my hands in a mocking gesture. "I got it. I'm not saying a word."
"Much better," he took another sip of his beer. "Where were we? Oh yes. Shantarsky. Dmitry told me all about you and him. Fucking bastard! You might be interested to know that all of our guys quit and moved town after that incident. All but me, that is. You need to understand. The Digger's Store is my domain."
"Of course," I said. "It would have been stupid to pull the plug on it. Listen, I feel really bad about leaving without explaining anything to anyone. The guys must be mad at me."
"Leave it," he waved my apology away. "They weren't born yesterday. They understand you didn't mean to drag them into this thing you had with Shantarsky. Who are we to you, anyway? Nothing really. Fellow players, that's it. And even then... So just don't sweat it. On the contrary: Flint, Sandra, Greg, they all appreciate what you did. But Shantarsky's dogs have no shame, I can see. And the worst thing is, you can't put them in their place without harming yourself."
I waved his warning away. "It doesn't matter anymore."
He chuckled. "That's where you're wrong. It's only just starting, now."
That came as a surprise. "Or really? Don't you think it's too much fuss about some humble Digger? Even if he is a Master?"
"A Master, already?" he opened his eyes wide. "Dmitry told me you were one busy beaver, but this... Oh, well. You're right, anyway. We have a feeling that their unhealthy interest in your persona has more to it than just your skill level."
I sucked in a deep breath and mechanically touched the bridge of my nose, trying to rearrange the non-existent glasses. "You know what, man... I might actually accept Tanor's offer. Or his bosses' offer, rather. You need to understand. Time is an issue."
He smirked. "How much did they offer you?"
"Enough," I said, serious.
"Make sure you don't bust your gut."
"Why should I? It's a dry location and a nine-to-five job. All I need to do is farm some resources for the clan. It's night and day compared to what I'm doing now."
"They offered you to join the clan?" he sounded surprised. "They didn't waste their time."
"I was worried about it too. Then I thought that it might be proof of their serious intentions toward me."
He smirked again. "You bet."
"Listen, dude. If you have something to tell me, just spit it out."
He heaved a sigh and leaned back in his chair. "That's why I was looking for you. Not only to explain things but also to warn you, if possible. Apparently, I'm too late. They're going to monitor your movements now. I'm surprised you got here without a tail. Did you splurge on a portal scroll? Never mind. We'll talk about it later. Something in your cheeky mug tells me I'm in for a surprise."
I gave an all-knowing smirk.
"Well," Rrhorgus tensed up, "I think they know everything there is to know about your char."
I nodded. "That's Shantarsky."
He made an impatient gesture. "That's not what I'm talking about. This is something totally different. Basically, you see... I've been here for quite a while. I saw some of the top players in their newb underpants. The clan wars. I was one of those who started the Glasshouse."
"I know, you told me."
"Right. So. The Darkies had one hell of a scrap once. The mother of all battles!"
"What's that got to do with me?
He frowned. "Let me finish."
"All right, all right."
"At that time, the Light players were quite strong. They would habitually raid the Dark side. It was probably because they had a lot more registered players. Being a player of Light was sort of cool at the time. Forums were full of claims that all Darkies were wusses. You get the idea."
"I don't think they enjoyed it."
"They didn't. But as the saying goes, whatever doesn't kill us makes us stronger."
"You mean this scrap?"
"Exactly. Apparently, it was quite serious. They were fighting over some large castle t
hat made up part of several instances."
"Heh! I can imagine."
"So basically, once it was all over, dozens of clans went bust. But the two strongest ones were born: the Caste and the Independent Clan."
"From what I remember, they now have all of the top Dark players."
Rrhorgus nodded. "That's right. But there's one other thing. Very few people know about it. I do because at the time I used to follow it. I was curious, you know. I've even tried to look up the old forums that discussed it at the time."
"And?"
"Nothing. No search results. My old bookmarks all lead to some new promotional sites."
"It happens."
"Probably. Who am I to argue? In any case, I'm not too eager to look into it."
"Listen, dude, I'm sorry to interrupt you but what's that got to do with me?"
"It's what caused the conflict that's important," he went on as if not hearing me. "I had no idea! And I should have guessed, if not immediately when I met you, then at least when we celebrated your promotion. I sifted through the whole auction that day trying to find something for your race. And all I found was that ring. Statless, as well. Just a piece of junk jewelry."
He glanced at my hands, then looked me straight in the eye. "Funny I don't see it. Did you sell it?"
I felt uncomfortable under his gaze. "I can explain."
He shrugged. "Never mind. It can wait. I was talking about what triggered the Darkies' conflict. I did speak to you about the Mirror World phenomenon of dead races, remember?"
"Do I ever! I'm one of them myself."
He shook his head. "Not exactly, dude. Not quite."
Goosebumps broke out all down my spine. "What do you mean?"
"You're much more than just the last of a dead race. Both Dmitry and I think your char might be some sort of key."
I shook my head, uncomprehending. "A key. To what?"
He rubbed his chin. "How can I tell you... It probably hasn't manifested itself yet..."
"Don't drag it out, please."
"Well, basically, we have every reason to believe that you may be the key element in some major quests. It can be anything. A hidden instance, an old mine, a dungeon... I understand it sounds crazy to you. But if you add up all the data and give it a good thought, it looks like Pierrot has set you up big time. I can see it in your eyes you don't understand. Let me explain. The Darkies' scrap I told you about, what do you think had caused it?"
"Please don't tell me it was about a Grinder like myself."
"Oh no, no Grinders there. That guy was a Warrior. But he was a unique race too. All of a sudden he began to advance real fast. Relic gear, pets, some cool quests... the works. Problem was, clan leaders kept tabs on him. They didn't waste time appropriating him. They're just like vampires: they won't stop until they suck every drop of blood out of you. That guy was a well-known forum rat, he never stopped bragging about his successes. And then he just disappeared. As if he'd been moved and made incommunicado. Just like that. So Dmitry and I, we basically think you're heading in the same direction... Hey, whassup, dude? Don't go all pale on me like that! Olgerd! Olgerd, are you all right? Talk to me!"
I may look like a bespectacled wuss but I used to be quite tough when I was a child. I got in fights almost every week: either for being called four-eyes or beanpole, or otherwise to defend my pocket money. There was always something. The problem was, our local bullies were right: I really used to be the four-eyed beanpole that they'd called me. I hadn't taken after Dad. I was pretty sure that Dmitry, who'd inherited Dad's giant mitts, hadn't had such childhood worries.
But I had never suffered in silence. Which had resulted in even more beatings. Sometimes they'd call me names simply to have an excuse to beat me up. Now, too, I was flooded by this desperate feeling of getting into a fight I could never win.
Someone might say it's not possible. There's always a way out. Well, they're either overly optimistic... or they've never been beaten to near death in dark alleys.
One thing I could say: this opponent definitely wasn't in my weight category. I could forget winning. Apparently, clan leaders had some idea — or even knew for sure — that my skill stats weren't my only fortes. And I used to think that they were only interested in my profession! Apparently, they needed some information on the Ennan race.
Rrhorgus' cautious touch of my hand made me jump.
"Olgerd? Are you all right? You're all pale."
I nodded.
"You don't need to worry," he insisted. "It might all come to nothing. Could be a false alarm, you never know. Why are you looking at me like that?"
With a sigh I slumped back in my chair. "I don't think so."
"You mean-"
"Exactly," I said. "They got the ball rolling. And you'll never believe what started it. It's that ring of yours."
Chapter Twenty-Three
We talked till midnight. I had to tell him a few things. Not all of them but still. When the inn closed we went into the forest away from the town walls where I presented my little menagerie to him. To say that Rrhorgus was in shock is an understatement. He couldn't believe his eyes as he was admiring Boris. This Mirror World old-timer just couldn't wrap his head around the fact that a noob like myself and a Grinder to boot could have laid his hands on the game's top flying mount.
He didn't like my story about the Darkies' raid at all. Now they knew about me too. As it turned out, Dmitry and Rrhorgus had been working on a plan for me to defect to the Dark side. And now it was off limits too.
Rrhorgus suggested I scrapped my current char and started playing from scratch. But that wasn't even an option. Too much at stake.
We spent a lot of time talking, debating, offering all sorts of arguments. Pretty pointless, really. It's not easy to plan anything when a powerful clan has got tabs on you.
I didn't hold my breath that they might treat me as I'd like them to. I wouldn't be their slave but I wouldn't be a free man anymore, either. They would pay for Christina's surgery, thus tying me even stronger. They would decide when I could log out — and I was pretty sure they might keep an eye on me in the real world too.
So basically, I was caught between a rock and a hard place. I doubted very much that my humble character could trigger a clan war. The Light side had long been carved up, its priorities established. I was pretty sure that whoever located the guy who was the key to Legendary-class quests would receive a nice bonus on my head. That, yes, but a war? — no way. The colonization of No-Man's Lands was about to begin, anyway.
Still, right as it may be, there was still a catch. Nobody seemed to know yet that all my "secrets" had something to do with No-Man's Lands. This was something I'd kept from Rrhorgus, too.
I might have to tell him, though — and pretty soon, as well. I had the inklings of a plan. Had anyone found out that I owned a detailed map of an abandoned Ennan castle in the very heart of No-Man's Lands... I dreaded to even think what might start then. Fur would fly.
Finally, we decided to stick to my initial scenario. I would apply for a loan in the in-game bank, seeing as the looting of the abandoned mine had given me enough crystals to raise my Rep with Mellenville to the required limit. The only condition I didn't answer was their requirement to have spent at least a month in extended immersion. But a few days couldn't make such a difference, really. In any case, I needed to go to the bank and find out. Pointless delaying my trip to Mellenville. On the contrary: the sooner I got there the better.
Tomorrow – or rather, already today – everything might come to a head. I couldn't avoid joining the Steel Shirts, anyway. I might have tried to provoke a conflict and join the Dead Clan but a clan war with me at its epicenter was the last thing I needed. I'd watched a nature program on TV once, about a school of sharks ripping apart some poor seal. I didn't want it to happen to me, thank you very much.
Or should I really defect to the Dark side? Heh! If Sveta could hear me now! Me taking the Dark side! Unfortunately, that wasn't an option,
either. I'd have to start from scratch. According to Rrhorgus, I could save my char's stats, but lose all of my Rep with Mellenville. This was one of the defection requirements. Only one of them, eh? There were others, including making an offering to the Dark Obelisk which had to consist of a mind-boggling amount of resources that probably cost an arm and a leg. Even if everything worked out well, I simply wouldn't be able to promptly raise the required sum. And, as an unsavory bonus, at least three of their top players must have already blacklisted me. That's the way the cookie crumbles.
Rrhorgus and I parted ways just before dawn. He promised to send a word to my family saying I was all right. Dmitry was the only person supposed to know about my problems. I had to spare my wife. Sveta had enough on her plate as it was.
I used portals to get to Mellenville. The stations were crowded as usual: some gamers played night shifts, others lived in other time zones: for them it must have been late morning or even early evening. Some were in a hurry to get to work while others had already called it a day and were unhurriedly discussing the latest game news. Strangely enough, I found the bustle soothing.
Mirror World's capital city met me with the mixed aroma of freshly-baked buns and springtime blossoms. Flocks of little birds crowded its trees and statues, twittering in their own language. NPCs rushed past, each on their own business.
I needed to check if my achievements were still hidden. Getting on the local guards' wrong side was the last thing I needed. I glanced over my interface. Good. No problem there.
It didn't take me long to get to the city center even though I kept checking the street behind me for a potential tail.
As usual, the views of Mellenville pleased the eye. A lot had changed in less than the month of my absence. There were some new statues... and those two fountains didn't seem to have been there before, did they? And those flowerbeds over there had grown even bigger. Here, life carried on. The players who'd chosen Sculpture, Floral Design, Architecture and Landscaping as their respective skills must have leveled up nicely. Why not?
In a way, I couldn't help feeling a bit jealous. Life wasn't about toiling in mines or smoking mobs in God-forsaken locations. These were big city dudes, whichever way you looked at them.
The Citadel (Mirror World Book #2) Page 26
