“Cool,” I said with admiration. “Once you master it, let me know.”
“Uh-huh,” Reed nodded happily.
“Why you’re already an ace when you face the bass,” Pavel examined the bow skeptically. “You’re so good without any bells or whistles that your music gets me right through to my toes. Although, nothing is wasted in a master’s arsenal.”
“Thanks,” Reed blushed. “What will you do now?”
“I don’t know about you, but I need to process what just happened,” I announced. “I’m going to exit to meatspace and practice a bit.”
“And I’m going to work on the map.” Chip was clearly still fixated on marking all the locations we had visited during this adventure on his map. “If you like, you can come with. You can try out your new wonder bow on the natives while you’re at it.”
“No, thank you. I’m going to play for a bit…”
I didn’t hear the rest of their exchange—waving my hand in farewell, I exited to reality. I wanted to create something…
My guitar synth and I sat together late into the night. What I had seen in the game transformed note by note into a melody—drop by drop draining my roiling emotions. It was only when the notes began to breakdance before my eyes that I managed to place my instrument aside. And several minutes later my head touched the pillow, plunging me into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Chapter Eighteen
I slept in until lunchtime and then spent a while on chores, hesitant to return to Barliona. After my recent experience, it seemed strange to have to farm XP, gold, stats all over again—meaningless quests and dull everyday errands. I wanted fairy tales. Shocking, impossible ones. Unfortunately, even in VR, miracles don’t happen that often.
Therefore, I prescribed myself a treatment of mundane chores, canceled my daily deliveries and went to the supermarket on my own, stopped by the garage and found a very hungover Beast, had some coffee and sandwiches with him, exchanged news and gossip and only after all that felt ready to return to my in-game life.
Master Pirus’ store was as empty and quiet as ever. The master himself was working on the body of a future violin and responded to my entrance with a curt, welcoming nod. I didn’t want to distract him, so I chose one of the guitars, sat down in my favorite place at the entrance, chose Pirus as my target and activated my ‘Inspiration’ ability. The master merely hummed approvingly and went on with his work.
Bit by bit, people began to gather around me. A seamstress peeked out of the neighboring workshop, tarried a little, then pulled her chair out to the street and resumed her work to my accompaniment. I had enough Charisma for two more targets and the mana cost wasn’t an issue, so I expanded my inspiration buff to her too. After her a player priest appeared. Judging by the strange textile, which resembled flower petals, in his hands, he was trying to master the tailor’s craft. He too settled nearby, becoming the last target of my spell.
“Whoa! Cool beans!” the priest exclaimed when he saw the buff. “Does it last long?”
“Long as I’m playing. Savor the moment!”
“Got it!”
We spent three hours like this, no less. Every once in a while, more NPCs and player craftsmen came by, but my Charisma wasn’t enough to buff more targets so the newcomers didn’t get anything but the music. Then again, this was good enough too—the public had more fun working, my Fame grew to 8 and my Reputation went up by another 64 points. Yet another bonus was the Attractiveness which increased with everyone around me, in particular with the seamstress, whose embroidery gained a new additional effect thanks to my buff. I wish I could have been so lucky when it came to Pirus. And yet, even without that, the work went well: The master luthier now looked at me with more approval than before and even mentioned that my talent deserved a better instrument. I thanked him for his praise modestly but didn’t start developing the topic further. There will be time enough for that later. I’ll level up my Fame, increase my Attractiveness some more, and then we’ll have a more substantial chat.
Chip was nowhere to be seen. In any case, he didn’t answer my letter and I got his voicemail when I called his comm in meatworld. As a result, I headed out to see Amaryllis on my own. Catching sight of the NPC, who was chatting with a merchant, I didn’t bother catching her attention and starting a conversation. Instead, I placed the trusty flower that was my change mug before me and began to improvise. As expected, the NPC I needed grew curious and joined my growing audience. Several songs later I had earned six silver pieces and eight points of Attractiveness with Amaryllis.
“I always enjoyed bardic performances,” she smiled when I had finished my mini-concert and approached her. “I like it when there’s music playing around the Tree.”
“I am happy to do something for the community,” I immediately agreed. “But I would like to do more to earn the respect of my fellow biota.”
“That is an admirable goal,” Amaryllis approved. “As it happens, I have several tasks I need done. Come with me. I’ll tell you about them.”
If you ask me, she could just as well have told me right then and there, but why argue?
“As you know, the Kartossian embassy will arrive soon,” said Amaryllis when we were left one on one. “They do not speak our language, so we will have to furnish interpreters for our guests. If you master the language of the Dark Empire, you will be able to accompany one of our guests during the length of the visit.”
Quest available: The Tongue that Takes You to Kartoss.
Description: The guests from the Dark Empire do not speak the tongue of the Hidden Forest. Class: Rare Scenario. Reward for completion: +1000 Reputation with the Biota, +50 gold, the right to accompany one of the members of the Kartossian delegation throughout the entire duration of the embassy. Penalty for failure: -500 Reputation with the Biota.
“I will be happy to help you in this matter,” I replied, accepting the quest.
Just what I need: a hike to my reputation and access to a historical meeting. And as it happens, I’m already learning the language in question through another quest.
“I have a friend, a pirc. He too is trying to learn the language of Kartoss and could help,” I offered.
“If he masters the language, he can become one of the interpreters as well,” Amaryllis agreed. “As soon as the delegation’s arrival is announced publicly, we will begin selecting interpreters.”
“We will have to take breaks to clear our minds from all the language lessons. Do you perchance have other assignments you need done?”
Amaryllis immediately dumped a bunch of small quests on me—of the ‘polish, decorate, prepare’ type. Nothing epic but I needed the reputation and sooner than later.
“And one more question,” I remembered. “Let’s say that I head out on an adventure that takes me beyond the Arras and I make some friends out there. What do I have to do to invite them back to the Hidden Forest?”
“A guarantee from an esteemed biota. Her reputation will be a guarantee that the guest shall not violate our laws. Any misdeed by the guest shall cast a shadow on her who vouched for him.”
In other words, a reputation status no lower than ‘Esteem.’ Damn. I don’t even know what’s easier—to grind reputation and invite Sloe’s guild to help, or to level up on my own and deal with my enemies autonomously. Then again, to summon them I’ll need to reach that Arras thing first…
My cogitations were interrupted by a new mail alert. It turned out that I had two pieces of new mail—from Chip and Brouhaha. I had quickly forgotten about my meeting with the latter and now I had to write a reply full of apologies and request to arrange a new meeting with Daisy. I was still curious to see a bard tumbler in action. And she might know something about Cypro and his songbook so it wasn’t worth it to pass up this chance.
The second letter was from Chip. The pirc showed up not just anywhere but on the warrior’s training grounds. It turned out that he had run into Otolaryngologist again and had only just respawned. His desire to g
et at this ‘future compost’ had only grown during his 12 hour timeout and the pirc was now actively embroiled in what he termed ‘T&ST’—or, ‘tactical and special training.’
“I’ll raise my stats, check out the other classes, and then get down to leveling up in earnest. I’m going to bury that biota.”
And yet he was enthusiastic enough when I told him my idea about learning Kartossian and increasing his reputation with the biota.
“We’ve already completed the mapping of the Tree and it’s pretty dull in here when I’m on my own,” Chip explained with a bit of embarrassment.
Just then, a female voice full of rage sounded behind my back:
“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”
Turning, I had the dubious honor of encountering none other than Annastarriia, pouting her doll’s face in anger. To be honest, my first thought was about an attempted PK, but instead of a hail of blows, the beauty burst into a well-practiced tirade that, with each word, caused my face to grow longer and longer. Once she had concluded, I buried my face in my hands, turned around and shook my shoulders in a mute weeping. Chip, who like most men didn’t interfere in arguments between women, stared at me with astonishment.
“Hey…What’s with you?” he asked carefully.
I couldn’t answer—I was shaking and I simply fled from any strangers’ eyes. And it was only once I had been left alone on my own that I burst out laughing as loudly as I could. No—coincidences like this weren’t possible. It’s a small world of course but it couldn’t be that small…
Chip caught up with me and froze with an expression of utter bafflement on his face.
“What the hell was that? What’s the matter with you? I thought that that shrew had gotten to you and here you are enjoying yourself.”
“Oh,” I finally finished laughing and shook my head, coming to. “That flowery monologue that she prepared for me. I wrote that.”
“What?” Chip asked, stumped even more.
“Remember I told you that I write various letters for people—from confessions of love to tirades and rants? And I have this one old client. Well, I whipped up that very tirade only several days ago.”
It was Chip’s turn to laugh now.
“No way! So it turns out that you insulted your own self? Oh what a lark…Why’d you flee then?”
“I mean, if I had laughed right then and there, I doubt I’d get another order from her…This way, she’s sure to be back for more.”
“That’s cold,” the pirc approved. “Okay, what are our plans?”
“Find some zombie and hand him Cypro’s notes to read. Is he dead? If yes, let him do the reading.”
“Where are we going to find a zombie?” Chip sighed.
“Either among Sloe’s friends or among the Kartossian embassy. Which means we need to find a way into those talks. We’ll start by working at the library. I’m going to try and find out more about the songbook while we’re at it. We’ll see what to do once we’re there.”
“If it must be the library, the library it shall be,” the pirc agreed easily. “I’ll relive my high school years…Eh, how many sweet dreams I dreamed in that place…” he winked to me and laughed uproariously.
“It might be a little too loud in there to sleep,” I warned my naïve companion.
Despite my apprehensions, this time the library was quieter. Either it wasn’t the season, or the bored-out-of-their-minds players had finally thought of mastering some useful professions and were now occupied with crafting various items. Chip received the quest to help out at the library without any trouble. The reasonable thing to do for the NPCs was to send him packing—there were too much volunteers here as it stood—but it seemed that the devs wanted to make sure that the players could learn the new languages and didn’t want to institute limitations on this mechanic.
“For some reason I was certain that you wouldn’t pass up a chance to do some reading,” I remarked to the pirc who was pretending to be asleep.
“What’s there to read here?” the pirc started. “You couldn’t even call this Pabulum. A cheap parody of a pathetic misconception, written in a touching attempt to imitate the style of Song of Roland.”
“I’m not sure whether you’ve checked out the local legends—they’re not bad at all. It’s not Shakespeare, of course, but it’s still interesting.”
“De gustibus non est disputandum,” Chip concluded diplomatically, “—that is, there is no disputing against hobby horses; and, for my part, I seldom do. What’s next in our plan?”
“We need to ask the librarian about the songbook. Maybe he knows something…”
“Well he’s about to tell us!” the pirc scowled happily. “I’ve got some good grub stashed away here. It’ll loosen his tongue, it will.”
“Eh…Whoa there! What’s this bloody scene your imagination’s painting? We’re not trying to extract top secret info from an enemy spy here. We just want to ask an esteemed biota academic about one of the scrolls stored in his library.”
“And have breakfast while we’re at it,” nodded the pirc and produced from his bag a beef steak and a bundle of leeks.
“For war may be war but dinner comes every night at seven,” announced the furball and bit off half the steak, stuck the bundle of leeks in his maw and began chewing loudly, purring with pleasure.
Having roused the NPC librarian, who had secreted himself in the utility closet, I introduced myself and asked:
“Pardon the bother, esteemed sir, but could we speak alone?” I nodded my head at the players eavesdropping nearby.
“As long as you ask your friend not to treat the library like a cafeteria,” the librarian pointed with irritation at the loudly-smacking pirc.
Chip made an innocent face and spread his paws, as if to say, ‘Wha…?’ then swallowed his mouthful and folded his arms across his chest seriously. The librarian simply shook his head and stepped back into his utility closet, inviting us in after him.
In the company of the broad-shouldered pirc, the small room instantly became so cramped that I never even noticed its furnishings if there were any.
“What did you want to speak to me about?”
“I discovered a songbook among the stacks. It was authored by Cypro sometime long ago, but it also turned out to be incomplete. Someone stole a part of the scroll and I would very much like to locate the lost fragment and the culprit. Do you know anything about this?”
The bored expression on the librarian’s face instantly gave way to embarrassment.
“I’m afraid this is an oversight of mine,” he confessed. “Literally two months ago, the songbook was in one piece and one of your bard colleagues would spend evenings with it. Later I discovered that a part of the scroll is missing.”
“Which bard?” I immediately perked up.
“One of those who set out to become a Singer of the Blade. Oh what was his name…” the old man furrowed his brow, trying to remember, “…Vex, I believe. I even tried to find him to ask what had happened but Vex has not been seen since. The guards say that he descended from the Tree into the forest and never returned. As of late, there are many who do not return.”
“Maybe the forest denizens didn’t take to his vocal stylings?” the pirc joked clumsily.
“You free citizens of Barliona have the wondrous gift of being able to return from the Gray Lands. Perhaps this is why you jest so lightly of such matters,” the librarian responded dryly.
“One can survive for days without food, longer even, but there are times in war when it is impossible to survive without a simple byword, a basic joke.” Unexpectedly seriously, Chip quoted some poet I didn’t know. “Forgive me, esteemed librarian, at times my wit is so subtle that no one but I can see it.”
The NPC’s face warmed a little and he nodded in a conciliatory manner.
“Each creature suffers in its own way. But if you wish to discover what happened to Cypro’s songbook, you should ask Vex about it. If, of course, you manage to
find him.”
Quest updated: Restore the Songbook. A bard named Vex was the last to study Cypro’s songbook. He has vanished in the Hidden Forest. Locate Vex and find out what happened to the songbook.
“Thank you very much. We will try and locate this bard and restore the songbook. You don’t happen to know one of Vex’s friends, do you? Perhaps he mentioned where he was going?”
The biota scratched his bushy beard.
“Try to track down his friend, Tauvolga. If Vex told anyone where he was going, it would be her.”
“We will make sure to ask her,” I promised.
“And do so thoroughly,” Chip slipped in his meow and earned a sharp elbow to the ribs.
“All the best,” I quickly said my farewells and began pushing the woolly troll out of the closet.
“They haven’t offered you the ‘Terrorist’ trait yet, have they?”
“Actually, that was a recent offer I received,” Chip deadpanned, “but I was at the airport at the time and it didn’t seem an appropriate occasion to accept something like that.”
“Well, you’d make a good one,” I couldn’t help imagining the terror of the NPC biotas facing Chip’s angry mug.
Having completed our shift at the library, we tracked down Tauvolga without much difficulty. She related a sad story about the disappearance of her beloved. According to her, Vex headed north in an attempt to find the source of the blight that had afflicted the Hidden Forest. Obviously, the brave young man didn’t return and we took up the quest to find him again.
“It’s looking like we’ll have to delve deep into these blighted areas,” I said to my partner once we’d left Tauvolga. “A whole bunch of our quests are all coming down to one thing.”
“It would all be so much easier if we had a chopper,” sighed Chip. “We’d fly a spiral pattern, comb the entire area, rescue the boy and return back to base. All in time for lunch.”
“Well, since we don’t have one, we’ll have to do it on our two feet.”
The Renegades Page 26
