by Rachel Ford
Not during business hours, of course. The streets and shops bustled with traffic. That would be an invitation to get caught. He’d wait until evening, and creep through, helping himself to whatever he needed.
To that end, he found an inn and rented a room there. The accommodations, he figured, would be better than the palace’s southern wing, and he would be nearer his marks – making his getaway easier, and his presence less suspicious. Of course he’d be in the area at night: he was staying there, after all.
So he forked over a stack of golden coins and secured a key in return. Karag nodded approvingly. “The only building in the area that seems to have been constructed with travelers in mind.”
By which Jack took him to mean large enough for giants to rest easy in – which proved an accurate assessment. Their room was probably twice as large as the room they’d been assigned at the palace. It’d be easy enough for Karag to get comfortable.
Then, though, he continued his reconnaissance. He needed to scope out all the items on his list, so his crime spree could be targeted and short.
He found the dove’s feather – selling for a whopping five thousand gold in one of the clothier’s shops. He found a priest who offered holy water, too. But here was a catch.
Father Tigvi didn’t offer his wares readymade and pre-bottled. He made them on commission, he told Jack, for a fee of twenty-five hundred gold. “But seeing as you don’t look like the sort to have that kind of coin in your purse…I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll cut you a deal. You do me a favor, and I’ll do you one.”
“What kind of favor?”
“I need some supplies.”
The words killed him a little inside. But Jack gritted his teeth and nodded. “What do you need?”
“Oh, just a few things. Let’s see now. Where did I leave that list? Ah, here we go.”
He handed over a sheet of paper, and Jack read with dismay.
Silver cap mushrooms x 3
Razorback trout eggs x 3
Apple tree blossoms x 6
Yellow thistle blooms x 4
Red dogwood leaves x 2
Lemongrass blades x 6
Beebalm flowers x 12
Geranium blossoms x 4
He stared at it, incredulously. “Oh, is that all?”
Tigvi nodded. “I think that should do it. That’ll set me up to make a few batches. So I can throw one in for you, for your troubles.”
As before, the game gave Jack the option of paying for the priest’s service outright or collecting the supplies.
Which sent Jack on a whole new set of errands, scurrying about town trying to figure out where and how to acquire the things he’d need.
The trout eggs necessitated a trip into the dwarven countryside, to the Minor Kalven. Everyone he spoke to warned him about that, repeating all the same cautions Varr had issued. But Jack didn’t intend to tangle with the adults of the species. He needed eggs. He had no idea what they looked like, but he figured they would have to be large enough to see and harvest. So he’d avoid the trout themselves and look for their eggs. But, like his hunting excursion, that would be later.
As for the rest of the items on his list, Jack found that they mostly grew in the city itself. He cleared apple tree blossoms and dogwood leaves off his list just by dipping into people’s gardens and plucking what he needed. Illegal, certainly, but it got the job done, and at no cost to him.
The beebalm flowers proved a little trickier just because of the numbers required. He spent hours stealing a dozen of the colorful blooms. Which was ridiculous, of course – the plants were covered in flowers. But the game would only allow him to harvest a single bloom per plant. So he had to hoof it all over the city to get what he needed.
He found geraniums in colorful clay pots set out on front steps, or in long, full window boxes. As with the beebalm, he could only help himself to one flower per pot. And here, harvesting was a little trickier, because the planters were right out in the open. He had to wait until streets cleared and home owners turned the other way – all without lingering too long, and raising anyone’s suspicions. But he only needed four, and he collected them all before evening.
The thistle proved more difficult. He found purple thistle everywhere. But he needed yellow. And after fruitless searching, he broke down and asked a few locals. Eventually, he got the answer he needed: only one person in all of the dwarven realm grew yellow thistle, a botanist called Jaki.
Jaki lived on the outskirts of the city, and Jaki was paranoid. Very paranoid. Not without reason, in fairness, since Jack had come to rob him. Still, the botanist had cages over all his plants – cages with locks that required the highest lockpicking skills to crack.
Skills Jack did not possess – which threw something of a wrench into his nefarious works. How could he rob someone if he couldn’t access the items in question? He couldn’t, obviously.
That left bartering.
He tried the botanist’s house first but got no answer when he knocked. He swung by the garden shed next and located his quarry. The bespectacled dwarf glanced up and peered over his nose as Jack entered. “Hello, what’s this? A human? What do you want with old Jaki, then?”
“I need to purchase some thistle flowers. The yellow thistle, I mean.”
The old dwarf barked out a laugh and ran his green-stained fingers through the silver of his beard. “You couldn’t afford them, boy. No, don’t take offense to that. It’s nothing personal. But those flowers are one of a kind. Bred by me, and me alone. No one else has them – not here, and not anywhere. They’re my pride and joy, the culmination of my life’s work.”
Jack wasn’t impressed. A weed of any other color was still a weed, and all that. But he said, “Look, I fully appreciate that.”
“I don’t know that you do, lad. Not even the king himself could offer me enough money to part with them. They’re like children to me.”
“Not even four flowers?”
Jaki regarded him like he might a serial killer. “Would you part with only four of your fingers or toes?”
“Okay…”
“I won’t part with them. Not for anything.” Jaki shooed him away and returned his attention to the potted plant he had been trimming.”
“Not even to save them?”
The dwarf frowned and looked up. “What?”
“There’s a demon coming who is going to destroy everything – he’ll kill you, and his horde will trample your precious flowers into the dust.”
“Kalbidor,” the other man said, his tone grim. “I’ve heard rumors of him.”
“Yes, exactly. He’s coming. And I need that thistle to stop him.”
Jaki raised an eyebrow. “You need – my thistle?”
Jack raised a hand in exasperation. “I know it sounds nuts. It is nuts. I don’t know what the developers were smoking when they came up with it. It doesn’t even make sense. Heck, if Tigvi needs yellow thistle to make holy water, and you’re the only source of yellow thistle – but you won’t part with it…how on earth could he make holy water before?”
The dwarf stared at him. “I’m sorry. I don’t follow.”
“I know.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the tension in his head, and focus. “All I’m saying is, if you want to stop Kalbidor, I need the thistles. I know it makes absolutely no sense. But it’s true.”
In the end, Jaki believed him. And so he struck a deal. He’d hand over the thistle in exchange for help around his garden. Because the world ending might be serious, but clearly not that serious.
So a very annoyed Jack hauled fertilizer, and composted garbage, and picked weeds until sundown. He brought apples to a nearby neighbor and took back a pie in return.
Jaki inspected his work after he’d wrapped up. “You’re no master gardener, and that’s a fact. But I guess it’ll do.” So he handed over the requested thistles, and a small pouch of tealeaves too. “A little something extra for your efforts. It makes a lovely tea, that’ll
fortify you right up.”
Jack acquired the lemongrass on his way back to the inn. He found a vendor selling it out of a basket. “A sweet tea it makes, sir, and most fragrant. Put it in your window. You won’t smell the stink of the street, and that’s a fact.” It only cost him fifteen gold pieces – a paltry sum, to check another item off his list.
He whipped up some food at the hearth in his room, and laid down to rest for a bit after that. He wanted to make sure the city had gone to sleep before he crept out to try his hand at thieving.
He woke just after midnight and pulled on boots and gloves that granted him stealth bonuses. Though he’d lost track of Arath during the day, his companions had all materialized in the inn. They lay sleeping now, and he decided against waking them.
Then he headed out to the city. Most of the residents were fast asleep. Now, there were only soldiers patrolling and tavern-goers heading back to their homes or loitering in clusters to converse. They seemed too drunk to notice him. They just went on talking to one another as he passed.
“I don’t believe she’d do this to me. Not after all these years.”
“I heard someone pinched half a dozen rings from the jeweler’s place this afternoon.”
“Old Wegin’s done for hisself once and for all, I hear tell.”
The guards were another matter. Their armor clattered and their boots rang off the pavement as they marched by. He saw them stop and question nighttime wanderers, so he kept to the shadows and waited for them to pass if they neared.
And they would, with the clash and ring of chainmail, marching steps and the same bad marching songs Lady Milia’s guards had sung.
One, two
Right, left
Boots, boots,
Boots on the ground.
Annoying as they were, their singing at least alerted him to their presence. So he ducked into shadowy alleys or behind buildings long before the patrols neared.
In this way, Jack reached the clothier’s shop first. The front door was locked, and picking it eluded him. The back door, though, had a simple lock, and he could jimmy it open without much trouble.
He crept inside and headed straight for the accessories bench. He grabbed the feather and scooped up a few shimmering baubles while he was at it. Then he ducked out the same way he’d entered.
His next mark was the dingy magic shop that sold the tears of a wicked thing. Jack found both doors solidly locked, but he managed to crawl inside from an upstairs window – a feat that nearly left him with a broken neck as his first attempt to scale the old rock wall almost ended in a fifteen-foot drop. But in the end, he got in alright, and crept downstairs.
He found the vial he needed and slipped it into his inventory. He tried not to think about what kind of creature these tears had come from, or how they’d been extracted. He just headed for the door.
But then, he paused. The shop – called, innocently enough, Alchemical Emporium, boasted a whole selection of weird and morbid things. He saw eyeballs in jars, and goblin hands, and dried orc ears, and even dragon scale.
Maybe, he thought, just maybe they’d have some of what Olksana needed too. So he cast a light spell and scouted out the room.
He found entrails of every variety, and brains too; and so, cringing as he did so, he slipped goat entrails and raven brains into his pack.
He found all manner of hearts, too – except the heart of a hart. He’d still need to go hunting, then.
Still, ducking out of the shop, he felt pretty good about the night’s adventures. Right up until, pulling the front door shut, he turned around to find himself face to face with a burly dwarf in the uniform of the king’s guard, anyway.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The guard laid a hand on the hilt of his sword, and frowned. “Hullo there. Ye don’t look like the homeowner. Who be ye, then?”
Jack gulped and threw a desperate glance around. Unlike the patrols he’d encountered so far, this guard seemed to be on his own. Or maybe his buddy’s on the other side of the building. He figured he could take one dwarf, and probably two, easily enough. But not nonlethally. And he didn’t want to cut down some poor working stiff, especially not over goat guts. He hesitated a long beat.
“I asked, who be ye?”
“Uh…me?”
“Yes. Be ye deaf? What art thou called?”
He was too nervous to pay much heed to the game’s random shift to faux-Old English. He’d already encountered that bug and reported it. “My name is…I mean, I’m called…” He couldn’t use his own name, of course, but he was blanking on a fake name. Then, inspiration hit. “Arath.”
“Well, Arath, what be ye doing creeping around yonder shop?”
“I’m not. I mean, I wasn’t…creeping.”
The dwarf leaned in closer, and though he stood a good two feet shorter, he still radiated such an air of menace that Jack retreated a step. “I saw you creeping, lad. Are you calling me a liar?”
“No sir. Of course not. I only meant –”
“I think ye be a thief. That’s what I think?”
Jack laughed nervously. “A thief? Oh, no. Of course not.”
“Ye be a stranger in these parts, so ye may not know the penalty for thieving. Do you?”
Jack shook his head, protesting again that he wasn’t a thief. “I just – forgot a purchase earlier. I happened to be walking by, and thought I’d pick it up, is all.”
But even though the guardsman loosed his hold on his blade, he didn’t seem to buy the midnight stroll story. Instead, he lifted his right arm, and made a swift chopping motion at the wrist with his left.
Jack winced and took another step backward, until his back pressed against the door. “This is nothing but a misunderstanding.”
The guard considered for a long moment, then nodded. “Maybe. I’ll tell you what, since you are a stranger in these parts, I’ll go easy on you. Hand over anything you might have ‘accidentally picked up’ that doesn’t belong to you, and I’ll make sure it gets back to its rightful owners. And we’ll both walk away, no harm done.”
Jack licked his lips nervously, considering his options. He hadn’t spotted a second guard. Not yet. But he still couldn’t bring himself to kill for coin, and not just for the morality of it. He hadn’t saved recently, and so if he died or alienated the royal guard, he’d have to load from the latest autosave.
He pulled up his menus, just to check when that had been – and groaned. The game had last saved when he left the palace. Which meant his entire day of runaround would need to be repeated if he made the wrong choice here. He left the load menu.
The guard was watching him. “Deal?”
Four possible responses ran through his mind.
Deal [hand over stolen goods]
Look, friend, you seem like a reasonable bloke. And I’ve got 500 gold here with your name on it if you can agree that you probably made a mistake here [bribe, 500 gold]
Stand aside, dwarf, or I’ll cut you down [threaten]
I’d sooner die, shortstack [fight]
Jack considered for a moment. His last experience threatening one of the dwarves had been so abysmal, he quickly rejected the idea. Similarly, he discarded the notion of fighting, for all the reasons he’d already established. This left him with two possibilities: to pay up, or return his stolen items.
His kneejerk reaction was to hold onto his gold, to guard it jealously like some kind of dragon. But it was an impractical reaction. He had items in his bag worth a lot more than five hundred coins. And the fee left him very near what he owed Kagil, too – which meant he’d only have to scrounge up a few more gold pieces, and he’d be alright.
So Jack said, “Look, friend, you seem like a reasonable bloke. And I’ve got 500 gold here with your name on it if you can agree that you probably made a mistake here.”
The dwarf glowered at him. “You may not know this, friend, being a stranger and all. But attempting to bribe a king’s guard is a crime.” Here, he mimed a throat cu
tting, or a beheading – Jack couldn’t tell.
Either way, he figured it had something to do with sharp blades and his neck. He laughed nervously. “A bribe? Gods, no. Of course not.”
“Good. In that case, I’ll keep the coin – since it wasn’t a bribe – and you’ll hand over your goods. Deal?”
Jack scowled as three sad options entered his thoughts.
Fine. Deal [hand over 500 gold and stolen goods]
Why don’t you try to make me, little man? [intimidate]
Over my dead body [fight]
Jack went on glaring daggers at the dwarf as he considered. Finally, though, he picked the first option and handed over his money and his loot. A flood of alerts blazed through his thoughts. Some detailed his losses:
Removed from inventory: goat entrails
Removed from inventory: golden ring
Removed from inventory: pearl earrings
And so on. Others detailed objective updates:
Objective added: find goat entrails
Objective added: find a dove’s feather [optional]
He lost track of the updates as they cascaded through his mind. The dwarf, meanwhile, grinned and tutted and accepted the goods. “Quite a busy lad, weren’t you, Arath?” Then, as he got to the entrails and brains, his expression morphed into a frown. “I don’t even want to know what you needed these for.” He took Jack’s hand, and dropped them into his palm – the guts, and all his quest items. “I’m sure no one will miss feathers and guts.”
The game sped through quest updates in his thoughts:
Objective complete: find a dove’s feather [optional]
Objective complete: find a raven’s brain
He ignored the rest of the data stream, focusing on the dwarf – who was currently brushing his palms against his tunic, as if to remove whatever contamination he’d just encountered. “Alright, you darned extortionist. Can I go now?”
The dwarf glanced up, then nodded. “And remember, Arath: follow the law at all times, like a responsible citizen.”
Jack returned to the inn a much poorer man than he might otherwise have done. But at least he had most of what he needed. He still required mushrooms and trout eggs for Tigvi, in order to get the holy water Kagil needed for the scroll. And he’d have to be on the lookout for a hart’s heart for Olksana, so he could get the black bone quill. Still, he’d gotten a lot closer.
