Unknown (38 page)

A rogue bodyguard nodded his agreement.

"Finally, it's just so like them. A leopard never changes its spots. In real life, these get-rich-quick Russian oligarchs never cared about anyone's feelings. They took what they wanted where they saw it, period. So here too it's their knee-jerk reaction to a new stimulus. They wanted the recipe, so they sent their henchmen to get it."

Dan
 
turned to the captain. "Scarface, how many times do I need to ask? Give the kid to my analytics department. With this head of his, he shouldn't be running around the woods with your commandos."

The captain gave him a fat finger. "I've already loaned you our Sonya from the maintenance department. For a week, you said. I've been trying to get her back for the last six months."

He turned to the lieutenant. "Good job. Nothing to say. Go to bed now, all of you. In the morning you can do a quick corpse run and pick up your stuff."

He gave a few more orders, then cast me a probing look. "I'm Ruslan," he held out his hand. "Special troops commander, Forces of Light. You sure know how to open a can of worms."

I shook the offered hand and gave him a guilty smile: like, it's not my fault I'm so popular.

Dan slapped my shoulder. "Cheer up, dude. We'll make sure you're safe. Come on now, I'll take you to the guest sector to get some sleep. I tell you what, it won't be easy for them to get to you here."

Life was getting too complicated for me. I questioned his account of the events. The Olders? Quite possible. Or could it be the Vets themselves, staging a show for one naive viewer as its audience? To make sure he arrived at the negotiations suitably compliant, impatient to get rid of the patent which by then would be burning a hole in his pants? I didn't for one moment doubt Dan's ability to run a double game, but as for the brave captain and his men... I wasn't so sure.

Dan
 
took me down a corridor to a door guarded by a couple of soldiers. A Torch of True Flame burned by the doorway. He reminded me that the staff meeting was at 10 a.m., saluted and left on some other secret agenda of his. Did he ever sleep? Despite the absence of a material carrier, our minds tended to overload and needed some rest, sending us into a deep and happy sleep. We did need less of it, though. Four hours were enough for me now to recharge my batteries; the rest of the night I just stayed in bed out of habit.

My room here was a cut above the hotel one. Its size, its expensive interior design, a fancy fireplace—it was all supposed to point at a visitor's status. I crawled inside the four-poster fit for a king and, after some tossing and turning, finally switched off.

At eight in the morning, I was awoken by the sun peeking into a narrow window and by a sergeant's icy commands as he ordered the youngsters around the parade square. I had a quick wash and looked out the door to ask the guards if one could get any coffee there. They promised to send someone and indeed, ten minutes later a pretty NPC waitress brought in coffee and some sandwiches.

That was interesting. Apparently, the castle control interface allowed them to hire in-game characters. Who would want to play the part of a servant, a cook or even some basic guard on the walls? I knew nothing about this substantial part of game content. What could I do with my own home here? The Vets seemed to have some control over teleports and bind points, to say nothing of the fighting arena which apparently offered a lot of leeway: just the other day we'd been fighting there to near death while now it served as a training ground for a bunch of cadets hammering each other with hatchets—and not a single scratch. Plus, instead of sand, they were prancing around what now imitated a stone plateau.

I remembered my promise to roll some more cigarettes. I still had some time, so I opened the auction and checked the auto buy. It had been working hard, amassing about three thousand doses of pollen. The average price had risen somewhat as the suppliers tried to feel out the demand. This was another part-time opportunity if I needed it. Once the clans had the license, the demand for ingredients would soar. They would need millions of doses daily. And once the Admins realized that the shortage of ingredients prevented them from deriving more revenue, you could expect Gigantic Fly-Traps to sprout along all city ditches. Alternatively, they could encourage cultivation to give the game farmers something to do. In any case, the prices for raw materials had to explode. Should I really invest all my available cash into cigarette ingredients? I had to upgrade my basic Auction Depot, anyway, as it was now almost 90% full. That also cost money, making me two hundred gold poorer. Still, I shouldn't complain; my auction account looked healthy with almost five thousand gold having trickled in overnight. Shame all that easy
 
money had to end in a couple days.

Oh, what was that? Another grand gold jingled into my account. I checked the logs. There is was, Ogre's Siege Shield, sold. Found a connoisseur, excellent.

In whatever time I had left, I rolled almost two hundred cigarettes. After some thought, I took some colored ribbons—I now had plenty—and tied the cigs into batches of twenty. That was it. Enough. I looked out the window where the clan's senior officers were gathering in the courtyard. I noticed a few Dark ones among them. I could distinctly see two orcs, a Drow and one hell of a troll. What were they waiting to see, rabbit tricks? I decided to go out for a look.

The moment I walked out they all beamed. I looked around, doubtful that I could be the source of their happy grins, and offered, "How about a smoke, guys?"

Bingo. The men exhaled happily, getting closer. "Got some to share?"

I ripped open a couple bunches. Casting suspicious glances at the ribbons, the officers accepted my offer with military gusto, each helping himself to three or four. The troll scooped a good dozen and bellowed with a shy smile, "My lungs are too big. I smoke one in a single draw. No one wants to share with me anymore."

None of us had a light so we had to commandeer a nearby greenhorn to fetch us some matches from the kitchen. Finally the whiffs of smoke started swirling around. Our Prometheus, a.k.a. the flame-bearing rookie, showed no desire to leave.

"Comrade Colonel! Permission to speak to the civilian!"

"Granted."

He turned to me, "Spare a smoke?"

The officers fell speechless at such insubordination. Still, now they were too relaxed to have the kid punished. I didn't want to ruin the mood and gave him a cigarette. The boy lit up with a practiced hand, but instead of smoke, he began disgorging colorful soap bubbles. It was weird but also so funny we were rolling on the ground laughing—all of us, including the orc Colonel and the Commandant.

"What's all this?" the troll groaned, wiping away the tears of laughter.

"This, comrades, is a built-in under-18 protection system," answered Dan. How I hated his habit of creeping up on people.

One of the captains choked laughing and frowned at the greenhorn. "Cadet Burr! I thought your application said you were a twenty-year-old paratrooper? You piece of shit! We don't need no young offenders in here. Wait! Where d'you think you're going? Sleazy punk!"

He cast some sort of paralyzing spell. Two guards on duty rushed in from the watchhouse to intercept the kid. Unexpectedly to everyone, he resisted the spell, then smashed some vial on the ground at his feet. Immediately, the whole area around and above him was filled with an impenetrable black haze. We recognized the sound of an opening portal.

"Fucking piece of shit! He's gone, look," the Colonel spat, turning to
 
Dan. I could read a whole bunch of emotions—from surprise to hate—on the agent's face.

"How can you explain it, Major?" the Colonel went on. "Spies are having a smoke with staff officers and you don't seem to know what's happening in your own castle?"

Dan gritted his teeth, "My fault, Sir. I'll look into it."

"Please do," the Colonel added, softening. "Let's go in now. Enough of making targets of ourselves. They've already laid the table in the small hall."

The enormous breakfast room was too good for its name. About sixty feet long, it boasted two massive fireplaces and some monstrous furniture. Despite the fake period interior, the breakfast didn't resemble a prim British meal. In our equally fake armor, we looked more like a conquering party of Vikings waiting for the ice to clear the river. We just didn't fit in with the carved wainscots, tall straight-backed chairs and four breakfast forks.

Dan
 
sensed my feelings. "This room is used for semi-official meetings," he whispered. "We have to conform. In other places, you won't see all this pompous shit. And in your own room you can put a TV on the wall if you really want to. Having said that, it won't work, anyway..."

Once the breakfast was over, we moved to the private meetings room next door. Here, soft easy chairs stood around light tables laden with fruit and wine. Ashtrays were brought in and everybody lit up.

The Colonel gestured Dan to speak. He turned to me. "Max. Talking about your proposition. It's equal parts of generosity and danger. You can't even imagine the amount of work we've done to draft the prospective alliance. In principle, all the interested parties have given their prior consent. Now we only need to settle a few details... the rest is up to you," he paused, looking down at the floor. "Two things. There'll be nine clans in the alliance which will make it a force to be reckoned with. In case you ask, the Olders aren't in it. Not many people like them and even fewer want their influence to grow. This is one of the pillars of our agreement. No one's really interested in the Vets' strengthening their positions here, either. That's why the Alliance is against the patent owner's belonging to one of the signatory clans. We've discussed all the possibilities and now we suggest you start your own clan. In name only, don't worry. A clan that would consist of one person—yourself. You will join the Alliance as its tenth clan. Which will also simplify the process of sharing the profits: two percent to each clan. Including yours. Tell me what you think. Take your time. I'm in no hurry."

What I think! I leaned back in the easy chair and closed my eyes. Things were much more complicated than I thought. My own clan. It gave me access to some really nice things: special interfaces, possibilities to build a castle or to buy out a newly discovered one. And lots of other freebies. On one hand, all those extra options without any of the responsibility were only welcome. On the other, I wasn't going to integrate into an already existing powerful structure which could give me the protection I needed. I already knew that you couldn't get anywhere in this world without being part of a powerful group. Then again, what made me think I couldn't? In a way, making part of our cluster's most powerful alliance was even better than just being a clan member. Look at
 
Dan: with all his cloak-and-dagger panache, they had still taken him to task, rubbing his nose in a puddle of piss like a puppy in front of everyone. And he had to grin and salute, suppressing his own character, as in, 'My fault, Sir, it won't happen again, Sir!' Did I really want that?

In actual fact, a clan of my own could give me the independence I craved while Alliance membership offered the protection I needed. The only downside was the inability to join serious clan raids, but I still had to grow a lot before I could start thinking about that. By then, it could all change.

Now, the two percent. I had to admit I expected more. But judging by the forces involved, it was a good job I'd managed to at least get something. It was about time I removed the target off my back, handed over the exclusive license and became an anonymous rich nonentity—eventually, I hoped.

I opened my eyes. The others were studying me. I nodded. "I agree on all points. I do have a few questions I'd like to discuss later with Dan. No need for all the staff to attend."

A sigh of relief swept across the room. The clan was now looking at a new stage of political and financial gain.

The Colonel—who turned out to be the clan leader's deputy himself—raised his glass to the successful closing of the deal. We spent some more time discussing the details. Dan was asking for another day or two to collect all the signatures under the agreement. He asked me to stay put and create my own clan. The guest apartment was at my complete disposal, and they granted Taali free access to the castle.

Dan
 
didn't like to beat about the bush. As soon as the meeting was closed, he came over to me. He looked worried. Despite the successful talks, he had too much on his plate: the inn assault, and now this underage spy. And these were only the things I knew or thought I knew.

"What do you want to tell me?" he asked.

"Is there a place we could talk?"

He gave it some thought. "Your place is probably the closest."

When we walked into my enormous apartment, the first thing I gave him was the rest of the cigarettes. He forced a smile. "Tobacco is the root of all evil."

"Exactly my point. I don't think it would be a good idea for me to go back to the Olders' inn. I've been meaning to ask the clan to allow me to stay here for a month or two. Hope I won't be in your way?"

Dan looked up and moved his lips, calculating. "Sure you can. I'll take care of the commandant. You can stay here. I'll give you full personal access. Anything else?"

"Yeah. It's personal, sort of. I need to know something that happened in real life about six months ago. You think you could check it out for me, whether it's true or not?"

"Go ahead."

I told him what I'd learned from Taali, giving him as many facts as I could remember so he had something to work with. The moment I finished,
 
Dan nodded. "It's all true."

"What's true?"

"The whole story, start to finish. Taali, a.k.a. Tania Semyakina. Eighteen. Lives with her mother. Their relationship is strained. No boyfriend or partner. Her sister, Katia Semyakina, committed suicide about six months ago. You know why. I don't think you'll be interested in details, like who paid whom and how much. Sorry, man. We had to double-check you and your associates. Too much money at stake. We had no right to bet on a mysterious dark horse called Laith."