The Quenta's house ain't bad at all. There's a refined elegance to the vases nestled in niches and art lining the walls. It would have been nice to rummage through the place, but that is not going to happen, alas. It won't be long until the crime scene is swarming with people, and a few hours isn't enough to find something truly valuable. The art and the vases are useless, too. When stealing an item that cannot fit into one inventory slot, you can't throw it into your bag until after you've left the property on which the theft occurred. In this case, that's about fifty yards from the main gates. Besides, what the hell am I supposed to do with a painting or a vase? Look for a fence to unload it on? Organize a museum in Louu's central square? That's a surefire way of landing on a penal mushroom plantation.

  "She's coming to, master."

  The unexpected sound gives me a start. The male, somewhat muffled voice came from somewhere up and above.

  "I see," another voice answers. "If she starts to scream, choke her a bit. And watch for any sudden movements."

  The seemingly apathetic voice of the unseen master rings with steel. It is the voice of someone who's accustomed to deciding the fates of others. It reminds me of my army division commander's voice. Arkon abounds with powerful figures like him, and I wouldn't want to antagonize any of them unnecessarily.

  Stepping softly while hugging the wall, I make my way slowly forward. Though I could theoretically eavesdrop from here, what good would it be if I can't identify these people later? Even if they call each other by name, there's no guarantee those names are real. I won't forget the blondie from the porch, but that doesn't mean anything in and of itself. A portrait from my description wouldn't be accurate, and I don't intend on letting a mentalist poke around in my head. There's way too much sensitive information in there to risk exposure.

  I find the staircase ten paces later, and the air grows heavy with iron once again. I climb up to the second floor, careful as always, skirt the corpse of the majordomo prostrated on the upper steps, and wind up in a spacious square antechamber with three doors. The one leading right was taken out, along with a section of wall, but that is where the voices were coming from. Back in the hallway, on the approach to the staircase, I could hear somebody's hoarse breathing, but the sounds ended as I was ascending the stairs. It would seem that that's where the Shroud of Silence ends.

  Trying to avoid stepping on the rock debris strewn all over the stairs and being seen through the breach, I inch closer to the cracked wall.

  "...Caen Jhess... scumbag... Do you really expect to get away with this?" there are whistling notes in the speaker's voice.

  It's a woman speaking, and by the sound of it, someone is holding her firmly by the throat.

  "I'm certain of it, geissa," replies the other, the same voice that was dubbed 'master' a minute ago. "Either you will tell me everything or you will die, but not before you savor Sherra's Embrace. And don't even try to lie—there's a reason I've brought a tsargh with me. This creature of the Abyss will recognize any falsehood—even one uttered by the likes of you."

  "Who could have known that Alehan is in bed with children of the Fallen," the woman laughs hoarsely. "I'm sure the Council will love that..."

  Taking advantage of their being distracted by conversation, I sneak a quick peek from behind the wall, take in the hall that lies just beyond it, and immediately snap back, struggling to contain my glee. I did it! This is going to net me a truckload of dough, and maybe something even better besides.

  At the far end of the hall, roughly thirty yards away, a beautiful white-haired female of level 280 sits on a leather coach. The upper section of Quenta Felata's torso is shrouded in transparent black smoke. The mistress of the city's hands are twisted and bound behind her back, her half a billion HP down to barely more than forty-five million. The Quenta looks pale, but from her facial expression I wouldn't say she's experiencing any great pain.

  The room looks like a battlefield, with the only piece of furniture intact being the couch upon which the prisoner sits. The rest of the room is in shambles—the floor strewn with broken glass, sections of walls and ceiling caved in and streaked with blood.

  Chapter 43

  The bodies of three priestesses lie near the entrance, with one essentially chopped in half. The attackers, in contrast, are unharmed. I count four of them: the one who came out on the porch, another one just like the first, without name or title, but the other two... Leading the operation to capture Quenta Felata is Duke Caen Jhess, commander of the Faceless of the Elder House Alehan. Because the captive called him by name, it now appears above his head. At level 490 and one-and-a-half billion HP, I shudder to imagine what could have happened to cause an NPC of his prominence to drop everything and head to this hole. The locals never had a chance.

  But the most fascinating figure in this whole motley crew is the fourth one, the very same "tsargh" referenced by the prince. A black blot the size of a large wheel, the creature hovers off the floor, its short tentacles shuffling slowly. No name, no HP bar to speak of.

  What I see before me is impossible, but with everything I've witnessed in the past several days, I'm not even surprised anymore. Let's see how deep the rabbit hole goes... Objectively speaking, I've learned more than enough already—certainly enough to sell the information for a pretty penny—and yet, I can't force myself to leave now. It's like pickpocketing—the deeper in you get, the more valuable the prize.

  "We're wasting time," the duke speaks, ignoring her remarks. "I will remind you what's at stake, geissa. Just to make sure we're on the same page. So, the day before yesterday, Astara Niori, the Elder Daughter of House Klahd, was killed in Stonewood fifteen minutes before her meeting with Matron Cornelia. The cause of death was established soon after. Shadow Blade, the matron's favored spell."

  The duke speaks in a dry, emotionless tone, but each word almost scrapes the mind, its impact heavy like a finishing shot. Man, that's some mental pressure. If I were in her place, I would have already confessed to everything from the assassination of JFK to masterminding the Japanese Riots of thirty-seven.

  "House Klahd blamed the murder on us," the duke continues. "Our houses were never on friendly terms to begin with, but this is a whole other matter. We're on the precipice of a great war that nobody needs. So, as you can see, my dear geissa, we had no choice but to contract a tsargh to get to the bottom of this. It picked up a faint astral track on the crime scene that led us straight here, to your abode."

  "I can imagine how many drow must have lain on the altar for that to happen," the quenta laughs, wheezing. "But what do you want from me?"

  "Nobody from your House, don't worry," the duke says calmly. "Hundreds of thousands of immortal outsiders were dumped into Anthrum. They don't make great sacrificial material, but there are a lot of them. As for you, geissa, you're going to have to answer a few questions. If you refuse, I'm going to feed you to the tsargh. It remembers your Fallen mistress quite well, so it's going to love you..."

  The last words of the haughty bastard make me cringe. I clench my fist and take a deep breath to keep my anger from boiling over. These scum tortured my people on their altars! Yesterday's office workers, teachers, doctors. People who ended up here against their will. And for no other reason than that they are kinless, like me.

  "And what happens if I do answer them? You're not going to sit there and say that you'll let me live, are you?" Felata asks sarcastically.

  "Your life is meaningless to me," the duke answers coolly. "My objective is to stop the war. An Elder Daughter of House Klahd is dead, and I'm content to let them deal with you. I swear to you, Quenta Felata, that if you answer all my questions truthfully, neither I nor any who came here with me will cause you any more harm. I swear on the Darkfaced One!"

  "So what do you want to know, duke?" Felata inquires, her voice still dripping with sarcasm. "Whether it was me who killed that old bitch? Or maybe the reason for her death?"

  "I already know that it was you who killed her. And I suspect I know the reason, too," Caen Jhess assures her after a short pause. "The northern adamantine mines. Akkri thought to sow a rift between the two Elder Houses, then use the ensuing tumult to take the mines under their control. With Klahd being on hard times, they cannot afford to wage war on two fronts. But enough about that. I'm interested in the following: who gave you the order to kill Astara Niori? How did you find out about the meeting in Stonewood? How did a pitiful creature such as yourself manage to take out an Elder Daughter of an Elder House? And what did you do with the girl that accompanied Astara to that meeting?"

  "Bel's Mirror and a single-use Ji's Amplifier," Felata explains. "The mirror turned me into Cornelia, and the amplifier boosted the power of my Shadow Blade one hundred times. I wish that you had seen the shock on the old hag's face the moment before the spell sliced her in half, duke! I erred in one thing only: I should have used the mirror earlier, then your new friend wouldn't have been able to track me."

  "Black Iron?" Caen Jhess' voice betrays bemusement. "The amplifier was made from it?"

  Felata chuckles. "That's right. I still have a piece left, and I'm willing to part with it. You can use it to take an astral copy. You need the evidence, don't you, duke?"

  "But where did you—"

  "Ghetta gave me the artifacts," Felata interrupts him. "She also provided the intel about the meeting place between Astara and Cornelia. You cracked the case, duke. The lands of Princess Ghetta, also an Elder Daughter, border those upon which the adamantine deposits were discovered. Now guess who would have been her pick to oversee the mining operations?"

  The silence that ensues lasts a full minute, over which time I almost forget to breathe. The revelations transcend my wildest imagination. An Elder Daughter of a House is the equivalent of a duchess. If memory serves me right, the assassination of an archduke triggered an actual World War back in the early XX century. I marvel at how neatly the pieces fit. If not for this floating ink blot, Alehan and Klahd would be at each other's throats, the conniving Ghetta would have hijacked the mines, and Felata would have been assigned to manage them. An ingenious plan—if only it had worked. I can hate on these assholes all day, but let's give credit where credit is due. Especially when there are lessons to be learned from such machinations.

  At last, the duke breaks the silence. "Very well. But you said nothing about the lesser priestess that accompanied Astara."

  "She's alive and mostly well," Felata scoffs. "One of the outlanders. When I killed the priestess, the facade of Cornelia faded, and the little bitch recognized me. There was no point killing her—they don't lose their memories upon death, but resurrect in some special spots. She's presently confined to a private dungeon in Louu. And in a special collar that should drive her to total madness in approximately seven dyns."

  "Where is the dungeon?" Caen Jhess inquires dryly.

  "Hand me a map, duke, and I'll point it out."

  "Loosen the shackles on the geissa and give her a map..."

  Those are the last words he utters.

  The floor shudders underfoot as some monstrous magic demolishes an entire upper section of the wall serving as my cover. The rock explodes with shrapnel as an inhuman, indescribable howl assails my mind. My HP bar plunges to half, my whole body twists with agonizing pain. Unable to keep balance, I drop to my knees and cover my ears. A healing potion... the thought grazes the edge of my consciousness, but I'm unable to lift a finger.

  There's no telling how long the effect lasts. Five seconds? Ten? Only when it's all over, with my health restored and the pain gradually abating, I tear my blood-stained hands away from my ears and realize with panic that the mental attack yanked me out of invis, so I slip back in before all is lost. The howl came from a dying tsargh—no sentient creature could have made such a sound.

  "Idiots," comes the voice from the room. "Ghetta warned me that you would come, duke..."

  I peek out from behind the wall, taking in the changed scene, and give a mental round of applause to the Quenta, now standing in a pool of blood over the mutilated body of Duke Caen Jhess. It would appear that she had another artifact up her sleeve for precisely this occasion, and with her hands unbound, used it to amplify some terrible instacast Aoe.

  Well played, Quenta, but it's time for me to bounce. I've learned too much already, and the last thing I want is to be collared and thrown into some dungeon like that player priestess, and rot there until madness takes me.

  Chapter 44

  Wait! Player priestess? House Klahd?! I gasp in horror at the realization. Daria! My Daria! So few players have earned the title of priestess among all the houses, and she's in House Klahd! Possibly the only one in that House...

  A faint rustle precedes a pair of the Faceless appearing in the doorway. One of them blocks the stairs with a trap before they both draw their weapons and rush into the room.

  Crap... I gaze yearningly at the blot blocking my escape, then leap forward and try to open the adjacent chambers. Fifty million HP between the two Faceless against forty-five million on Felata. Two mini bosses versus one heavily wounded raid boss. Though their levels are higher, their chances are slim on account of the priestess' ability to self-heal in combat. But regardless of who survives, I need to make it out if I want to help Daria! If Felata is right, she has only a week before she loses her mind.

  The room explodes with sounds of battle: the clangor of steel on steel and the champing echoes of a battle lash.

  The other doors are locked, as expected, and my gaze turns back to the trap. Halfway through my estimating how I'll be recovering the lost levels, the floor shudders once more, a death rattle sounds from inside the room, and the wall covering me comes crashing down, raising a cloud of dust.

  "Dobluth? Where the hell did you come from?!" I can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the shock in the quenta's voice. In an instant, she steps over the body of the dying Faceless, throws up her left hand and hurls forward a fifteen-foot black net.

  There's no escaping this one with a Roll. My mind races with what's going to come next. The capture. The interrogation. Then the collar and the slow descent into madness in some tiny dungeon. And finally, Daria's smiling face...

  I don't think so, miss thang!

  My body reacts instantly, Shadowsteping past the net flying toward me. Kidney Shot! Cheap Shot! Stab! Slash! Groundwork!

  "I came to remind you about the lesser priestess in the dungeon, you bitch!" I snarl, finishing off with a five-point Rupture!

  What happens next is... unthinkable. The blade slices through the high leather collar, instantly consuming the priestess' forty-seven million HP. Her body jerks, her knees buckle. With a wild flailing of the arms, Quenta Felata collapses at my feet.

  No... freaking... way...

  You've earned a unique achievement, Quenta Felata's Slayer. Quenta Felata is a unique boss that can only be killed once. You and your allies have been granted a permanent 3% increase to your physical and magic damage.

  I step back in a daze. My eyes wander around the room, then at the dagger in my right hand, then at the corpse lying at my feet.

  A soft woman's laughter chimes somewhere to the side. I turn around sharply, but there's nobody there. Feeling my sanity slipping away, I look back at the dagger, and my eyes catch the outline of the ring. The sense of relief is palpable. Obliteration! The ring's killer feature! No wonder Petrified Mermaid was appraised at such an incredible sum.

  OK, great, but why am I still standing here? Enemy reinforcements can arrive any minute!

  I bend over and touch the priestess' corpse, then nearly cry for joy at the sight of the loot. Six hundred twenty gold coins, a level 290 epic ring for mages and priests, ten alchemical vials, one mysterious letter, one molten piece of some black metal, one small silver hand-mirror, and four uncommon category pieces of gear. But none of those things are the main reason for my joy. Among the priestess' things I find a scrap of map of Louu marked with a red dot and a small silver clasp from a collar. Quickly transferring everything into my bag, I refocus my eyes on the ring.

  Ring of Frozen Light

  Accessory; ring.

  Durability: 14,567/15,000.

  Epic.

  Minimum level: 210 (mage; priest).

  +210 to Intellect.

  +210 to Spirit.

  +210 to Constitution.

  +2.1% to critical hit chance with a spell.

  +4.2% to critical heal chance.

  +4.2% to the effectiveness of any magic action.

  +5% to maximum resistance to Light magic.

  Weight: .003 lbs.

  A tiny silver band with a dark blue sapphire. A pretty little thing, and I have an idea who it might look good on. Plus, it would save me the trouble looking for another present. It's no wooden bracelet, but I feel that Daria would be happy to get this ring just as much. Hell, a week ago I would have been jumping for joy if I stumbled upon something like this. Funny, how quickly we get used to the better things. When you're wearing an artifact on your finger, epics no longer seem so amazing. Bel's Mirror—the aforementioned silver mirror—functions the same way as Persona, the difference being that, unlike the latter, this allows the caster to transform into someone specific once every three months. The transformation is also more complete, copying not only appearance, but also voice, body language, mannerisms and speech patterns. The accessory is currently out of charges, and I don't know how to charge it or if it recharges automatically. From Felata's words, the mirror was used only a few days ago, so I'm going to have to wait three months either way. The ability to completely copy any NPC is super useful, to be sure, but after today's events, I am too emotionally drained to rejoice properly. Later, then. There'll be time for both joy and reflection on the implications of having this new toy to play with.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28