Firesign 1 - Wage Slave Rebellion (7 page)

That was all well and good. The problem was that when you take heavily armed people who are used to solving their problems with violence and add alcohol, certain consequences are inevitable.

Gavi waded into the thick of things, with an eye toward thinning them out. She had brought a weapon to a fistfight, and was using it to great effect. She had one brawler down before any of them realized she was there, and was already working on the next.

It didn’t last. Regardless of their side in the original brawl, everyone turned their attention to Gavi, whose weapon ostensibly made her the biggest threat there. Gavi lashed out, striking men who were many times larger than her, and kicking women who had seen more battles than she could imagine. She fell back under their counterattack.

Step, weave, dodge, swing. Gavi tried to keep up, tried to quell the fight before it spread to the entire bar
²⁰
. She could hear cheering as she moved, but she tuned it out. Dodge, dodge, duck,
strike!
Her club cracked across a man’s shoulder, drawing forth a crackle of mana—his barrier had absorbed most of the damage. He kept coming.

“
Ichn ir ukk—Swiftness!
” said Gavi, and suddenly her speed increased twofold, her body blurring as she moved. She dodged close attacks, skittered away from a lunge, hobbled a man with a strike to the knee—and then the magick faded, and she slowed back down to normal.

They were still coming.

Not good!
thought Gavi as she pulled back, trying to get out of range before they overwhelmed her, trying to—

The back of Gavi’s legs ran into something, and she toppled over. A glimpse as she fell—the man she had knocked out earlier! Apparently he wasn’t as unconscious as she thought, with the chair he had shoved in her path serving as a harsh reminder.

Gavi hit the floor in a cloud of dirt and sawdust, her club tumbling out of her hands. Her apron flew over her face, and as she swatted it away she looked up to see three people bearing down on her, their fists raised to strike. Gavi threw up her arms.

Sssz-snap!

Nothing happened. Actually, quite a lot happened, but none of it involved Gavi and pain. That was enough for her.

Gavi immediately scrambled back, kicking the chair free of her legs and rising into a defensive crouch. Only then did she learn what had happened.

There was Raedren, standing in front of her. One hand held a beer, which he was drinking from. The other was glowing a vibrant green, like light filtered through rainforest leaves. This light spread out in an oval in front of him, and another hovered in front of Gavi.

“Thanks,” said Gavi.

“No problem,” said Raedren as he held out his free hand. She took it, standing up. “Here,” said Raedren as he passed her the beer. He bent to retrieve her club. They swapped with another thanks.

“Though honestly, it wasn’t my idea,” said Raedren, swaying slightly. He pointed with his beer.

Gavi turned back to the brawl. Once a three-sided affair, now it was decidedly more one-sided. The original brawlers appeared to have teamed up once again, this time out of desperate necessity, for among them in a blinding flurry of swinging fists, crackling mana, and caustic curses was none other than Mazik, who was busy making them wish they hadn’t started this particular fight. Or been born.

“This isn’t your lucky day, my friends, because you just
pissed me off!
” yelled Mazik, with all the self-control of a broken dam. He handed one man a beer bottle, grabbed him by the wrist, and forced him to hit another man. The struck man toppled as the beer bottle shattered, causing the man holding it to howl in pain. Then Mazik punched him in the face.

“If I don’t get to concentrate because of your bullshit, then you don’t get to be conscious!” said Mazik. He kicked one of the fallen men in the head. “C’mon! Fight me!”

“I think he’s going to do more damage than they did,” said Gavi.

“Probably,” said Raedren. “You think we should we stop him?”

Gavi looked at him askance. “Yes!”

“Not it,” said Raedren.

Gavi stared at him, then grabbed his arm and pushed him toward the fight. “Come on, let’s go.”

Raedren chuckled, his vision bobbing unevenly as he followed
²¹
. “Yes mis, right away mis.”

A minute later it was over, to the applause and laughter of the other patrons. Gavi waved while Mazik unclenched his fists, noticeably trying to restrain himself from kicking anyone else. Raedren took a sloppy bow.

While Mazik stormed back to the bar, Gavi knelt and rifled through the downed brawlers’ pockets.

“Hmmm, let’s see what you’ve got….” After a minute Gavi stood up holding two small brown bags. Two small,
full
brown bags, both of which clinked with the undeniably rich sound of money. She held them over her head.

“So, who wants a free drink? On them.”

The bar’s patrons responded as one might assume—with a deafening roar that rattled windows two blocks away.

*      *      *

Several hours later, Mazik was half a city away, hands shoved into his pockets as he stared up at the building in front of him. His breath crystallized in the late winter air, puffs of contemplative mist curling away from him like smoke from a fine cigar. He wondered why he was there.

After he left The Joker, Mazik had decided to go for a walk, an event so unusual that Raedren asked him four times whether he was okay, and offered to carry him home. Mazik ignored him and left.

It was eerie, being out so late with the fog and the darkness and the silence, or at least so Mazik thought. Tonight though, he appreciated the silence. He wrapped himself in it, letting it shield him from the world as he wandered aimlessly around the city, alone with his thoughts.

Houk was a pleasant place at night, provided you were too dangerous to attack.

And in time, Mazik’s feet had led him here. The building in front of him was the guildhall of Honor Guard, one of the adventuring guilds that occupied a section of Houk known locally as Adventurer Town. Compared to the Vector guildhall, Honor Guard’s headquarters was much more restrained. It started life as a modest noble’s mansion, and still looked like one, with only a pair of flags in the yard and a painted sign over the cast iron gate signifying its changed circumstances.

Mazik examined the building, tracing its balconies, its frosty windows, and its small weathervane on the roof’s apex. He knew that not far away there were more guildhalls just like it.

It’s as good a place as any to sit down and think
, thought Mazik. He sat down and pulled a leg up to his chest.

A hacking, phlegm-filled cough came from behind. Mazik ignored it. Then: “Can I help you with something?” said a gruff voice.

Mazik turned around, and found that the gruff voice belonged to a woman, albeit one with what sounded like either bad allergies or a life-threatening disease. He hoped it was the former.

There was another round of coughing, then the woman wiped at her nose and straightened up. “Sorry about that,” she said, pulling a handkerchief out of her tunic. “I’ve got pretty bad allergies.”

Knew it,
thought Mazik. He examined her more closely. Though he had been here a few times before, he didn’t recognize her. She was clearly a strong woman, and not just in personality. Beneath her unadorned leather armor was still the softness of a woman, but bolstered by hardened bone and strong muscles. Her clothes were expensive but practical, including thick boots, metal-plated gloves, and a knobby mace hanging from her side. Her hair was shot through with the first streaks of gray, though she didn’t look like this bothered her a bit.

Mazik nodded at the building. “Are you an adventurer?”

“That I am,” said the woman, the rasp in her voice lessening as the coughing fit receded into memory.

Mazik said nothing for a long second. Then: “Mind if I ask you a random question?”

“By all means.” The woman smiled. “I’ll decide if I want to answer it once I’ve heard what it is.”

“Fair enough,” said Mazik as he dropped his feet to the ground. “I’m just curious about how someone becomes an adventurer. How about you? How did you start out?”

The woman eyed Mazik. It felt like she wanted to say something, but she held back. “My husband was one,” she said, walking past him. She sat down next to him and looked up at the starry night sky.

“It was a long time ago, and my father had set up an arranged marriage meeting for me.” She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “I had no interest in it, but I went anyway. Ended up meeting my husband there.” She laughed. “It just wasn’t the guy my father set me up with.

“A couple of wyrllcats attacked the inn where we met—this was in a town much smaller than Houk, by the way. Mogworrl, down south. Anyway, so the wyrllcats attacked, and I helped a wandering adventurer put them down. That man was my future husband.”

“That’s a really nice story,” said Mazik. “How about him? How did he get into it?”

“Oh, him?” she said, shifting her mace into a more comfortable position. “His family is big in the guild. His grandfather was one of the original members, and there’s always been at least one of them in the guild ever since. Of us, rather.”

“Ah,” said Mazik.

Neither of them spoke for a time, their breaths curling upward as the woman coughed into the soft underbelly of her glove. Then:

“How about the others?” asked Mazik. “Your other guildmates, I mean.”

“That depends. You looking to join our guild?” asked the woman, not turning to face him.

“Nope. Just curious.”

Now the woman did turn to look at him. “What’s your name?”

Mazik briefly considered giving her a fake name, but decided against it. “Kil’Raeus.”

“You can call me Ada. Well, Kil’Raeus, who doesn’t want to become an adventurer, there are a few ways. Some people get in because they know people, like my husband and myself.”

“Yeah, got that one,” said Mazik, who didn’t know anyone.

“Others excelled in college. The top graduates from the best schools, as long as they’re not too bookish and docile, always stand a good chance of getting in.”

“Makes sense. They worked hard for it,” said Mazik, who had been an average student in a not terribly respected school.

“Quite a number were from rival guilds, or guilds from other cities. Even have a couple from the West, though they’re pretty rare.”

“I should think so,” said Mazik, who had never been in another guild, and came from here.

“Veterans always stand a good chance too, especially if they volunteered and distinguished themselves. If you can fight in the kinds of wars this country gets into and not get killed, that shows you’re solid.”

“Makes sense,” said Mazik, who was conscripted for the minimum time required, and was never involved in any major battles.

“And…” Ada trailed off, trying to think of others. She shrugged. “Stuff like that. Mostly we just look for whatever shows us that someone is powerful enough to keep up and that they won’t choke under pressure. There are a lot of people who want to get in, after all.”

“There’s no real substitute for experience, eh?” said Mazik, his voice carefully neutral. He felt like he shouldn’t move too much, lest his true intentions slosh out of the top of his head.

“Right,” said Ada. She snapped her fingers. “But hey, you’re not interested in joining, are you?”

“That’s right.”

“Despite the fact that you’re a caster, you carry a sword, and you’re outside an adventurer guildhall late at night looking wistful.”

“I’m a salesman. Weapons,” said Mazik, tapping the product case by his feet. “By the way, could I interest you in something? Perhaps a knife, in case you lose your mace?”

“No thanks,” said Ada. “I’m a barrier fighter. This is just in case anyone gets too close.”

“Fair enough.”

“Glad you understand,” said Ada. She slapped her hands on her knees and pushed herself to her feet. “Welp, Raeus—do you mind if I call you that?”

“Go ahead,” said Mazik, still not moving.

“Okay. Well then Raeus, I think it’s time for me to go. I enjoyed speaking with you. If you ever have other questions, feel free to come by and ask. I’m always happy to help.”

“Then, perhaps just one more question,” ventured Mazik.

Ada stopped in mid-stride and turned back. “Hmm?”

“Are there any independents? People who were freelance adventurers before they joined?”

Ada chuckled, the rasp of her allergies running across her vocal cords like a cheese grater in a busy pizza kitchen. One cough, and then she stopped.

“Not many. We guild adventurers don’t much like people who do quests we could have been doing. At least, not the kind of quests that are worth doing.”

“But there are some,” said Mazik. There was no hope in his voice, just the same even tone. The hope was all in his words.

“Oh, yes,” said Ada, nodding. “There are some.”

“And the quests? What kind of quests did they do to prove themselves?”

Ada smiled softly. “Some damned impressive ones.”

A long second passed.

“All right. Cool.” Mazik stood up and bowed. “Thank you for answering my questions.”

“No problem,” said Ada.

“Oh, and if you ever need a new weapon…”

Ada looked at the card Mazik was holding out. She shook her head, smiling. “Salesmen. You never stop trying to make a sale, do you?” she said as she took the card.

“Nope. You can never stop, not if you want to eat tonight.”

“Good advice. Remember that if you ever change your mind about becoming an adventurer.” Ada waved as she turned the corner and disappeared into the sleepy guildhall. “Bye.”

Mazik picked up his product case and quietly walked away.

*      *      *

Many blocks away, a young woman in a blue dress walked down an empty street alone. It was a wet and chilly this close to the river, a thin mist dampening her long blonde hair and making her normally plain and conservative dress stick to her body in ways that were anything but. She was not, as was often the case in these situations, a “lady of the night.” She was just a lady
in
the night, and any mistakes on this matter would have lead to much chagrin for both parties, and possibly an injured shin or two.