(World of Valdira 01) The Way of the Clan (12 page)

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You’ll have to pay ten coppers extra for the belt – rasped the shop-keeper – All right! Take it so! Don’t keep me out in the cold, stranger! I’m crazy about such fairy-tails and nursery rhymes. Truth is as scarce as hen’s teeth in them, but why not to enjoy listening just to kill some time?

I buckled the belt at my waist, looked in the mirror standing at the wall and was quite satisfied with my reflection. So that’s the way I can grub stuff step by step. Then it’s time to come back to the conversation with Frol until the honorable trader had a stroke because of nervous overstrain.

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Why not? I can tell you – I nodded agreeably and looked up at the shop-keeper. – But I don’t believe that it was a mere fairy-tail or a fable. And as we’re going to discuss this topic, honorable Frol, let’s agree – roll my log and I’ll roll yours. Vlasilena mentioned that the day after that incident you visited her and asked about it. I’m also crazy about such stories.

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I came to her just to ask about her health! After all we’ve been living so many years next to each other! And when I saw the withered oaklings I asked her straight what bad luck had happened to them. You’re mistaken, stranger, I don’t have any special interest in it.

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Well… I see that we won’t be able to have a good talk, honorable Frol – I drew a conclusion, then picked up my knapsack from the floor and threw it over my shoulder. – I must go now. I think I shouldn’t bother such a busy man and draw you away from your work.

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Wait! – Frol exclaimed – Wait... ok… you win, stranger. I’ll pay you five silver coins for your story!

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I don’t care – I said on my way towards the door.

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Ten coins! Hey… Stop! I’ll give you a gold coin! A gold coin of the realm!

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I don’t care about money, sir – I shortened my stride – You know my price.

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Well, please, stop! Let’s have a talk.

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Ok, I don’t mind – a wide smile spread on my face at once. – But you start. You’re welcome, honorable Frol.

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Not here – muttered the shop-keeper short looking askance at the guard who was keeping his ears open – Follow me. Cron, look after everything here.

We left the showroom through a small door in the rear wall and found ourselves in the back room used as a storeroom. A chubby butterball squeezed between shelves and landed with a groan on a broad bench stuck to the wall. I sat down nearby him and showed a prime involvement.

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What’s your name, by the way?

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Rosgard, - said I fidgeting. It was the second NPC who asked my name.

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So, Rosgard, I’m looking at you and realize that you won’t let it alone. Otherwise you wouldn’t interrogate me, would you? Give it straight!

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Why are you asking me about it, I wonder? Is it due to your curiosity or do you want to have a serious conversation?

Such a heavy silence hanged in the storeroom that it almost pressed me. But I managed to stay patient and didn’t break the silence. Like enchanted I was looking into the NPC’s face that suddenly had gone frozen and run, his eyes with enlarged pupils were staring nowhere, his fleshy fingers squeezed the edge of the bench so strongly that I even heard the crackle of the wood clearly. An incoherent mutter emitted from Frol’s half-opened mouth:

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Erghm… tomorrussh…lickkhrmah… extrs…

What hell is happening here?! It looks like as if the ‘local’ has ‘frozen’ the same way as it usually happens in computer games but I don’t remember such a case happened in Valdira ever.

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Frol! Frol! – I couldn’t stand it anymore and started shaking his fat shoulder – Frol! Wake up! Hey!

His body suddenly jerked, the shop-keeper started, jumped up briskly and butted the bridge of my nose by his head. I was thrown back by such a powerful hit. I splashed against the wall and leaked down on the floor. You motherfucker… but why…

The battle finished as suddenly as it started – the trader got frozen again staring at the ceiling with his fixed eyes and ignoring that I was lying at his feet.

I rolled over to raise my body heavily and first of all checked my health characteristics.

Life: 23/170

Oh… my health scale had been almost full… it had lacked just fifteen-twenty points. What strength did the rabid NPC impose to butt me?   

I was lying in the furthest corner of the tiny room. Frol frozen like an idol was blocking the exit with his fat body. I can squeeze there but if he catches me again, it will be the end, I’ll kick the bucket for sure. Digging in the rucksack frantically I took out the remains of the food and without chewing started pushing stale bread and potatoes into my mouth with my glance fixed on the trader. From time to time I squinted at the flashing red digits:

Life: 35/170

Life: 42/170

Life: 49/170

Come on, come on…

The trader started again, shifted from one foot to another heavily and turning around suddenly softly sat down on the bench back. His eyes became conscious. Frol smacked his palm on the bench and said decisively:

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Why am I asking you? I can answer you straight – I wanna hire you, stranger, to sort out this story for me. Your reward will be decent! Once you succeeded in talking out the tongue-tied Vlasilena… - finally Frol the Money-Box’s glance focused at that moment and he looked at me with amazement – Hey… why are you stretching out on the floor?

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I’ve slipped from the bench. Such slippery benches you’ve got – I muttered while standing up – Please, continue, honorable Frol.

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There’s nothing to continue until you decide. Will you take on it?

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Yes, sir! – I replied hastily. The data popped up in front of my eyes and I felt my jaw falling open when I was reading it:

You’ve got a quest ‘???’

???

Minimal requirements to complete this quest: ???

Award: ???

Question marks were flickering before my eyes. What does it mean? Such quests don’t exist at all. Yes, sometimes it happens that you don’t know your award until you complete a quest, but in such cases the screen usually reads: ‘unknown’. But what hell is there no name of the quest and no summary? And if I take into account the attack happened to Frol – or I’d better say a ‘glitch’, then everything becomes absolutely complicated…

There is still some good news – I got the quest no matter how oddly I had done it. I could bet my bottom dollar there was no a single word about it on the forum.

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Rosgard?

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Yes! I’m here listening to you attentively, honorable Frol – I checked myself.

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So… I don’t know what to start with – the shop-keeper sighed – Ok, that’s the way it happened…

Frol the Money-box was speaking for a long time. He was skipping from one event to another, sometimes repeated the same, diverted from the subject a couple of times and I had to interrupt him softly and return him to the essence of our talk. His confused narration made me alert even more. As a rule ‘locals’ explain the essence of a quest quickly, distinctly and clearly – up tight. But then I was listening to some muddle. Useless nonsense amounted for eighty percent of it where some separated pieces of valuable information could be drawn out.

Nevertheless I managed to pull out from the trader everything that he knew and even more – after the night incident the adventurous Frol ran around the Cradle and questioned the people there. Actually he pulled a big job in hot pursuit. There were enough of toeholds: Vlasilena’s suddenly withered oaklings, a couple of cats killed without an obvious reason, black spots of soot on several houses, Jameson, an old man who died because of the heart attack. Besides, a fence fell down – and the fence wasn’t a frail one, it had been built from crude stone as high as an adult! What should have happened to knock down such a fundamental construction? And I mentioned only the most significant disasters apart from loads of bits and pieces like a hive of honey-bees died off, clay plates of Darrel, the potter, broken in flinders, a family of beavers disappeared for several days although it used to leave in the hammer-pond at the mill for ages. All those different incidents had one but very important thing in common – all of them without an exception happened at the same night. But what happened? Nobody knew although many had heard some night noise. Darrel, the potter, for example, heard sounds of a furious struggle right in front of his house, some groans and plates broken in flinders. But he was too frightened to look out of the window and find out what was happening. So he was hiding behind the shut blinds painfully squeezing a fire rake by his fingers and silently praying all the gods at once.

The most interesting information was drawn out from two guards carrying bat at the northern gate – the place to exit the Cradle into the city. In exchange for two jars of expensive wine they said that at the famous night only two creatures had gone through the gate coming from the City into the Cradle. The first had been an ordinary human dressed in expensive clothes and there had been nothing distinctive in him except for a too rapid gait and the fact that he wasn’t from the Cradle. An alien. The entrance was free, it wasn’t forbidden to walk through the gate at night that the guards stayed quite indifferent to him. In several minutes another alien rushed through the gate. But the guards couldn’t name his race. First because the second alien was dressed in a long grey cloak with a deep hook, second the guards felt weird when the alien slit his glance over them and rushed away crouching to the ground like a beast smelling tracks. Ten minutes passed since the second alien had entered the Cradle and the guards heard a long heavy sound and witnessed a bright flash on one of the streets. But it occurred to none of them to check what had happened there. A formal excuse was that it’s strictly prohibited to leave the watch post. An informal but true one was that they were terrified to do it. Thus, they didn’t tell anything a senior officer while they were coming off duty. But they told Frol about it as they were on friendly terms with the trader and moreover drunk like hell. Nevertheless they asked him to swear not to tell anyone. Both the guards could bet their life that those two aliens never came to the gate again. They had come in but they hadn’t come out. Frol got silent wiping sweat off his face, I was keeping my eye on him waiting for the story to be continued. But it wouldn’t come. So I had to ask:

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Frol, I can’t catch one thing… why do you want to know it? What’s the reason of your curiosity?

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Is it a problem? – the trader wondered reasonably.

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Nope – I shook my head – But if you wanna me find out the truth then it serves your interests to let me know everything.

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First you tell me everything that you know! – demanded Frol and I had to obey with a sigh.

It’s the first time I’ve come into such a strange quest.

I tend to repeat the same ideas, don’t I?

I retold the trader everything that I had heard from Vasilena in short. It took me five minutes only and I was about to finish my story when I noticed some disappointment on Frol’s face and that’s why equivocated at the end. In one word I was singing my song for extra ten minutes. I involved some faked details, added some gloom – although it seemed enough, and to crown it all imagined a load of nice trifles that had nothing to do with the real story. I remembered to make a hint that in my adventurous past (ha, ‘born’ three days ago) I solved such cases brilliantly and all my clients were always satisfied with the result so much that they were almost squealing with delight.

My oratory skills were appreciated. The trader was oohing and aahing changing the color of his complexion. Making sure that he was utmost ‘ready’, I asked again:

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Why are you so interested in it, honorable Frol?

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Ok… there’s no reason to beat about the bush. Judge for yourself why a trader can be interested… Because of goods and money. For sure. I also heard some noise that night. First something like a muffled howling came, then a crackle. I rushed outside to see a hole as big as my head in the gates. And all my yard was covered by chips. In the first place I couldn’t understand anything. I was standing still and looking around in shock. Then I saw… well, this stuff, well… there’s nothing to talk about.

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What did you see? – I put the squeeze on mumbling Frol – Just say it.