Firesign 1 - Wage Slave Rebellion (24 page)

“What?” asked the jabbed man, his eyes glaring from beneath the perfectly flat plateau of his buzz cut hair. His craggy features morphed into a scowl. “I don’t know. If so, they’re not doing a real good job of it.”

“I haven’t seen them,” ventured the first man’s companion, a mahogany-skinned man with pale yellow hair collected into a tight ponytail on top of his head.

“Do you know what bar they’re in?” asked the fat man, jabbing the first man again, because he could.

“Look, I have no idea,” said Buzz Cut, brushing the fat man’s finger away. The ponytailed man shook his head as well. “Now would you get lost? I’ve got the late shift tonight, and I’d like to enjoy my meal.”

As the fat man turned to leave, he pretended to yawn. “Not in this one. The Bore’s Head,” he whispered. Then he pushed open the door, collected his waiting companions, and headed to the next bar.

*      *      *

“Ooo, food’s here,” said Mazik, sliding back into the booth they had moved to earlier.

“They were fast today,” said Raedren. “Just got here about five minutes ago.” A plate of grilled meat and butter-soaked vegetables simmered in front of him, untouched; he had been waiting for them to get back before starting.

“Good thing we called ahead,” said Gavi as she slid in after Mazik. “I’m starving.”

“Truth.” Mazik reached into his robes, drew the twisted cultist dagger, and jammed it back into the table.

Gavi winced. “Do you really need to do that every time?”

“Absolutely,” said Mazik, picking up his fork and giving it an unnecessary twirl. “It’s advertising! Or a conversation piece, or something like that. Maybe someone will see it and give us another quest.”

“I doubt that,” said Gavi.

“He just wants people to come over and ask about it, so he can brag,” said Raedren.

“That too,” said Mazik, without hesitation. He speared the forkful of fried potatoes and jammed them into his mouth. He moaned, “oh yeah, that’s good…” as steam escaped from his lips. The others sampled their meals and mumbled their agreement.

“So, how were the guilds?” asked Raedren, once he had wolfed down half of his meal.

“Mmmm, all right, I guess,” said Mazik, swallowing. He started to take a draught of whiskey, but realized this would do little to quench his thirst, so he opted for stealing a drink from Raedren’s beer instead. This passed without comment; Raedren was used to it. “They seemed a little, um…”

“Off balance,” volunteered Gavi, popping a piece of fish in her mouth.

“I was going to say ‘off’, but yeah, that. They didn’t seem to know what to do with us
⁴²
.” A thought occurred to Mazik, and he laughed. “You should have seen their faces when I told them Gavi was a waiter! Some of them damn near did themselves in right there.”

“Heh,” said Raedren. “So, what did they say? Can we join any of them?”

Mazik shrugged. Raedren waited patiently for clarification.

“We’re not sure yet,” said Gavi, more helpfully. “They all told us they needed to think about it, and that we should come back in a few days.”

“Hah!” said Mazik. “A few days, my ass. We’ll be back there tomorrow. That’s straight from Sales 101. I’m not about to let them forget about us.”

The front door opened, and a man in a burnt orange tunic and brand-new fatigues walked in. He stopped right inside the door and immediately scanned the room. It wasn’t long before his eyes fell on Mazik and the others, and he froze. He noticed the staff resting next to Raedren, and his eyes narrowed. Then he saw the knife embedded in the table, and his eyes grew wide.

The door hit the man in the back of the legs. “Hey, move out of the way!” said an irritated voice behind him. The man mumbled an apology and moved out of the way, his eyes never leaving Mazik and the others. He bent over and whispered to himself for a while, one hand on his ear. After a minute he straightened up and, after several more minutes of fidgety waiting, headed toward the trio.

“—said, so we went over to Paralysis next,” Mazik was saying.

“Paragon,” Gavi corrected him.

“Right, them too,” said Mazik, who knew full well what the guild’s name was. “They said—” Mazik stopped. “Uhm. Can we help you?”

The man in burnt orange tore his eyes away from the knife and turned to Mazik. “Ah, yes,” he said. He cleared his throat, and it sounded like he’d recently swallowed a handful of gravel. “Sorry if I’ve got the wrong people, but are you the ones who stopped those kidnappers last night?”

Mazik brightened up noticeably. “Why, yes. Yes we are,” he said, his chest swelling.

“Ah. I thought so,” said the man, his tone unchanged. He glanced at the knife again. “That was impressive, how you defeated those, uhm—took them out. Must have been very difficult.”

“Well, I don’t like to brag…” said Mazik.

“Yes you do,” said Gavi.

“You definitely do,” agreed Raedren.

“Didn’t we just talk about this earlier?” asked Gavi.

“I think we did,” said Raedren.

“Okay, you’re right,” said Mazik. “I lied. I love to brag. We’re fantastic. We’re
fucking
fantastic.”

The man’s face didn’t move so much as a millimeter. It was like his mind was somewhere far away, listening to a voice no one but him could hear. Still betraying no emotion, he held his hand out to Mazik.

“I was very impressed. If you don’t mind, I’d like to shake the hands of the heroes who stopped that menace.”

“I mean, I don’t know about
heroes
exactly…” said Mazik as he traced little circles in a puddle of spilled beer on the table. Gavi nudged him, eliciting a smile. “Sure,” said Mazik, sticking out his hand. “What was your name by the way? I’m—”

The man in burnt orange lunged for the knife. He wrenched it free of the table and turned to run, but before he could take two steps Mazik grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him backwards, laying him out across the table. The man snarled and tried to pull free, but Mazik wouldn’t let go. As the man turned to stab at Mazik’s chest, Mazik tried to pull away and stand, but his thighs struck the edge of the table and pitched him forward. Their heads collided with a terrific
crack!

That’s when Gavi and Raedren joined the fray. As barriers appeared around them, Gavi lunged for the knife and began slamming the man’s wrist into the table. This worked until the thrashing man turned the knife on her. Gavi jerked away, but before the man could throw her off completely Raedren pushed him down by the shoulders, and Mazik dropped an elbow on the man’s forehead like a hammer nailing down a screw. Dark indigo magick crackled as the man’s head collided with the table, and then he went limp.

There was a second’s pause, and then the bar exploded into action.

“You see what this bastard did!” yelled one man, grabbing the burnt orange man by the back of the shirt.

“The fucker!” agreed another.

“We should take ’em out back an’ beat him up!” yelled Silky Hair from the bar. This got a roar of approval.

“Yeh, and see if he has any money on ‘im! I’m thirsty!” said Scraggly. This earned an even bigger roar.

“Just tie him up. Make sure to use enchanted bonds
⁴³
!” added Mazik, holding his arm where the knife had opened up a new cut. “He’s not a great one, but he’s still a caster.”

“Got them,” said Tielyr, holding up a pair of the handcuffs. This wasn’t The Joker’s first rodeo.

As the burnt orange man was hauled away, Mazik, Gavi, and Raedren looked at each other, and then sat down heavily. They had never even made it out of their seats.

Mazik ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, that wasn’t encouraging. Thoughts?”

“He was going for the knife,” said Raedren, holding it up. He handed it back to Mazik, who looked it over once before sliding it back into its ill-fitting sheath.

“Well I’d say he was looking for a weapon to kill us with, but he definitely tried to run,” said Mazik. “Sounds like another cultist.”

“Almost certainly. His mana was the same color,” said Gavi.

“That can be changed,” said Mazik.

“They’re divs. Maybe not for them?” said Gavi. She shrugged. “It’s possible, but it would be too much of a coincidence.”

“Point,” said Mazik. “So we didn’t get all of them, they’re coming after us, and they want the knife.”

“And they probably know where we are,” said Raedren.

There was silence as they absorbed this.

“You think they’d know what we look like without seeing this?” said Mazik, patting his chest where the knife was sheathed.

“I don’t think it matters,” said Gavi. “I think we need to get the hell out of here before this place turns into a war zone. I don’t want to see it get blown to pieces.”

“It’s too late for that.”

Everyone in the bar watched as a cross-eyed woman wearing a russet tunic stood up from her seat at the bar. Her hips swayed confidently as she oriented herself toward the trio’s table, her hands on her hips, a sword also on her hips, and two men flanking her on either side. Also, no one remembered her entering the bar, which was cause for concern for some of the more clever and/or less drunk patrons.

The cross-eyed woman gave the trio a haughty smile. “Would you like to know one of the powerful magicks gifted to the followers of the Great One?”

“Which god is that again?” asked Mazik. “Though they’re all kind of shitty, if you ask me.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed, but she maintained her composure. “I’m referring to the ability to share what one of us sees or hears with the rest of our fellows. What one knows, all others can be made to know
⁴⁴
.”

“Ah,” said Mazik. He nudged Gavi, and she slid out of the booth. “So I suppose that makes you one of those followers, yes?”

“I am,” said the woman proudly.

“So just by looking at us, all your fellows know what we look like, correct?” said Mazik, rising from his seat.

“Yes. It is too late for you to run and hide. Others are already converging on this place!” she declared triumphantly.

“Ah,” said Mazik as he stood up. “Unfortunately, you’re forgetting one thing.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“They’re not here,” said Mazik, cracking his knuckles. “You are.”

The cross-eyed woman and her companions watched as the entire bar rose to its feet. From their expressions it looked like some of the patrons just might do something distasteful, while the rest were clearly looking forward to it.

“Ah,” said the woman.

“Yup,” said Mazik.

Half a minute later, Mazik separated himself from the lopsided melee.

“Come on!” hissed Gavi from the back door. “We need to get out of here before more of them show up!”

“Tie them up tighter!”
someone yelled someone above the hubbub.
“Only a few more kicks fer each of ya! Gotta keep em alive!”

“Yeh, so they can git hanged at a date ta be determined!”
yelled another. Laughter erupted.

“Hold on. That’s what they’d expect. Let’s check the front door first,” said Mazik, wiping blood off his hand. “If none of them are nearby yet, we might be able to melt into the crowd.”

“Fine. Let’s just hurry,” said Gavi. The three of them rushed to the front door and stuck their heads outside. They looked around.

“Do you see anyone suspicious?” asked Mazik.

Gavi quickly chanted a spell, and her eyes blazed green. “I don’t know. Can hardly pick anyone out among all these people…”

There was tap on her shoulder, and then Raedren’s arm pointed past her head. “Look.”

Gavi followed Raedren’s finger to the pub next door, the Dirty Hammock. There, one man and two women were doing the same thing they were, their heads stuck out of the front door as they looked around. One of them, a fat man in a too-tight suit, pointed at the sign above Gavi’s head. Then he noticed Gavi and the others, and began jabbing his finger excitedly at them. He and his companions immediately began pushing their way through the crowd toward them.

“Uh oh,” said Gavi.

“They aren’t the only ones,” said Mazik, who watched as several invisible cultists moved through the street toward them.

“Think that woman was trying to stall us?” asked Raedren.

“Doesn’t matter. We should get back inside,” said Gavi, grasping for her sword. She swore. Suddenly she really regretted not bringing her gear with her today. “Fast.
Really
fast.”

“Agreed,” said Mazik, yanking them back inside. The doors swung shut, and Gavi jammed a wooden bar through their handles.

As silhouettes of heads appeared in the grimy windows and someone began knocking on the front door, Mazik turned to face the bar at large.

“We may have a problem,” said Mazik. All around The Joker, weapons were drawn.

*      *      *

“I think I came out of that maze with three stitches of clothes and burns over my entire body,” said Mazik. “Trust me, by the next time we saw that place, I was a
lot
better at keening.”

“I’ll bet!” said Gavi, laughing.

“At least we had our rings,” said Raedren, holding up his hand. The gem embedded in it gleamed with green light. “It would have been even harder with the cheap training crystals they were handing out.”

“True,” said Mazik. “You remember when we got these things?”

“Today you receive your Telman class rings,” said the speaker. She held up a gold ring. To Mazik and Raedren, sitting near the back, it was barely visible.

“More than just a symbol of your time here, this ring is a tool that will aid you in the future. There is a Hydaervian focus crystal worked into the face of every magick major’s ring. These gems will enhance your spellcasting abilities, allowing you to keen and manipulate mana at a distance. Keep them safe—focus crystals are expensive, and frequent targets of thefts.”

“You don’t have to tell us that,” grumbled Mazik. “We’re the ones who paid for them.”

*      *      *

The fat man in the too-small suit watched as curtains were drawn across The Joker’s windows, except for the one window that didn’t have curtains, which was covered by a stack of chairs and three men’s shirts instead. There was a small commotion behind the front doors as something large and heavy was dropped into place, followed by heated whispering.