Firesign 1 - Wage Slave Rebellion (32 page)

“You’re not usually one to go for a physical retort,” said Mazik, and then dodged again.

“I’ll make an exception this time,” said Gavi. She waited for Mazik to say something else, her arm at ready. He just kept grinning.

“I’m sure Captain Ankt wouldn’t mind letting you visit his armory,” said Major Rur, once the laughter had passed. “We’ll take the cost of whatever you use out of your payment. Assuming you earn any payment, that is.”

“Or live to collect it,” said Captain Ankt.

“Your faith is appreciated,” said Mazik dryly.

“Thank you very much,” said Gavi to Major Rur. “Is now fine?”

“Probably wise, now that you’ve given everyone a license to look,” said Major Rur, taking advantage of that license herself. Gavi blushed again, which just made Major Rur laugh more. She turned to a guard. “Would you mind showing her the way?”

“This is ridiculous. They don’t even have proper equipment,”
an adventurer was saying.
“I heard she’s actually a waiter, over at—”

“Shhh, they can hear you.”

Mazik glared at the offending adventurers, but said nothing. Barely.

*      *      *

Gavi returned ten minutes later to find the room marginally more crowded. She thanked the guard who had escorted her and headed for Mazik and Raedren.

“What’s going on?” asked Gavi as she rejoined the others.

Mazik and Raedren looked up from their conversation. In one change of clothing, the impression Gavi gave off had completely changed. The biggest component of her new gear was polished leather, on her breeches, her scuffed yet sturdy boots, and the jacket she wore over a too-long tunic that flared at her hips. Tying it all together was a sword belt, on which a new sword hung. She also had a knife strapped to the side of her leg, as well as a small holdout crossbow jammed into the back of her belt.

Gavi looked like a real adventurer now.

Raedren glanced down at the plain cotton shirt, jacket, and pants he had been wearing all day. Even with his staff, he looked like a poor university student. “Maybe I should visit this armory too.”

“I know what you mean,” said Mazik. Suddenly his battle-damaged gray robes looked less badass, and more ratty.

“It was well stocked, but probably expensive,” said Gavi. “I guess we haven’t started yet?”

“Waiting for the last few people, I think,” said Mazik. He looked around. “I’m going to make a quick call,” he said, and then retreated to a corner of the room.

It took a few more minutes to start. Once the last person walked into the room, Major Rur stepped back up to the table and waited for everyone to quiet down. The room was mostly filled with coppers and soldiers, so it didn’t take long.

Mazik quickly finished his call and returned to stand next to Gavi and Raedren.

“Here’s what we know so far,” said Major Rur. “This evening, an unknown number of cultists affiliated with the god Amougourest infiltrated and took over the Kitpicc Gladiatorial Arena. This happened while at least twenty of their fellows laid siege to The Joker, a bar near the docks. They were trying to reclaim this knife”—she nodded at Mazik, who held the cultist knife over his head—“that our friends here took from one of them last night. After a somewhat
damaging
escape, these three managed to get away and bring it to us.”

Mazik laughed ruefully and scratched the back of his head. Several coppers, who were already having to deal with the aftermath of said escape, booed the trio openly.

“But they still want the knife back, and they’re willing to trade hostages for it,” continued Major Rur. “They’ve holed up in The Pit with an estimated forty to sixty hostages, and are demanding the knife back as well as safe passage out of the city. We think this is a lie. Based on their actions and what we know of their god’s rituals, it’s believed that as soon as they reclaim the knife they’re going to attempt a magick ritual, and one that probably needs to be cast within the city. The Tyrant has asked us to capture or kill all of these cultists, preferably while rescuing our citizens, and stop them from casting their ritual.”

Major Rur looked back at Captain Ankt, who nodded. “We’re now going to tell you what we know about these cultists and their god,” said Captain Ankt. He patted the copper next to him and gently pushed him toward the head of the table.

The older copper adjusted his glasses like a fastidious librarian, and then cleared his throat. “From eyewitness accounts and a study of texts such as
Practical Mythology
, the Cult of Amougourest specializes in stealth and speed. Their core suite of arcane-replicable spells are not terribly powerful, but their incantations are short, allowing them to strike quickly and repeatedly. Their signature magick is a lesser invisibility spell that renders the caster completely invisible to the naked eye, as well as muffling their sound and smell. They remain fully corporeal. This spell can be negated through the use of sight enhancement magick. If anyone wishes to acquire this magick before the mission, we’ve asked one of the priests from Levi’s God Emporium to join us and convert anyone who wishes it.”

A woman wearing stuffy red-and-white robes raised her staff, the large bell on the top clonking twice.

The older copper looked at his notes before continuing. “As for their rituals, we—actually, so here’s why we think they’re trying to cast a ritual at all,” said the older copper, backpedaling. “There are several similarities between the higher order Amougourest rituals we know of. They include:

“One, they must be performed within the borders of a town or city. The more powerful the spell, the larger the population center that’s required.

“Two, they require sentient sacrifices, with more sacrifices required for the larger rituals. Sometimes the sacrifices have to come from the city the spell is being cast in, sometimes they have to come from other cities or countries, and sometimes both.” The older copper squinted at his notes. “There’s also some mention of rituals becoming more potent if the sacrifices are made over time rather than all at once. If true, that might be why they’ve been kidnapping people for months.

“Three, they require a high-level member of the Cult of Amougourest to do the casting, certain special items, and a unique spell array.” The older copper looked up. “Those are standard for spells of this level. Some of these spell arrays can get awfully large though, which is another reason why we think they took over The Pit.”

“Do you have any idea which ritual they’re trying to perform?” asked Rynthe. He had finished sulking, and his demeanor was all business.

“Let me see…” said the older copper, looking back at his notes. “As you no doubt know,
Practical Mythology
and other texts tend to have incomplete information for smaller religions, but we have some guesses. Based on the number of sacrifices so far, give or take the ones they’re proposing to trade for the knife, and allowing for some variability, there’s a spell for granting some of their number a better invisibility spell, for powering up one of their leaders, for supposedly increasing the lifespan of one of their leaders, uhm…”

In the back, Captain Ankt scoffed. “So it’s probably some head honcho trying to enrich himself at the expense of others. That’s usually what they’re after.”

“Yes sir,” said the older copper. “The only oddity is the size of the city. Houk is far larger than any city required in the spells we know of. I’m not sure why they would risk operating in a city of this size if it wasn’t necessary.”

“Maybe they thought it would easier to blend in if they did it in a larger city,” said one of the adventurers standing next to Rynthe. “They did manage to avoid capture for months, and they took over The Pit without any problem.”

All around the room, coppers and soldiers grimaced. As much as they hated hearing that from an adventurer, they couldn’t deny the logic.

“Anything else?” asked Captain Ankt, stepping up to the table.

The older copper looked down at his notes. “No sir. They have a few summoning spells, some mutation spells … but it’s all pretty standard for this kind of cult.”

“It saddens me that this kind of shit is standard,” grumbled Captain Ankt. He unrolled a map and spread it across the table.

“All right, here’s what we know about the enemy,” said Captain Ankt. He jabbed his finger at the map. “This is a map of The Pit. I’m sure most of you bloodthirsty savages—sorry, I mean adventurers—have been here before, but there are a few things you might not know.” He tapped the map. “It sits in a two-story depression. There are hallways all around the third deck that lead into the seating area. There are two tunnels on the North and South ends that lead down to the arena floor. The walls around the arena floor are one story tall, on top of which are four focus crystal installations that allow for the casting of large barriers to protect the crowd. There are tunnels underneath the arena, known as the Catacombs, that allow them to flood the place with tigers or scorpions or water for sea battles. There are a couple of tunnels that lead down into the Catacombs, though all of them but this one in the west that leads to a storehouse have been sealed. Any questions?”

There were none.

“We don’t know how many enemies we’re dealing with,” continued Captain Ankt. “Probably at least fifty, but maybe more, since they’ve been smart and mostly kept out of sight of the buildings around The Pit. We do know that they patrol frequently enough that our earlier attempts at entry resulted in the quick appearance of multiple cultists, so they’re either sharp or numerous.”

“One other thing,” said Major Rur, raising her hand. “The Tyrant has asked us to take care of them however we deem necessary, but if possible she wants us to confine the operation to the arena, since any fighting is less likely to spill out into the city from there.”

Major Rur and Captain Ankt looked at each other, and Captain Ankt nodded.

“All right, that’s everything we know,” said Major Rur. “Now we need a plan, and we have…” She glanced at a wall clock. “…just over three hours until they start killing hostages. Any ideas?”

There was a short pause, and then everyone began talking at once.

As Major Rur and Captain Ankt tried to shout the discussion back in line, and the adventurers in particular resisted them, the older copper quietly slipped away and settled into his desk near the wall. He nodded to Raedren, who was flipping through
Practical Mythology
at the next desk. Raedren nodded back, and returned to his reading.

*      *      *

It took ten minutes before the guards let Kalenia into the guardhouse. Most of the coppers and soldiers had already left to prepare for the operation, leaving only a handful manning the de facto command center. Their number included Major Rur, Captain Ankt, and most of the adventurers.

Kalenia found Mazik facing off against a man in green robes.

“So what you’re saying is, even though we’re the ones who actually
found
these bastards in the first place, and we’re the ones who came up with the plan we’re going to use, we’re still not good enough for your guild?” Mazik was saying as Kalenia approached. “Because I get the feeling I could kick your ass right now, and my two friends are way stronger than me. We’d be a bargain.”

Gavi leaned over to Raedren. “In what way are we stronger again?” she whispered.

“I think he meant to say ‘more sane,’” said Raedren.

“Ah,” said Gavi.

Rynthe’s eyes narrowed. “Despite what you seem to think, we don’t decide who gets into our guild based on who can ‘kick who’s ass,’” he said, handling the phrase like a dirty handkerchief. “There’s more to being in a guild than who’s the most violent.”

Mazik winced inwardly.

“Of course, of course,” he said, patting Rynthe on the shoulder companionably. The other man looked like he wanted to snap Mazik’s arm off. Mazik smiled brightly. “But hey, I look forward to working with you on this quest.”

Rynthe stared down his nose at a man ten centimeters taller than him. “Likewise. Major?”

“Hmmm?” said Major Rur, not looking up from the map she was leaning over.

“If we’re decided on this plan, we’re going to go prepare,” said Rynthe, motioning to his fellows. “Is there anything you need from us right now?”

“No, you’re fine,” said Major Rur as she added another X to the map. A corporal came over with a cup of coffee. She thanked him.

Rynthe bowed. “Thank you. We’ll be ready shortly,” he said, and then he and his guildmates left. The members of other guilds slowly filtered out as well.

“Asshole,” said Mazik. “I wish we could make our own damn guild.”

“Why can’t you?” asked Kalenia, stepping forward.

“K, you’re here!” said Mazik, suddenly all smiles, and earnest ones at that. He enveloped Kalenia in a hug, the grocery sack crinkling between them.

“Here you go,” said Kalenia, handing Mazik the sack. “I also made a few sandwiches while I was at your place.”

“Oooo, thank you.”

“What did you ask fo— oh,” said Gavi as Mazik emptied the bag onto the desk. He picked up the heavier gray robes he showed off weeks ago and shook them out. “Of course.”

“And to answer your question, we can’t,” said Mazik as he slipped out of his shredded robes. “The guilds have a government-backed monopoly. Oligopoly? Whatever. If we try to form one without an official charter, they’re allowed to hunt us down and beat the crap out of us.”

“And we don’t have enough people to ask for a charter,” said Gavi. “We checked.”

“Not that they would give us one anyway,” said Mazik. He smoothed out his new robes. “How do I look?”

“Mostly the same,” said Gavi.

“I’m sure the battle will take care of that,” said Raedren.

Mazik ignored them. “Thank you, babe. You’re the best,” he said, hugging Kalenia.

Kalenia looked around. “By the way, is it all right if I’m here?”

“It’s fine,” said Major Rur, still bent over her map. “If they cleared you up front, you’re fine. Just be vague about what you tell her, or we’ll have to hold her here until the operation is over,” she added, directing her last comment at Mazik and the others.