Firesign 1 - Wage Slave Rebellion (33 page)

“We’re going to walk in right through the front door!” said Mazik.

Gavi sighed and rubbed her temples. “Too vague, Mazik. Too vague.”

“I think he does that to make our lives difficult,” said Raedren. “That would also explain the plan too.”

“It’s simple
and
violent,” chirped Mazik. “My favorite!”

Kalenia looked at Mazik, confused and concerned.

Major Rur pulled a pocket watch out of another soldier’s pocket and consulted it. “And it looks like we still have an hour before we need to put that plan into effect. Finish up so we can get moving,” she said as she collected her maps. “I want to be done with this by midnight.”

“Actually, that reminds me,” said Mazik. “We need to discuss our pay.”

“That’s one thing I like about working with the guilds,” muttered Major Rur. “Standard payment terms.” She held up a finger. “One second please.”

Major Rur walked over to another soldier and spoke with him briefly, and then waited as he ran off. The soldier returned a minute later with a small binder, which he opened and showed to Major Rur.

“We’ll pay you 4,000Mc,” said Major Rur. “That’s total, not individually.”

“Wow!” said Gavi. “Uhm … is that good? I don’t have a frame of reference.”

“It sounds low for this kind of job,” said Mazik. “Major, considering the fact that we—”

“I’m going to stop you right there, salesboy,” said Major Rur, holding up a hand. “It’s actually average for this kind of job, not low. Now, seeing as you’re not in a guild, I could actually pay you
less
and you’d still take it, and be smart to do so, but I’ve decided to go with the standard amount because I like you, and because you kept the knife out of those bastards’ hands all afternoon when you could have just as easily given it to them and had a much quieter day. I think that deserves a little extra consideration.

“Now if you don’t think I’m being fair, that’s fine,” said Major Rur, “but I don’t have a lot of time, so if you argue with me too much I’m going to call that pompous jackass you get along with so well and offer him the starring role, which means you’ll have to play second fiddle to the guilds, and that won’t get you what you really want. So what do you say?”

Part of being a good salesman is never giving up, unless giving up is more profitable in the long-term, in which case part of being a good salesman is giving up immediately and shamelessly. Mazik was a good enough salesman to know which situation he was in.

“4,000Mc, sounds great!” said Mazik, holding out his hand.

Major Rur shook it. “I knew I was going to like you three. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have preparations to make. I suggest you do the same.” She plucked the cultist knife out of Mazik’s robes. “Thank you,” she said, and left.

“Wow, that was smooth,” said Gavi. “Aren’t you supposed to be a salesman?”

“Yes, but not a very good one, apparently,” said Mazik. He shrugged. “She’s right though. We’ll still get the exposure we really want, and 4K is probably pretty good. Combined with what we made last night, we’ll each have a nice chunk of change.”

“Plus, this way they might able to hire more people to help us,” said Raedren. “So we might get to keep living. Which would be nice.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” said Mazik. “If you like that sort of thing.”

Gavi reached up and ruffled Mazik’s hair. “Idiot.”

“I prefer to think of it as lowering expectations,” said Mazik as he dodged away. “That way, when I come up with a really great idea, it’ll seem even more impressive.”

“And when is that going to happen, exactly?” asked Gavi.

“He’s due for one soon,” said Raedren. “I’ve been waiting for years.”

*      *      *

“That’s probably mine,” Gavi was saying. “How about you two?”

“The most important lessons we’ve ever learned…” said Mazik.

Raedren scratched his beard. “That’s tough.”

“It is, isn’t it?” said Mazik. “There were a lot of them. And most of them were at my expense.” He laughed.

“Oooo, I want to hear those.” Gavi leaned forward.

“Then we may be here all night,” said Raedren.

“No no, I have a good one,” said Mazik. “It’s not so much a story as … a moment. Have you ever had one of those moments where something just sank in? A crystal clear memory.”

The other two nodded.

“I know what you mean,” said Gavi. “Those are really neat. Unless they’re embarrassing.”

“They’re usually embarrassing,” said Mazik.

Gavi smiled. “Naturally.”

“But not this one,” said Mazik, taking a swig. “I don’t know what it was, but it just stuck with me. I think it was during my last semester…”

“Though magick is powerful, it has limits,” said the lecturer. “Who can tell me what they are?”

No one responded. Of the hundred seats in the lecture hall, only a dozen were filled. It was late in the semester, and most seniors were skipping, except for those who had to show up in order to graduate. Most of them were sleeping.

The lecturer sighed. “Chief among them is the sovereignty of the mind,” she said, writing the words on the blackboard. “This rule states that no magick can be used to interfere with a mortal’s mind without their consent. That means mind control and forcible possession are absolutely impossible, no matter what some laymen would have you believe.

“This is a rule that even the gods cannot violate. Mas Raeus, how is consent given?”

Mazik was sprawled out on his desk, his eyes closed. “Worship and prayer,” he said, without moving his head. “The more you worship a god, the more they can get in your head and muck up the place.”

The lecturer scowled, but turned back to the board. “Correct. Gods have little effect on casual believers, but they can profoundly alter the minds and personalities of their most ardent worshippers. In practice, their most fervent believers become more like the god itself.” She cracked a wry smile. “That’s why it’s important to choose your gods carefully. Divine insanity has a way of spreading.”

No one reacted to her joke. The lecturer sighed.

“Mana is also less effective against tempered, fortified, or enchanted materials, such as metal tempered by followers of Tesburzenis, the God of Smiths. What else?”

A student raised his hand. “Casters can only use mana that’s been in their mana pool, and spells must originate from the caster’s physical location. Spells also have to remain under the caster’s control, or they’ll dissipate. Can we go now? We learned this years ago.”

“Then listen to it again. This is important. It could save some of your lives,” said the lecturer. “And yes, that’s correct. All other major limits are implied by how magick functions. For example, there’s no way to talk to ghosts, summon demons, or bring the dead back to life.

“Casters also have their own limits. And they are…? Yes, you.”

“The size of your mana pool is determined at birth.”

“Yes. What else?”

“Uhhh…” The student tapped her lip. “Casting endurance, I guess?”

“Correct. While in theory a caster can cast indefinitely, in practice spellcasting is like a muscle, and gets fatigued when overworked. What else?”

No one said anything. The lecturer gave up.

“Everyone has a natural inclination toward certain schools of magick. While it’s possible to master every school, most people are usually only able to become proficient in a few, with only the very determined mastering any. This isn’t a concern for divine casters, of course.

“All right, I can see none of you are paying attention. Wake up and listen to one last thing and I’ll let you go.”

Students grumbled as they were roused, some already packing up to leave. Mazik stretched his arms and slumped over the bag on his desk, his bleary eyes focused on the lecturer.

“Always remember that you’re limited by your mortal bodies, and that severe injury will stop you from casting. After all, it’s hard to use magick when you’re dead. Your final exam is next Tuesday. Please pick up all your things on the way out.”

Adventure Four
Salesman of Death

Mazik, Gavi, and Raedren stared up at the darkened façade of The Pit. They had been here before, but never like this. They had never intended to step onto the arena floor, for one.

For a city with so much sheer architecture per square meter, and most of it bad, The Pit was a rare bastion of simplicity, though only because simplicity was cheaper. With the lower stories carved directly out of the depression the arena was built into, the top two stories were made of simple arches supported by plain columns, with only the occasional frieze between levels as a concession to Houk’s ruthless artisan class. Hanging from every third arch were banners depicting famous battles, and torches hung from every other column. It all combined to give The Pit a ghostly appearance, like a flicker of candlelight exposing the time-bleached bones of a murder victim.

Mazik, Gavi, and Raedren stood with Captain Ankt and the city’s defenders in Kitpicc Square, to the southwest of the arena. The square—which was actually circular—was otherwise empty, save for the bronze statue at its center, whose head and right shoulder had been melted away during one of Houk’s periodic invasions.

Ahead, a fully shrouded cultist stepped out of one of the arena’s many gates. The indistinct figure bowed, and then stood unmoving, waiting.

Captain Ankt stepped forward and cupped his hands around his mouth. “We are entering in one minute! Pull your people back to the other side of the arena so we can make the exchange!”

The lone cultist bowed again, and then stepped back into the shadows. The deliberate silence shrouding the arena pulled away, and was replaced by the regular silence of nothing much going on. Across the defenders’ lines, eyes glowed green.

“They’re pulling back,” the guard next to Captain Ankt said.

“Good,” said Captain Ankt. He held up a hand. “Prepare to enter.”

Mazik, Gavi, and Raedren marched into the darkened arena at the head of the crowd. As guards and soldiers fanned out, heading for different entrances to secure the area, the trio went straight for the entrance where the lone cultist stood a moment before.

Gavi rubbed her shoulder and leaned over to Mazik. “Are we sure about this? We’re not exactly at a hundred percent here.”

“Not even a little!” said Mazik. He patted his chest again, making sure the cultist knife was still there. “But hey, where would be the fun in that? All I know is that we can’t pass this opportunity up if we want to get into a guild. We can’t let anyone overshadow us so quickly.”

“Getting into a guild is not helpful if we’re dead,” said Gavi.

“Then we better not die,” said Mazik. He winked at her. “Besides, doesn’t matter now. We’re too far in to pull out now.”

“That’s what she said?” said Raedren.

“Hur hur hur,” agreed Mazik.

“I know,” said Gavi. “I’m just nervous. It feels like there are a lot of enemies in there, and they’re all going to be looking at us.”

The other two knew what she meant. They still weren’t sure how many cultists they would be facing, but they did know that, per their agreement, only ten people from the city would be stepping out onto the arena floor, to meet ten cultists for the exchange. Along with the seven soldiers behind them, Mazik, Gavi, and Raedren were those people.

They entered the arena. After all the times the trio had been here—for the games were downright respectable nowadays, now that all the death had been reduced to a tasteful amount of bloodshed—it had never been this quiet before, nor this dark. The normally crowded halls were empty and silent, and the scattered torchlight only served to enhance the shadows, not banish them.

“Gulp,” said Raedren as Captain Ankt directed soldiers and guards. As their calls beat back the deafening silence, Raedren rubbed his arms. He briefly wondered whether he would end up regretting not taking a trip through the armory.

“I know, right?” said Mazik. He smiled, and there was only a hint of nervousness there. “My heart is beating like crazy.”

“You can say that again…” said Gavi as she looked around.

Mazik put a hand on Gavi’s shoulder, and Raedren’s as well. He gave them both a squeeze.

“Think of it like this,” said Mazik as soldiers and guards rushed past them, save for the seven waiting patiently behind them. “For one day,
just
for today, this entire damn city turns on us. We are the most important people in the whole place. Politicians, merchants, guards, priests, all of them—”

“If they knew about us,” said Raedren.

“If they knew about us,” agreed Mazik. “All of them. Every single person in this city is depending on us. They might not know it, but they are. If nothing else, I think that’s pretty cool.”