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  Jeremy raised one eyebrow. “Isaac Chase’s system.”

  “You mean Sebastian’s.” Tina frowned and met her boss’s eyes. “You want their entire network? ’Cause I’m not sure that’s possible.”

  “No, just one.” He stood. “I want the Blades VR system uploaded to our own drive.”

  Chapter 4

  “Grab him!”

  Sebastian heard the cry and froze. The angry buzz of a crowd became louder as bodies began to push and jostle against his back.

  “Filthy Traveller! Don’t let him get away.”

  He pivoted on his heel, expecting to see an angry mob reaching for him.

  But there wasn’t.

  The angry mob was there, but they were gathering in front of a stall to his right. Men and women pressed forward, eyes filled with anger and hate, hands clawing at a man who was now pinned against the wooden counter of the stall.

  “Damn.” Shale’s voice sounded from beside Sebastian. He jumped and realized that he’d been holding his breath. “Doesn’t look good for that dude,” she said.

  The man was hoisted into the air, arms and legs writhing as his head whipped from right to left, searching for help. Help that would not come.

  “Let’s go.” Sebastian turned and made his way to the closest gate. They passed through it and moved briskly, Shale close on Sebastian’s heels as he navigated through the growing crowd.

  Ten minutes later, they entered a tavern called The Brave Waif and moved to a table in the far corner. They sat on the same side of the table so they were both facing the front door. Shale’s gaze remained focused on it while Sebastian motioned to the server.

  The woman saw his signal and approached. “What’ll it be?”

  “Dark ale for me,” Sebastian said.

  Shale did not look away from the door. “Cider.”

  The server’s eyes squinted. “Expecting a fight?”

  Shale’s brows furrowed and her eyes flicked to the waitress. “No, why do you ask?”

  “You’re an archer, right?”

  Shale nodded.

  “I get nervous when archers come in here and don’t order alcohol.”

  Shale laughed, but the woman shook her head. “My cousin was an archer. Only time he said no to liquor or ale was if he was gonna need to shoot.”

  “Really?” Shale’s eyes sparkled. “That’s a pretty good tip.” She winked at the server. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to decide which target was the real one when I was drunk.”

  The server laughed. “You’re funny, for an elf.”

  Shale frowned. “Thank you? I think.”

  The pair said nothing else until they had received their drinks and were left alone.

  “I don’t think we were followed.” Shale stopped staring at the door and reached for her mug. She took a sip and set it back on the table. “For a minute, though, I thought I was a goner back there.”

  “Same here.” Sebastian raised the mug to his lips. “I was so close to the poor guy. Then I heard the crowd start to shout…” He took a drink and shook his head. “There’s nothing I could have done if they’d been coming for me.”

  “Same here.”

  “You have weapons and skills. You could have at least tried to fight them.”

  She shivered. “Skills wouldn’t have helped. Nor magic. Once the mob buries you,” she shook her head. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

  “In the game?” Sebastian asked.

  “What?” She frowned. “No, of course I still want to be inside the game. I’d just prefer to be on the road, somewhere away from the insane crowds.”

  “I agree.” Sebastian stroked his beard. The tavern door opened and Ezref entered. He saw them and nodded. Then he walked to the bar, paid for a drink, and carried it to their table.

  “Apparently there was an incident in the market.” He sat and took a drink.

  “Yes,” Sebastian said. “We were there.”

  The young crafter’s eyes widened. “You were?”

  “Thought they were after us,” Shale whispered.

  “Hush,” Ezref hissed. He glanced over both shoulders and then back at them. “Don’t say things like that.”

  “We’re safe here.”

  “Until we aren’t.” Ezref ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “All it takes is a word, a feeling.” He shook his head. “This is becoming worse than I thought it would.”

  “Join the crowd,” Sebastian said.

  “I’m serious.” Ezref’s face was pale. “The man who was taken in the market—I knew him.”

  “Really?” Shale asked.

  “Yes, and there’s no way he was a new Traveller.”

  “You can’t know that for sure,” Sebastian said. “It’s possible that he changed since you saw him last. That he was visited by a new Traveller and is now one of them.”

  Ezref shook his head. “I was speaking with him just the other day, when we arrived. I knew him well enough to know that there was nothing different about him.”

  “Maybe he was hiding it very well.”

  “Not well enough,” Shale offered.

  Ezref scowled. “There’s no doubt in my mind that he was the same person I’ve always known.”

  “Were you close?” Sebastian asked.

  “No.”

  “There you are, then.”

  “Please don’t doubt me on this.”

  “If what you’re saying is true,” Shale said, “and people are accusing others of being what they are not…”

  “Then no one is safe,” Ezref said.

  “It’s becoming a good old-fashioned witch hunt.” Sebastian shook his head.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “He means people are accusing individuals without cause,” Shale said.

  “And others believe the charges, fake or not.” The older man leaned close and whispered. “Something similar to this happened in our land a couple of centuries ago. Innocent people were accused of being witches—”he saw the look of confusion on Ezref’s face. “Evil crafters.”

  “Ahh.”

  “At first it was only a few. But after a bit of time had passed, the masses became bloodthirsty and started accusing innocent people at random.”

  “Why would they do such a thing?” Ezref asked.

  “Because the crowds enjoyed the spectacle.”

  “Like when chickens will peck one of their own to death for no reason sometimes?” the apprentice asked.

  Sebastian nodded. “That’s right. For no good reason, seemingly calm and peaceful people are possessed by a mob aggression.”

  “Well, I don’t like it. I say we get out of town and avoid them from now on.” Shale sipped her cider.

  “We must try and find as many players as we can,” Sebastian said. “Gather them together.”

  “Why?”

  Sebastian considered the question and shrugged. “It seems like the best course of action.”

  “To provide protection for them?” Ezref asked.

  Sebastian nodded agreement, but the thought flashed through his mind: Not protection for them. For me.

  Chapter 5

  Xander opened his eyes and sat up.

  He stood and turned to survey the room. Obsidian stone blocks formed the floor, walls, and ceiling. There was no discernible light source, but it was not dark. More like early morning before the light shines over the horizon.

  “Welcome back.” A small, raspy voice spoke from Xander’s left. He turned and saw the shard imp hovering in the air at eye level, its glossy black wings flapping lazily.

  “Heya. It’s good to see you again.”

  The shard imp raised one tiny eyebrow and chuckled. “Such politeness. Your sarcasm is so subtle that I can’t even detect it. You must be a master at the skill.”

  Xander shrugged.

  He stared at Xander for a long moment. “Still don’t remember me?”

  “Of course I do. From our last meeting.”

 
; “No.” He scowled. “I mean from our long string of interactions together.”

  “Oh. Then no. I don’t remember any of those.”

  “Well, that’s a shame. We were such chums.”

  “Your name is Xylacotyl, right?”

  “No.”

  “Close?”

  “Xy-clo-tl.”

  “Of course. Xyclotl. I was close, though.”

  The shard imp snorted and crossed his arms. “As close as comparing you to a tavern wench.” The creature grinned. “Or maybe that is too similar?”

  Xander laughed and shook his head. Xyclotl flew toward him and came to rest on his right shoulder. The young Death Stryker was prepared this time when he felt the sharp sting of claws digging through the cloth of his tunic.

  “I can’t believe we’re going to meet the Dark Lady again.” Xyclotl clapped his hands together. “The others were jealous to hear about my first meeting; they will go insane with envy to discover that I’ve looked upon her again so soon after the first time.”

  “The others?”

  “My brothers and sisters,” Xyclotl said. “What? You think I disappear and wait in some sort of empty purgatory between my visits with you?”

  “I never gave it any thought.”

  “Well, you should have. To answer your question, we do get time off. And no creature drinks like a shard imp, so we tend to hang out often.”

  “You like to drink?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Sure? That don’t sound convincing. Oh, gods. You’re a prude, aren’t you?”

  Xander laughed. “I’m not.”

  “Tell me about the last time you drank.”

  “Okay.” Xander’s eyebrows furrowed. “It was after we finished the Dryad’s Heart campaign. I started with ale and then had a couple whiskeys to chase it down. Then Shale asked if they had Sambuca and the bartender had no clue what she was ask—”

  “Hold on, hold on.” Xyclotl waved his hands in the air. “Wait just a minute.”

  “What?”

  “You actually remember your last drinking session?”

  “Yeah. Isn’t that what you wanted to hear about?”

  “You were supposed to tell me you couldn’t remember.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause you drank so much, partied so hard, that you blacked out and the whole night was a blur!”

  Xander laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever drunk that much.”

  The shard imp groaned.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s as I feared. You’re a prude.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Hey.” Xyclotl bent down and patted the Death Stryker’s shoulder. “It’s okay, buddy. I haven’t heard anything so bad that it can’t be fixed.”

  “I don’t think there—”

  “Uh-uh.” Xyclotl shook his head and raised one hand in front of him. “Don’t say anything else.”

  “But—”

  “Let me tackle one problem at a time, okay pal?”

  Xander laughed. “Okay.”

  “Atta boy.” Xyclotl nodded. Then he frowned and looked down at the ground. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “That’s my point. Get walking. We could have had this entire conversation while moving closer to our destination.”

  “Which is?”

  “The Dark Lady’s throne room.”

  “I have no clue where that is.”

  Xyclotl sighed. “Follow the directions I gave you.”

  “You…didn’t give me any.”

  “Course I did.” Xyclotl held one hand in front of his face and raised an index finger. “Great. Now we’ve got three things to work on. First, there’s the drinking.”

  “I don’t need any help with drinking.”

  “Second. Following directions.”

  “Which you never gave me.”

  “And third. Your memory seems to be totally shot. If you can’t remember simple instructions five minutes after I give ’em, you’re gonna have some tough times ahead.” The shard imp clapped his hands. “This is the big leagues, brother. Let’s get serious now.”

  “You. Never. Gave me. Directions.”

  Xyclotl stared up at him, lips pursed, then held up a fourth finger. “Argumentative. Fantastic. Keep adding stuff to the pile, why don’t ya.”

  Chapter 6

  Aleron raised the cup of tea to his lips and took a drink.

  The young crafter across from him was grinning. “Two levels.”

  “That’s right,” Aleron smiled. “Are you surprised by that?”

  “Absolutely. I thought that maybe I’d squeaked out one. I never imagined there were two levels waiting for me from this Scout visit.”

  Aleron rotated his neck, rolling his head from side to side, feeling tightness ease in his neck muscles as he did so. “Bugbears yield more experience than most expect.”

  “I guess so.” The crafter stood and adjusted his robes. “Are there any other monsters out there which give better-than-average experience?”

  Aleron winked. “I’m certain that there are.”

  “But you’re not going to tell me about them?”

  “The world is filled with many creatures. It would take too long to cover them all, even the surprising ones.”

  “Can’t blame me for asking, right?”

  “Of course not.” Aleron moved to the door, opened it, and gestured outside with a hand. “And you did it in a clever way, much as one would expect from a crafter.”

  The young magic user stopped at the door and turned, bowing at the waist. “I thank you for your service, Scout.”

  Aleron returned the gesture. “And we honour you for yours. Go forth and be well.”

  The young Scout closed the door, returned to his chair, and refilled his teacup. Kieran appeared from the other room and sat in the chair across from him.

  “Tea?” Aleron asked.

  “Please.”

  Aleron poured a second cup and handed it to Kieran. The master Scout nodded.

  “How did I do?”

  “Not perfectly.”

  “Of course not.” Aleron laughed. “Perfect is impossible.”

  “It is with that attitude.” Kieran took a sip of tea and then laughed. “You’re right, of course. Perfection is something that, by its very definition, can never be achieved.”

  “Then how about giving me some feedback that I can use to learn and improve?”

  “A fair request.” Kieran leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “You did as well as any Scout would during a normal session.”

  “That’s not so bad. Do you think that I’m ready to be given a village or town assignment, then?”

  “You’re ready.”

  Aleron frowned. “Something in your tone tells me I’m not getting one, anyway.”

  Kieran shrugged.

  “You are still uncertain of my loyalty?”

  “I think it’s good sense for me to be this way, still.”

  “Have I given you cause to doubt me in any way?”

  “No.”

  “Then come on. I’m starting to go stir-crazy, cooped up in this place.”

  Kieran chuckled. “You haven’t been here that long.”

  “There’s a whole amazing world out there to explore.”

  “You’ve experienced some of it.”

  “Barely.”

  “Enough to get killed.”

  “I was unprepared, then.” Aleron set his cup on the table. “With the skills that you’ve taught me, there isn’t much that could threaten me now.”

  “You may have abilities to help you survive, but the wildlife—and the native races—are clever and fast. They could take you as you sleep along the road one night, before you even know they are close.”

  “I’ll set the wards you’ve taught me.”

  “Some beings are immune to wards.”

  “Are they undetectable from
guard spells?”

  Kieran laughed. “The unseen servant will warn you of a fire dart, but flame pixies cast them so quickly that, by the time any alarm was sounded, it would be too late.”

  Aleron sighed.

  “Look. You have the skills, but your reflexes need more time to develop. And intuition can only be acquired by time and repetition. I can’t begin to count how often intuition saved my ass. And the times it didn’t. Preu Treya is an incredible place, but it’s extremely dangerous. Random encounter rolls happen way more than once or twice a night. And that’s on a boring, regular evening.”

  “Random encounter rolls?” Aleron frowned. “You sound as if you’ve played the role-playing game before.”

  Kieran smiled. “Of course I have.”

  “Really?”

  “When our team was assembled, only the geekiest were allowed to join the leader ranks.”

  “Huh. How many qualified for that rank?”

  Kieran opened his mouth to say more, then laughed and shook his head. “You’re good.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The Scout master laughed again. “I can’t tell whether you’re just curious to learn more for yourself, or if you are trying to gather more intel for when you rejoin your friends.”

  “They aren’t my friends. Okay, Shale is, but the rest are other players, and that’s it. I was right. You still doubt my loyalty to you. To the Scouts.”

  Kieran stood, set his cup down, and walked to the door. He reached for the doorknob and looked at Aleron over his shoulder. “Gaining our trust is going to take a bit more time, Aleron. Hang in there, though. You’re doing fine.”

  Chapter 7

  Fen looked up from his drink as the tavern door opened and a bard entered. There were shouts of welcome from assorted patrons, and the bard raised one hand in acknowledgement, smiling and flipping one part of his cloak over his shoulder to reveal a lute.

  The bartender made his way to the end of the bar closest to the door, leaning on the smooth wooden bar top. He smiled and called out to the bard, engaging him in conversation.

  The travelling entertainer nodded and smiled, then looked around the tavern. His eyes met Fen’s, and the warrior raised a hand in greeting. The minstrel accepted a mug of ale from the barkeep with a nod and waded through the crowd until he was standing in front of Fen.