Epic (16 page)

“We can return to this,” said Injeborg, “and give them time to write up our items. Shall we just do the djinn thing first?”

“If it’s not some sort of trick,” B.E. said aloud. The master of the bank looked so offended that he quickly continued, “Just the musings of an adventurer. Please forgive me.”

B.E. jabbed his thumb with the dagger and, lifting the stopper of the bottle, let his blood run inside. “Is that enough?”

“Yes indeed. That is plenty.”

They all followed suit.

“Shall we test one now?” suggested Erik.

“You may if you wish,” said the master. “But since each djinn will perform only nine tasks before it is released, you may wish to wait until you need them.”

“Yeah, let’s wait. Gotta run, see you later.” B.E. disappeared, followed by Sigrid.

“It’s nearly time for dinner; we’d better go too,” Injeborg explained.

“And then there was one,” said the master, after Bjorn and Injeborg had gone. “I’m glad. I wanted to speak with you alone.”

“Oh, really?” Erik was curious.

“Please come with me.” They both stood up. Then the master paused. “Wait. No. Not yet.” Suddenly the animation of his expression and intelligence of his eye departed like clouds covering the sun. He stood unmoving.

“Hello?”

“Ah, hello, Cindella. How may I help?”

“I’m not sure really. Were you about to speak with me?”

But like an NPC who is not given the right trigger, the master simply stood, looking blank.

“Odd,” said Erik aloud. Then he unclipped.

 

High above the city, the committee had reconvened. Godmund was apoplectic with fury—so red in the face that Svein feared that the old man would suffer a heart attack. His wrinkled translucent fingers shook with impatience and suppressed fury.

“Good morning.” Hleid began the meeting. “We have just one item to discuss, the slaying of Inry’aat, the Red Dragon, by five people from Hope; the same five who, as the Osterfjord Players, recently performed well in the graduation championships. I believe Svein has the most information.” Hleid looked up at him expectantly.

“I do not have much more to add. They arrived in Newhaven about six hours ago, with seven carts full of the dragon hoard. The town put on a celebration for them, which every player in the game cannot have failed to see. They deposited the treasure in the bank.”

“How on earth did they kill a dragon?” exclaimed Brynhild. “They are only children.”

“Yes, the obvious question. I have spoken to the Hope librarian, and he tells me that they were practicing against wyverns. They seem to have exploited a loophole in the attack pattern of some creatures, including dragons, which causes them when struck by roughly equivalent amounts of damage to change targets, to the person who most recently struck. Presumably they fired arrows, keeping the dragon turning from side to side.”

“I don’t believe it.” Godmund, when he did speak, was surprisingly restrained, given the intensity of the feeling shown in his tense frame and frighteningly bulging eyes. “How is it a coincidence that Hope District supplies a team that defies us? Then we find a rogue assassin of ours living there. Now his son kills a dragon. It is my conviction that they are getting aid to subvert this committee and this society.”

“That’s just speculation,” commented Halfdan, brooding sullenly in his chair.

“Allow me to make a philosophical diversion.” Godmund heaved himself up and, with the aid of his stick, walked over to where the great windows looked out over the slate and wooden rooftops of Mikelgard. “We preside over a planet of what, five million souls? A peaceful society, a stable society. And what keeps it so? Epic. The law is solid, the economy is solid, and people work hard at the tasks allocated to them. Admittedly we have a drain of time into Epic and a problem matching the original colonists’ level of technology, but one day, many generations from now, we will work our way back to being able to manufacture sophisticated materials. In the meantime, it is the duty of those on this committee to prevent the collapse of the economy or the emergence of crime. Epic is not, I repeat not, a game.” Godmund turned around and glared at them and Svein, in particular, felt that he was the subject of the stare. “Nor is it a vehicle for gaining the adulation of the mob.” The old man worked his way back to the table and leaned, gripping the back of his chair. “Or a mechanism for the enjoyment of power. It is our economic and legal system. We cannot allow it to become unstable. Yet what do we have here? The worst news since some of you killed the Black Dragon. And worse than that, at least you were of our own. Now we have farmers’ children, with absolutely no loyalty to the system—in fact, since we exiled the boy’s father, they probably hate the system—and they are in command of a fortune that is probably bigger than that of Central Allocations. Do you realize what they could do? They could purchase the planet’s entire resources and distribute them as they pleased. This Harald has been a hidden enemy of ours for some time; now he has the means to wreak havoc. And that is only the economy. What about the law? If these young people have found half the items that we have obtained over the years, then they can defy all the law enforcers in the world. They can propose . . . for example . . . a change in this committee, and win it in the arena.” He paused, watching them, letting the point sink in. “For generations our forebears have evolved a system that is in balance. The people earn copper pieces; they spend them on resources that we have gathered from around the world. The coins, therefore, come to our bank account, and we fund the equipment of the central teams. A better system of government has rarely been achieved. Certainly the warfare that our ancestors fled has no possibility of appearing. But now. Now the system has never faced a greater threat and we will have to take decisive measures.”

“With all due respect, Godmund.” It was Bekka. Svein smiled to himself; she really had no idea of the dynamics of the situation. It was political suicide to cross Godmund right now; drastic proposals were coming and she was making herself a target. “We know very little about these people. Perhaps if we give them University places, they will come and help us administer the system? Perhaps that is all they want? The boy, for example, might just want his father back. We can accommodate that.”

“Actually,” Godmund said, smiling dangerously, “that is a possibility. It was always the inherent weakness of relying upon Epic that the game itself can introduce instability. Unfortunately it runs to its own rules and not to ours. But let us guard against the worst-case scenario—that they do want our ruin.”

“Are you making a proposal?” asked Hleid.

Godmund lifted a visibly shaking hand. “In due course. First of all, I want to hear from you that you all understand what I am saying. Ever since your generation came onto this committee, I have felt that it has become flabby. I have tolerated your indulgences, because it did not matter. But now I have to insist. No more games!”

With a slight blush, Svein wondered if Godmund was particularly directing his remarks against his own efforts to solve the Epicus Ultima.

“Now, let me hear from each of you. Do you understand the seriousness of the crisis? The potential for the utter ruin of our society?”

“Old man!” Wolf leaned back in his chair, apparently lazy, but his voice was quivering with the effort to keep it under control. “Don’t try to bully us.”

Bekka gasped aloud at his temerity and Wolf smiled. “You are entitled to your view, of course, and to make your proposals, but don’t think that you command this committee.”

“You are the arrogant one, puppy. It is you who likes to impress the crowds with your wolf form. But to lead is to foresee, not to perform circus tricks.”

“Now, careful,” interjected Hleid, seeing Wolf sit up ready with an angry reply. “We have to be united in our approach to this situation.”

“It would perhaps help matters if we had some proposals before us.” Svein thought the time had come to intervene.

“I agree,” Hleid quickly responded.

“Well, I have one,” offered Bekka.

“Go ahead.”

“That Svein go to Hope District and find out what they want. Find out what kind of people they are.” Godmund snorted, and she continued with a frown. “See if we can bring them into our structures.”

“And I have an alternative,” Godmund said contemptuously.

“Yes?”

“That we unleash the Executioner upon them before they become too powerful or misuse their treasure.”

Having been indolent with apparent boredom, Ragnok suddenly looked up to nod with approval.

“Well, that’s clear enough,” said Hleid. “The choice is between Bekka’s approach or that of Godmund. All those in favor of Bekka’s proposal, please show.”

“Just a moment, Chair,” Svein broke in hurriedly, but not before he saw that Hleid, Wolf, and Bekka were about to raise their hands. “We have not discussed the implications of using the Executioner. I, for one, am concerned that the world will conclude that we are responsible for their deaths. Perhaps they will discover our weapon.”

“Not if we do it right,” Ragnok muttered. “Wait for them to go exploring. Or when they try out their new toys. Accidents happen.”

“True,” added Godmund. “And in any case, so what if they suspect? We will keep the system intact, and in another fifty years it is all forgotten. Take the long view and take responsibility.”

“Any other comments on that proposal? No. Then I put the vote again. All those in favor of Bekka?”

Hleid herself, Wolf, and Bekka put up their hands. Svein added his, giving Bekka’s proposal four votes.

“And those in favor of Godmund’s proposal?”

This time it was Godmund, Ragnok, Thorkell, and Brynhild.

Everyone turned to look at Halfdan, who had not voted. “I’m not sure. I can’t decide. It’s risky.”

Godmund managed a vigorous slam on the table considering his years. “Blood and vengeance! You are not here for the view; you are on this committee to make decisions. Cast your vote.”

“Oh, very well. I vote with Bekka.”

The old man nodded, as if he was perversely satisfied that Halfdan had voted at all, despite the fact that it was against him.

“Bekka’s proposal has five votes then,” announced Hleid. “That is the policy we will pursue.”

“So it is.” Godmund sounded relatively calm in defeat. “But this strategy cannot be given unlimited time. I suggest we reconvene in a week to see what Svein has to report.”

“Is that agreed?” Hleid glanced over her glasses to read their faces. “Good. Then the meeting is adjourned.”

Svein shared the lift down with Wolf.

“Do you know what is funny?” Wolf asked as he retied his hair back into a ponytail.

“What?”

“I actually agreed with the old dragon. I just wanted to see his face if he lost.”

Svein chuckled. “That is funny.” A moment later, he sighed.

“What?”

“I have to go to Hope. I don’t know when you last went out of Mikelgard, but the food and wine of the South are terrible.”

Now it was Wolf’s turn to laugh. He patted Svein on the shoulder. “Your sacrifice will be remembered, comrade.”

 

Last to leave the chamber, Godmund hobbled again to the window facing out over the busy city. Long trails of smoke rose from the smithies, and clouds of steam poured from the funnels of the brewers. The stair doorway reopened and Ragnok tentatively took a few steps back into the chamber.

“Godmund?”

“Yes?”

“The point you made, about the future. We will be forgiven.”

“Yes?”

“Well, why don’t we act? You and I. We could take the Executioner and eliminate the danger.” Ragnok came closer to the old man, voice becoming more eager. “You know the codes; you could change them so that only you and I could access him. The others would have to go along with us then.”

With a long, appraising stare, Godmund stood silently for a moment. “Ragnok, the future will not forgive us if we go too far and arouse such discontent that we are forced to make radical concessions to parochial interests. And you know what would be a precondition of that?”

“No.”

“That this committee splits and the various factions look for support outside of ourselves. Do you see?”

“Not really. What could they do?” Ragnok’s eyes were pleading with Godmund’s.

“Let me put it this way.” Godmund’s reply was cold and hostile. “Who else amongst us could visit Hope District and be well received by the people? You? You are hated. But Svein will do a good job for us. Similarly Bekka, for all her faults, shields us from the West. She takes many cases and turns anger into tolerance. Now, suppose we do as you say. How will the others respond to such an action? They might vote us off the committee. So, we would retaliate with the Executioner, but if we killed one or two, say, the others would not submit lightly. And the South would rush to Svein if he appealed to them, the West to Bekka, and so on. The whole world would be torn apart.”

“They would not go so far.”

“Perhaps not, but then there is another consideration.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t trust you.” Godmund smiled and deliberately turned back to his contemplation of the city.

A wave of fury caused Ragnok’s teeth to clench and his face burned red. Several tense moments passed before he regained his composure and marched swiftly out of the room. The sourness that he now tasted in the back of his mouth came from the realization that, unlike the others, Godmund understood him only too well.

Chapter 15

TWO STRANGE INTRODUCTIONS

Cindella was on
a merry shopping spree, with three young pages from the bank patiently following as she made her way from merchant to merchant, increasing their loads with purchases of garments, potions, weapons, ointments, bags, boots, climbing equipment, more clothes and great quantities of books and scrolls. Although she was calling into nearly every shop that caught her eye, Erik did have a destination in mind. It was after midday by the time that they arrived at the huge guard, who stood motionless, day after day, outside Antilo the jeweler’s.