I don’t think it’s spotted us, Cuby said in thought speech. Let’s sneak back until it’s out of sight, then come up with a plan.

All right, I said, staring at the creature, which I tagged:

Valariel – Devil – Level 12

The devil stood upon the plainly carved rampart, centered above a massive ironbound gate. He had the shape of man, though his eyes were a dead giveaway of his inhumanity—a set of glowing red orbs that revealed ash-colored skin and underlit a set of curled ram’s horns. He wore black plate armor that was nothing but a dark shape against the night, but a sigil emblazoned on it shone with a light that matched his eyes: a sigil that was… not quite a pentacle, but the same general idea—a four-pointed star made of crossed lines that had only one plane of symmetry.

I stared at that symbol. Are you fucking kidding me? I wondered. What, are we worried about offending religious groups in the year forty thousand?

What? Cuby asked.

Oh, I said, Sorry, I didn’t mean to think that aloud. I blinked, suddenly afraid from what I’d said. How much could Cuby glean from those words alone?

Then I snapped my focus back into the present as a realization struck me with a greater surge of fear. I still don’t have an armor spell on, I said. I’m almost level 8—I was waiting until we got new abilities.

Come on—we’ll sneak away and come up with a plan, Cuby said.

We turned and began to creep along the path, and I was feeling confident that if the devil hadn’t seen or heard us yet, surely he wouldn’t see us now.

But then with a sound like a loud, quick cough and a burst of sulfurous smoke, he appeared on the path directly in front of us. “Come now,” he said, inclining his head toward each of us. “Alatar. Cuby.” His voice was smooth and dark like tinted glass, his movements precise and courtly. “I’d like to talk with you.”

Is there any reason to keep him distracted? Cuby asked.

I spoke, facing the devil. “Well. I hope you can forgive our abundance of caution.” I need just a second, I said to Cuby. You think he’s dangerous?

Very.

“The two of you are, I guess, quite capable,” Valariel said, looking between and smiling as if enjoying a particularly delicious secret. “You’ve made it here, haven’t you? And at such a reasonable level, too.”

As he spoke, I opened my inventory and abilities pane, rapidly choosing options to learn the Reactive Armor spell. I’d replaced Magic Arrow already, and everything else I had was too useful—but not more useful than having Defense Rating. I replaced Hex of Chains, safe in the knowledge that I could make another card with materials in my inventory—not that I much wanted to.

“If you don’t want to fight,” I said. “What do you want?”

I’m good to go, I told Cuby.

I want to hear him out.

Oh, I thought. Right: Cuby was Cuby.

“Level ten,” he said admiringly, looking us both up and down. “Quite the accomplishment. And I can only imagine you were perhaps involved with the nearby ruckus, yes?” When neither of us answered, he continued: “I understand your distrust. But I am devil, not a demon—nothing to do with these brainless demonic obstacles you’ve doubtless been encountering up to this point.” He made a congenial gesture with a gauntleted hand. “I am not here to kill, maim, or cause undue or unneeded suffering. I am here to… bargain.”

Just so you know, I said to Cuby. This always ends badly.

“You’re a shopkeeper?” said Cuby. “You’ve got things to trade?”

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“In a manner of speaking,” said the devil. “I have cards. Would you like to see some?”

“Definitely,” said Cuby. “Trade?”

Cuby, I said, my tone one of warning. Cuby, if you trust me about anything, trust me about—

I know, Alatar, she said in good humor. But I want to see the cards.

I waited. Cuby’s eyes scanned something I couldn’t see, and Valariel turned to me. “You don’t trust me,” he said, tone neutral.

“Look,” I said. “I don’t want to be rude. But there’s something about you, man. You give off a bad vibe, or something—I just can’t quite place where it’s coming from.”

His mouth curled into a smile. “I don’t take it personally, Alatar. You and I have something in common, I think—we are connoisseurs of subtlety, of trickery…” he paused a moment, and his voice grew just a little more vicious as he said: “—of lies.”

Oh, shit. Surely this guy didn’t know about my player race?

“You are a psychic and a mage, yes?” he asked, voice practically purring with satisfaction as he revealed he could see through my illusion. I had to wonder at how he’d guessed my classes—had he been watching us in the valley? “You hide your true power,” he said. “And I respect this.” His smile became an unsettling grin. “You use the cries of a terrorized and terrified child to claw and tear at the minds of your enemies—and I adore this,” he continued. “And men who are, like we are, accustomed to the power of trickery and lies, well: we don’t trust easily, because we know the strength to be found in being untrustworthy ourselves.”

“If you say so,” I said.

“Say,” said Cuby. “That’s a nice monk card you’ve got there.”

“I’d say so, too,” he said, turning to her. “And more: I daresay you can use it much better than I can. After all, two industrious and enterprising players such as yourselves are sure to have nothing but experience points in their future—you’ll need that card, soon.”

“How much do you want for it?”

“Oh,” Valariel said with a simpering look. “Nothing at all—not now, and perhaps not ever.”

I might have growled. “What does that mean?”

“I will explain in perfect detail, Alatar. You see, the two of you will—I do not doubt it—come in time to a place called Mirrakatetz.” His eyes flicked between us. “You know of it, of course. The great demon-machine that the gnomes brought to life, thinking in their hubris that their diagrams and schematics, that their machinery and metal were enough to make the thing their own—but even though they had built it with their own hands, their own plans, their own labors, they neglected to exorcize its ancient, living soul.”

He paused, glanced between us again, and waited until Cuby at last said: “Go on.”

“In that place there is an altar,” he said. “And you will know it when you find it. And either lain across an embroidered cloth upon that altar’s surface, or in the hand of the wicked soul who cares for that altar, is a dagger—an athame, its blade made of stone that has been colored red by the blood it has spilt across ages.”

“And you want the dagger?” I said.

“This is the deal,” Valariel said. “I will give you each one card from my stock. And what do I ask in exchange for this? Nothing. Nothing, that is, unless: if you should ever come across that dagger, you will take it into your possession and bring it to me.” He shrugged. “If I should get nothing for this bargain, it is no matter. I have the cards to spare. But even if it isn’t one of you two, my charitable bargains will, I think, eventually bear fruit.”

I looked over at Cuby. He’s going to give cards to Haroshi.

Yup, Cuby said, sounding resolved. She sighed. “I know you don’t know me, Valariel, but I’m not someone who underestimates the value of a favor. At the same time… I also don’t underestimate the value of an uncommon class. Not in a time like this. I’d like to think about it.”

“By all means,” he said. “Take as much time as you like to consider. In the meantime—Alatar, surely you at least want to see the—”

“Nope,” I said.

“You are a chosen,” he said. “And the wizard is quite—”

“Nope,” I said.

The briefest flicker seemed to pass through his composure, his smile seeming suddenly tight. “I admire your convictions,” he said. “But what wisdom is there, really, in stubbornness? It is the softer steel that makes the blade’s edge, Alatar. When the steel too hard hard, it becomes—”

“Shut the fuck up, Valariel,” I said.

Now a real flash of anger crossed his face. “Your friend, at least, seems to understand the—”

“No I don’t!” Cuby said cheerfully.

Valariel blinked, then looked between us. “I see,” he said, his face darkening. “If you cannot weigh the benefit of—”

“No, I got it,” said Cuby. “I did the weighing and I made my choice. No favors, and all the cards!”

“Oh?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re going to kill you now and take your stuff,” said Cuby.

I cast my Reactive Armor spell, then started casting an Implosive Missile.

“It’s like a bargain,” she said. “Just without your end of the deal!”