I awoke back in Garrett’s flat. Despite the room being pitch black around us, I could tell because of the faint lingering smell of vomit. I groaned, as much with annoyance as from pain.

Garrett’s voice reached me. No concern or relief that I was safe, either. Just annoyance. “It’s about time.”

“Good to see you too.” Not that I could see him in the darkness, but I figured the sarcasm would convey my point anyway.

“What the hell was that? Are you trying to get us killed?”

“That,” I said bitterly, “was Salvidora.”

For a brief moment, silence filled the room. Then, he sighed. “So much for surviving the curse.”

“I did survive,” I reminded him.

“Just barely. As it was, I had to drag your unconscious ass out of there before the paladins found you. Shit. What is it with these things and not liking language?”

“What?”

“The sword. Any time I curse, it – I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Oh the zap.”

“The what?”

“Zap. You know, shock.”

“You always did have a peculiar way with words. But what about the ‘zap’? Is that normal?”

“No idea. But you get used to it.” I rose, but cautiously this time. I didn’t want to have to scrub puke up a second time. “So, let’s talk about the grotto.”

“What?”

“It’s pretty obvious Salvidora is going to keep screwing with me until I figure out a way to butter the old bat up.”

“And how exactly to do you plan to prosecute this charm offensive?”

“Whatever I have to do. Beg, borrow, or steal.”

“Stealing’s what got you into this mess,” he reminded me.

“Yeah, from Salvidora. But maybe there’s something she wants. Something I can get her.”

“And maybe she’ll turn you into a pillar of ash.”

I straightened my back, and was pretty sure I could hear ribs clicking and clacking. Into place or out of place, I couldn’t tell. “Well, it’s not like I’ve got better options.”

I felt my objectives update again, and I winced. It was a weird feeling, like a thought from someone else’s mind, in my head.

Pulling up the chart, I saw two new entries on the [Rogue Objectives] chart.

<<<<>>>>

* Locate the Grotto

* Speak to residents of the sector (optional)

* Explore the sector (optional)

* Find a map to lead you to the Grotto (optional)

* Quest giver: self, new arrival and wayward soul

* Convince Salvidora to lift the curse

* Quest giver: self, new arrival and wayward soul

<<<<>>>>

“Ugh,” I said.

“What?”

“The objective thing.”

“Oh. Yeah, I got one too. You’re my quest giver. Not too sure how I feel about that.”

“Doesn’t make sense, does it? They assign us this AI to keep track of our objectives and supposedly not interfere with us, even though we’re – well, not exactly doing what they want us to do, are we. You believe that?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Don’t see that we have much choice about it either way.”

He was right about that. I hadn’t asked for Kharon, and it hadn’t mattered in the slightest that I didn’t want a digital spy tracking me. Or, arranging my objectives.

Still, something felt off. Leopold and the Sorcerer had gone through a lot of effort to build this place. Why would they risk people like me screwing it up somehow?

Maybe, I thought, because there was nothing I could do to screw it up. Maybe instead of squelching any dissent, they let us feel like we’d accomplished something. Like we’d gotten away with something.

I supposed it didn’t really matter one way or the other. If Kharon was spying on us, Leopold or his security forces already knew what we were up to. If Kharon was going to turn us in, he’d do it. Or, if he was going to let us keep flailing pointlessly, well, we’d do that.

Time will tell. I cringed as the thought entered my mind. It sounded like something my mom would say.

My mom was a fine person, and all. I loved her and missed her, if not the “when are you getting married and giving me grandbabies” questions. Disappearing from the face of the Earth, literally, did have some perks.

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But suburban yoga mom wasn’t exactly the ideal I set for myself.

I tried to think of how my dad would view the situation. Through beer goggles, I figured. Which sounded pretty good, if I was being honest. But in a sector without water and food, beer wasn’t likely at hand.

Garrett pulled me from this tangent with a sharp, “Kaej!”

“Huh? What?”

“Exactly how hard did you hit your head?”

“Not hard enough. I can still hear you.”

“I said, what are you going to do about the situation?”

“Umm…” I glanced at my objectives again. “I don’t suppose you know where we can get this map?”

“No.”

“Okay. So I guess I’m going to talk to people and do some exploring.”

Once I’d collected myself, which is to say, once the room stopped spinning and I stopped feeling like puking at the sight of conjured light, we set out. It was still nighttime, but Garrett said this would be the best time to go.

The kind of people we’d be looking for would be out and about. The people with something to hide.

We split up, which I didn’t like very much. I’d only been here half a day, and the glimpse I’d had of the sector had been in daylight. I didn’t want to get lost on my first night.

Still, Garrett said I’d find my way easily enough. “It’s a circle. Not even you can screw that up. But if all else fails, wait until morning, and find the Hall of Holy Relics. You can reorient yourself from there.”

He had a slew of instructions for me as we parted, so many that I was eventually glad to split up after all. Just so I could get away from the nagging.

“Stay away from the hunters. They’re out this time of night. Technically you’re not breaking laws by being out, but those guys don’t need reasons to rough you up.

“Stay away from anything that isn’t a person that moves or talks. It’s some kind of demon, and they’re bad news.

“Be careful who you trust. Some of these souls will turn you in for a few hours off their sentence.

“And for the gods’ sakes, keep your sticky fingers to yourself, no matter what you see out there. You turn the other souls against you, you are good and truly done for.”

He was still talking as I ducked into a shadowy alley, and he was probably still talking three blocks later.

I, however, kept walking until I was blessedly out of earshot. Only then did I stop to take stock of my surroundings.

They looked almost exactly like my surroundings of a few minutes ago: old, crappy buildings, slapped together with whatever had been laying around. Some of the construction looked so gravity-defying, I was impressed they were still standing.

Impressed, but not stupid enough to walk under it all the same.

Winding my way through side paths and back alleys and ash-covered lanes, I suppose I must have covered a decent amount of ground. But I met very few people.

There was an old man sobbing to himself in a gutter, rocking back and forth and wailing about hunger and his aching feet. I thought it best not to disturb him. He had plenty on his mind already.

Next I came across a woman of indeterminate age. She might have been in her twenties or her forties, but a hard life had left it impossible to say. She sized me up as a newcomer in about two seconds. “Poor lamb,” she cooed, stepping forward. “New here are you?”

I eyed her warily. I’d seen plenty of women like this in the Realm. They were either selling something – as often as not, themselves – or trying to pick your pocket. Sometimes, both at once.

Still, I needed information, and maybe she provide it. “That’s right.”

“You can write though, can’t you love? You know…” She traced hieroglyphs through the air. “Put letters to paper?”

“Yes.”

She grinned, a predatory smile. “You can write me a recommendation?”

“What?”

“You know…to get out of here sooner.”

“Oh. Uh…” This hadn’t been what I’d expected. Not at all. “Can we do that?”

“You know about quests, don’t you, love?”

“Yes. A little.”

“So you give me a quest. I do whatever it is you need.” She stepped closer. “And when you’re satisfied, you write me the letter. What do you say?”

“Okay,” I said. “There is actually something you can do for me.”

She wrapped an arm around my waist, cooing, “Name it.”

“I need some information.”

She blinked. “Information?”

“There’s a rumor I’ve heard, about a grotto.”

She took a quick step back, hissing sharply. “You’re a hunter.”

“No. No, I’m not. I just – I’m in trouble with a goddess, and I need to talk to her. That’s all.”

She eyed me dubiously for a long time, but at least she didn’t run away. “What kind of trouble.”

I thought about lying, but figured I better not. This woman was already scared. Nor would the truth scare her off. My profession was just as illegal as hers. “I stole something from her. While I was alive.”

The woman’s eyes widened, and then she cackled. “A goddess? An ambitious little thief, aren’t you, love? Well, well. We do get all kinds here, don’t we? I’ll tell you what. I don’t know where it is, this grotto, but if I knew someone who did and I told you where to find him, would you write me that letter? Your word on it?”

I agreed that I would, and she nodded.

“Right. There’s an old man called Williamson. Nasty old codger, but pious as you never did see. Monk or something or other in life. Not a monk no more, I can tell you.” She cackled at that, and I shivered. “But if anyone knows how to find the Grotto, it’s him.”

“Okay. Where do I find this Williamson?”

“Usually, this time of night, he’s sleeping. But he works with Archimedes. Some sort of test subject, or whatever they call it. Slugs potions all day long, and you never quite know what state you’re going to find him in. Whether he’s got the shakes or the rattles or he’s throwing up his guts. And when he’s like that, he’s in no mood to talk.”

“Can’t say that I blame him,” I admitted.

“Point is, you want to catch him in a good mood – leastwise, the thing most resembling a good mood – catch him before he goes in for his job. He’ll be sour on account of anticipation, but he won’t chase you off.”

“Do you know where he lives?”

“Nowhere and everywhere. He doesn’t get along with anyone, and no one gets along with him. He don’t last too long anywhere, so your guess is as good as mine where he is now. But he never misses work. So if you want to waylay him, I suggest you wait for him by the Alchemerium.”

I vaguely remembered the location of the Alchemerium – assuming the Alchemerium was where Archimedes worked – from Kharon’s tutorial, but I figured if I had trouble finding it, I could always ask the AI.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Don’t you be forgetting my recommendation,” she said, grabbing onto my arm.

“I haven’t,” I said. “But I do need pen and paper.”

“You’re the quest giver,” she said, a note of reproach in her tone. “You shouldn’t be handing out quests if you’re not ready. But you are new, so I guess I can give you a pass.”

“Thanks,” I said.

She grinned again and produced a sheet of paper and a quill. “An enchanted quill. No ink pot needed. Scribes. I tell you. The imaginations they have. You don’t want to know the things I had to do to get this.”

She was right about that. Now that she said it, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to touch the thing. I hesitated, hand hovering over the quill. “Say I wanted my own supplies. Where would I go to shop? And with what? Kharon told me there’s no currency here.”

“Well, there’s currency, and then there’s currency, isn’t there? It depends what you’re willing to do for it.”

“Let’s assume it’s not whatever you did. What are my other options?”

She snorted. “As if anyone would pay for you anyway.”

I’d been on the receiving end of my fair share of insults, but that might have been the weirdest yet. “So, what are my options?”

“Depends on who you get it from. Any one of the bureaucrats in charge of the sector will have paper and quill and ink. Now.” She pressed the quill into my hand. “Make your marks, love. I’ve got business to conduct.”