image [https://i.imgur.com/ZCiY65Z.jpg]
Even by Arlington standards, Two Towers impressed me as a well-manicured district.
We passed Arlington’s famous observatory and orrery. Its broad, conical, revolving roof reminded me of my bicycle’s tumbler lock. Gold and polished brass symbols covered each tumbler. Astromancers worked in the observatory, and I wondered about my chances of meeting them.
Lloyd caught my interest in the building. “We’ll not be allowed in there, Cap’n. We’ll be needing a tidal chart to explore the Underworks—but we won’t need more than a few days. The orrery is for long predictions, for maritime travelers.”
We got out of the gondola. The current picked up between districts like an amusement park log ride without the splashdowns. To avoid keeping track of an unpredictable griffon, I dismissed my pet when we reached our destination.
The first item on the agenda in the noble district included finding a postbox, and we found one with little trouble. Fabulosa and I still had letters addressed to us.
Fabulosa turned to me. “Maybe we’ll read your letter first before I retrieve mine.”
“Why so?”
“If we’re pretending to be in Arlington, we might as well pretend to be separated.”
Opening letters in different towns sent mixed messages. I liked her idea.
Fabulosa explained her idea. “Maybe Winterbyte won’t be prepared to face us both. Maybe she’ll even split her forces.”
Although it posed a risk of missing information, opening the letters in different locations made sense. In either case, I wanted to look at mine now. The mailbox made a soft chime when I retrieved the letter.
From Winterbyte, sent 12 days ago in Darton Rock Postal Box #1
To Apache, received 0 days ago in Arlington Postal Box #23
Subject One Less Liar
I knocked out your friend because you didn’t reason with me. It’s a shame players are as unreliable as NPCs. I’ve got an old score to settle after taking care of you and retrieving my prize.
As I suspected, you lied about taking the relic. I went back to the dungeon, and I saw you moved Pooti’s corpse—which was next to the sarcophagus. If you figured out how to reach him, you must have taken it. That makes you liars.
When someone camps a rare spawn, it’s a common courtesy to let them have it. I’ve quested eight months for the relic, and I’m tired of being double-crossed. The only fair and sensible thing would be to hand it over. I hired some Grayton muscle, and we’re coming to the Highwalls to find you. Ruk told me he smelled kobolds on you, and if we can’t find you, we’ll squeeze the kobolds until they give up your location.
If you don’t surrender the relic now, you’ll be sorry. The time for being reasonable is over.
See you soon,
Winterbyte
The Harder I Plays, the Luckier I Gets!
Fabulosa studied my expression. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. There’s nothing in there we don’t know already. And we reckoned right that she sent it from Darton Rock.”
I handed Fabulosa the letter and slumped against the mailbox. I recognized the last line. This came from the girl I met at breakfast before the keynote speech. Shelly was her name, and she studied programming in Wisconsin. Winterbyte was Shelly.
“I know her—Winterbyte. She’s someone I met at the hotel. We had juice and Jell-O for breakfast before the game started. I had hoped she was Charitybelle, but we never exchanged names.”
Fabulosa stood back, hands on her hips. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it.
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“Her name was Shelly. She seemed so nice, but….”
“How do you figure it’s her?”
“The signature. She told me her email signature before we jumped into the game.”
“Does this change anything?” Fabulosa’s brow creased at the idea of me going soft.
I closed my slacked jaw. “No. Winterbyte is kill-on-sight. Nothing has changed. It’s just that—this means Charitybelle is someone else, someone I haven’t met.”
Fabulosa nodded curtly. “K.O.S. is right. Winter has a saber-load of Texas hissy coming her way. We’re fixing this for C-Belle, right?”
I grunted in agreement. My memory of the cute Wisconsin programmer talking about her favorite game characters didn’t resonate anymore. Fabulosa wasn’t wrong in that she deserved payback. I nodded and gave Fabulosa a long, hard stare to show my resolve.
Fabulosa shrugged. “No sense in opening my letter here. It’s better to play as if we’re in separate locations. I’ll open mine in Basilborough or Belden. Maybe it’ll spin her around.”
“She’s getting help from Grayton, not the gnoll homeland. That’s interesting. I wonder if she burned her bridges with the gnolls and has to farm out help from the thugs in Grayton.”
Fabulosa chewed her lip in thought. “She mentioned settling an old score. Do you think that’s with another gamer?”
I shrugged. “Possibly. The gnolls who double-crossed her in the dungeon are both dead. Even if help is coming from Grayton, she mailed this a dozen days ago. It means we’re on the clock. It’ll take time for Winterbyte to meet up with Ruk’s ruffians. Opening the letter in Arlington was a good call, and it’ll buy us time while she comes down here.”
Fletcher stroked his chin. “She’ll get an immediate update. And she’ll be able to catch a downstream flatboat at this time of day.”
Fabulosa turned to me. “Do you think we should just wait for her here? We get Aggression’s damage multiplier since we’re in another settlement.”
“Maybe. But there’s a chance she’ll pick up our scent in Basilborough, which might lead them to Hawkhurst.”
Fletcher mulled over the factors and stared into space. “Iris and her people can handle a few gnolls. What level were they?”
“Teens.”
“They’ll hold ‘em off.” Fletcher didn’t look as confident as he sounded.
“It’s Winterbyte’s magic that worries me. She studied programming in real life. And we already know she can write runes. With time, she could probably make something nasty.”
Fabulosa looked at me. “And if she doesn’t pick up our scent and is searching for Hawkhurst in the Highwall Mountains, she’ll stir up the kobolds. They’re afraid of gnolls, but they’re territorial. We found that much out. She’ll find trouble there. While that’s an amusing picture, she’ll cause some problems for home.”
“She’s smart. She’ll figure something out. Either way, we’re definitely on the clock.” I needed to find items that would give me enough mana to create a rune strong enough to destroy this cursed relic. Even if we killed Winterbyte, who could guess how many players and NPCs knew about it by now?
Fabulosa admired Arlington’s busy street scene. “Am I right in thinking we need to pare down our schedule? No relaxing, no sightseeing?”
Fletcher exhaled. “Oh, bother! I had rather hoped to catch a play. We do need to introduce Apache to the finer things.”
Fabulosa clapped his shoulder. “If by ‘finer things,’ you’re talking about the sewers, then I reckon we’ll get loads. We have time to explore the Underworks, at least.”
Lloyd squinted. “The Underworks and the gutter-holes are two different systems.”
Fabulosa put her hands up defensively to show no offense.
Lloyd continued. “Besides, until I secure a tide table, we’ll not know if the Underworks will be dry.”
Fabulosa slapped my chest. “That sounds good. Why don’t y’all go shopping and get what you need. We’ll get Lloyd’s tidal chart thingy.”
I nodded, and she looked to Lloyd for confirmation.
Lloyd winked. “Don’t ye worry, Cap’n. I know a guy.”
I turned to the dwarves. “Sorry, guys. It doesn’t look like a pub is in our horoscope.”
Blane waved his hand. “Ah, gawan. I’ve been to pubs afore. If’n it protects the town, we’ll go without.”
Bernard agreed. “I’d rather hammer meself than others, but it makes sense to keep our metal hot if someone’s coming to Hawkhurst.”
Fabulosa turned to Lloyd. “Fair enough. Patch and Fletch will meet us inside the pipe after they’re finished shopping.” She turned to me with a wink. “Just don’t spend everything on fancy clothes.”
I laughed as I watched the four return to the Underworks. “Don’t go in too far without me!”
Fabulosa replied over her shoulder as they left. “I’m sorry, Patch, I didn’t catch that last bit. The street is too loud!”
I smiled. Fabulosa would delve into the dungeon as far as she could, putting Fletcher and I very much on the clock.
As I turned to ask for directions to a magic shop, I silently cursed Winterbyte. I couldn’t get over the girl I’d suspected to be Charitybelle turned out to be the one who killed her. And now, the prim, pleasant, demure player from Wisconsin not only threatened Hawkhurst but ruined our vacation. I’d have no chance to see Arlington’s famous orrery or visit its library. No hobnobbing with other wizards or possibly arranging for magical hirelings.
The street level of Arlington’s noble district teemed with guards. Fletcher and I asked for directions to the biggest magic shop and learned its name—the Westend Emporium. To reach it, we took the canals to the next district after asking again for directions.
We took another gondola to a canal terminal. It never occurred to me how the city kept the current flowing, so I assumed they used magic. It ended in a noisy whirlpool. Canal workers worked a gate to ensure no passengers went into the downspout. A worker helped us out of the gondola and pushed it toward the whirlpool. I watched it tip sideways, fill with water, and circle the whirlpool. It spiraled underwater before disappearing into a drain.
“Where do they go?”
“Submerged gondolas are neutrally buoyant. That’s why there’s heavy brass along the gunwales. An undertow pulls them into the Underworks and recycles them upstream. It cleans them as well.”
“Aren’t they wet when passengers sit down?”
“Ever-dry runes lay beneath the seating. Arlington has thought of everything.”