Chapter 73: Trapped in a Bowl

A few minutes later, I left the tent alone. The air of defeat about the camp was unmistakable this time around, and few of the candidates were willing to meet my gaze. I strode down the central avenue of the crater. All the merchants were still present. I spotted Hamish’s wagon too, but didn’t see the merchant himself.

As I reached the crater’s exit, I saw what Morin meant. Lounging at the top of the ramp, and just outside the boundary of the safe zone were twelve fully clad and heavily armed gang members.

Saben and Sigmar were with them. The gang leader was in all his old gear including the shortsword I had taken from him—although his shirt appeared new. Sigmar’s equipment was entirely different. His ill-fitting goblin hide armor was gone, replaced instead by sleek midnight-black leather armor and an ebony longsword.

It was an embarrassment of riches, and gazing up at them from the bottom of the ramp, clad only in my white shorts and shirt, I couldn’t help but feel intimidated.

One of the gang members spotted me, and called out a warning. Saben and Sigmar turned my way. A slow smile curved upwards on the gang leader’s face. “Well, look who has come calling,” he said. “And dressed so lovely too,” he added with a chuckle.

I remained tightlipped. Despite his death at my hands, Saben’s arrogance had not dissipated. If anything, his confidence had grown. My gaze slid to Sigmar. The inquisitor was staring at me with loathing. His hand was tightly wrapped around the hilt of his sword and he seemed poised to launch himself at me.

Saben noticed his companion’s tense demeanor too. “Easy Sigmar,” he murmured.

“You’re a dead man,” the inquisitor growled.

“Well, technically not anymore,” I quipped.

Sigmar didn’t get the joke. His chest heaving, the inquisitor glared back at me. “I will kill you slowly,” he declared. “I will roast you alive over warm coals and feed you to the undead.”

I stroked my chin. Sigmar seemed to be feeling more than the simple anger I expected. I had no idea what was driving the especial hatred he directed towards me, but I could use it. “Really?” I asked, arching one eyebrow. “How’d that go for you the first time? If I recall, Decalthiya made short work of you.”

Color flushed the inquisitor’s face, and he looked ready to explode.

I pretended to think. “By my account you have only one life remaining. I’d say that in any contest between us that puts the odds in my favor.” I stared unblinkingly into Sigmar’s eyes. “Your betrayal will not go unpunished.”

The inquisitor quivered. Jerking forward, he took one step into the safe zone with his sword halfway unsheathed. But before he could go any further, Saben’s hand shot out and restrained him. Sigmar’s head whipped around to scowl at the gang leader, but he let himself be pulled back.

Ah well, I thought in disappointment. It had been worth a try at least.

“As delightful as I find your threats, they are toothless,” Saben said. He gestured languidly to the crater. “You are trapped in this bowl and will not get out without our permission.”

Keeping my expression impassive, I folded my arms and played my next card. “You will oppose Stayne’s wishes? He is my patron now.” I was stretching the truth, but hoped they didn’t know better.

Saben grinned. “Technically, you aren’t, not yet anyway. And besides, I don’t serve the Master, and I have no obligation to his dog.” He drummed his fingers along the side of his face theatrically. “But seeing as Ishita and the Master are allied, I could be persuaded to let you make your pledge to the Master. If you are ready, please—” he bowed mockingly—“step up the ramp and I will summon Stayne to take your oath.”

When I made no move to comply, he laughed. “I thought not.”

“Why did you two do it?” I asked abruptly.

Sigmar ignored my question entirely, and Saben only looked confused. “Do what?” the gang leader asked.

“Set such an elaborate trap in the first place,” I said. “You had enough forewarning to assemble your entire gang in the camp and crush us there when we attacked. It would have been simpler and less risky.”

“Ah,” Saben said. “That’s no mystery. Morin is too wily by far. She would have withdrawn if she saw that we were ready for her.” He shook his head sadly. “Besides, I was growing bored and desired an end to our little siege.”

I gaped at him. “So instead, you sacrificed the greater part of your followers to draw her out?”

The gang leader waved his hand dismissively. “It was no great loss, truly. Besides, it was an excellent opportunity to weed out the disloyal.”

Saben’s callousness left me speechless and for a moment, I could only stare at him. “What about Bornholm,” I asked eventually. “Where is he?”

At the mention of his former companion’s name, Sigmar finally stirred. “Bornholm is no concern of yours,” he sneered.

Wordlessly, I studied the inquisitor’s face. Then I swung about and walked away. I had learned what I had come for.

~~~

I checked the crater’s second exit next. But like the first one, it was guarded by twelve gang members. My observations only confirmed what Tantor and Morin had told me. Attempting to leave the safe zone by way of either ramp was a death sentence.

Which left only the crater walls.

Ignoring the hoots and jeers of the gang members as I retreated from the second ramp, I tread a slow circuit around the crater’s base. Its sides were six yards of sheer vertical rockface. What few cracks and seams existed were too far apart to serve as handholds.

Still, there was no other way out that I could see, and I would have to attempt the climb. But before I did that, I needed to pay Hamish a visit.

The dark elf’s wagon was boarded up, and it looked like he was preparing to depart. Banging on the sides, I called out, “Hamish, you in there?”

A head popped out from a window and grey eyes peered at me. “Michael, is that you?”

I walked around so that he could see me clearly.

“Ah it is,” the grey merchant said softly. “So they got you too?”

I nodded.

“One second,” he replied. The merchant ducked back inside and a moment later climbed out the wagon’s rear to stand next to me.

“You’re leaving?” I asked.

“I have no choice,” Hamish said. “For a while there business picked up—” he shot me a grateful look—“all thanks to you, but with what’s happened now, it is sure to dry up again.” He sighed. “I’ve wasted enough money on this venture and time is money. I can’t afford to remain here any longer.”

“Oh,” I said, disappointed.

“I’m sorry, Michael,” the elf replied. He paused. “Did you need something?”

“I do,” I said. “Information and a favor.”

Hamish’s face turned solemn. Straightening the front of his suit, the merchant folded his arms in front of him. “I can’t promise anything,” he said, almost gently, “but I’ll hear you out.”

“Thank you,” I said gratefully. Much depended on his willingness to help me, and I hoped that I had established enough goodwill with Hamish for him to extend me a measure of trust—and credit. “Information first then: what can you tell me about Class points?”

“Ah, an easy enough question to answer,” the merchant replied, seemingly relieved by the simple nature of my query. “Players are awarded Class points at every second player rank and use them to upgrade their Classes. Each Class point can be used to upgrade a single Class by one rank.”

I nodded. So I would gain more Class points in future as well. “What does upgrading entail?”

“As you no doubt already know, each Class comes with a base trait. When you upgrade a Class, it’s base trait will be improved as well. The Game will also give you the opportunity to select an additional trait or Class ability.” Hamish shrugged. “It is impossible to know beforehand what traits or abilities the Adjudicator will offer you during the upgrade, only that they will be suited to your Class and work to enhance your Class features.”

“I see,” I said, wondering which of my two Classes I should spend my Class point on. Given my current predicament, and the fact that my best skills were dexterity-based, it likely made more sense to upgrade my nightstalker Class.

Seeing my frown, Hamish said, “If I may offer a bit of advice?”

“Go ahead,” I said.

The merchant shifted slightly. “I don’t know what Classes you possess currently, but I am guessing at this stage, none of them have melded?”

“They haven’t,” I admitted.

“In that case, I suggest you wait before spending your Class point,” Hamish said.

I was taken aback. “Wait, why?”

“You know about blended Classes?”

I nodded.

“Well, the most obvious benefit of a blended Class is that its base trait is a combination of its constituents. When you upgrade a blended Class it is the combined trait that improves, providing you with further benefits. Not to mention that the choices the Adjudicator offers when advancing blended Classes are invariably better than those for single Classes.”

“Hmm,” I mused. The base trait of my nightstalker Class was wolven, and that of my psionic Class was metamind. If the two traits combined together… then the benefits of waiting to spend my Class point were obvious. And that was discounting the additional benefits a tri-blend Class would bring.

All this hinged on the assumption that my Classes would meld though, and I was unhappily aware that I would need every advantage I could manage in the upcoming fight. But I still have two lives remaining. I could afford to take a calculated risk on my next attempt against the gang. If I died again, then I would use my Class point.

“Thank you, Hamish. I see the sense in what you suggest.” I breathed in deeply. “Now for the favor.”

The grey merchant bobbed his head gravelly and gestured for me to go on.

“I was hoping you would extend me a line of credit,” I began. Seeing Hamish’s brows draw down in an unhappy frown, I finished in a rush. “Not a lot, only enough for one item.”

The merchant opened his mouth. Paused, then closed it again. “One item?” he asked.

I bobbed my head.

“Which one?” he asked tersely.

“The one-step spellbook.”

Hamish’s frown deepened. “A spellbook?” he muttered. “I thought you were going to ask for something foolish like a sword.” He eyed me sideways. “What are you going to do with the spellbook?”

“Escape the safe zone unnoticed.”

Hamish’s eyes flitted from me to the distant crater walls. He rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. “I see.”

“If I make it out, I will return to repay you, of course,” I promised.

“And if you don’t make it out?”

“Then you will have lost five gold,” I admitted.

The merchant studied me intently, weighing the risk no doubt. “Your request is an unusual one,” he said at last, “and ordinarily not one I would entertain.” Hamish sighed. “But I like you, Michael, and I can’t say that about many people. I will accede to your request—on one condition.”

“What’s that?” I asked, bracing myself.

“Any further trading you do in this sector, you do through me.”

I grinned. Hamish’s terms were not nearly as onerous enough as I’d feared. “We have a deal, my friend.”