The City and the Dungeon Page 9

  "Um, um, you're welcome, sir," I mumbled.

  "Very good work," he said. He made a deliberate, thoughtful pause. I would have protested that a 12% revive with complications was terrible work, but he continued first. "Normally liegemanship in our house is a coveted position. However, I already have good reason to trust you all, which is far more important than levels. Would you be interested in becoming liegemen?"

  WHAT?

  "We, well, um, need to talk about this," I said.

  * * *

  The storage room—I think that's what it was from all the barrels and crates—was small and musty. It smelled of old rotted herbs or just some of the nasty ones, which invariably are the more potent.

  "Just FYI," Elise said, perched on a barrel. "I'm sure this room is bugged."

  "Regardless," I said. "It at least pretends to be private. Guys?"

  "I think it's a great offer," Sampson said. "I've looked at what most Houses require of their liegemen before. We'd be years before we could even meet a House's requirements, let alone a High House's. And that's if we were lucky."

  "Same thought," Xavier said. "And that's just for the application. Whereas, he was flat-out offering us the position."

  "Elise?" I asked.

  "It's a High House," she said. "The Blacks are... said to be one of the fairest, but they're still a High House with all that entails."

  "So, intrigue?" Sampson asked hopefully.

  "We're already knee deep," she said. When we didn't react enough for her, she rolled her eyes and continued. "You can't imagine this was a normal retrieval quest for a lost heartstone. Somehow, a green slayer party that was roving the 3rd Floor captured a violet High House family member, who subsequently wipes them without the tiniest difficulty immediately after—I'm sorry, Alex—a botched Revive. And we're expected to believe this is all on the up-and-up?"

  "You're right," I said.

  "Meanwhile," Elise continued. "Despite knowledge that a family member is lost in the Dungeon, an entire High House does nothing except quietly post a large anonymous bounty. Seriously? Let me tell you what I think. I think there's something really fishy going on, and they're trying to shut us all up with this offer."

  "It's still a good offer," Sampson said.

  "Isn't that more reason to sign up?" Xavier asked. "Whoever captured Alice in the first place isn't going to be happy about us. Wouldn't be surprised if we just happen to 'disappear' one delve, unless there's a High House looking out for us."

  "Or it could be the High House itself that did this," Elise suggested.

  "That literally makes no sense whatsoever," Xavier said.

  "Let's vote," I said. "I'm not going to force anyone to follow me, but I'm in favor."

  "Same," Sampson said.

  "For the reason I suggested, I'm in favor," Xavier said.

  Elise muttered to herself. "I don't think we have much choice. I'll take it. Andy?"

  Andy didn't speak but, grabbing onto Elise, whispered in her ear.

  "She's staying with me," Elise said.

  "Mical?" I asked.

  "No," she said firmly.

  "What?" Sampson asked.

  "No. I went into the Dungeon to start my herb cafe. I can start it off my share of the bounty. If they'll consider it, I'll ask for a loan. I don't want to get involved in intrigue. I don't want to be a foot soldier in some battle between Houses. I don't even want to delve ever again, if it means another ambush by slayers."

  "That's fine," I said with no small disappointment. "No pressure. Thanks for being our Herbalist."

  "Yeah, thanks," Sampson said. The others agreed; even Andy spoke up.

  * * *

  "We've made our decision," I told the High House leader. "All of us, except Mical, would like to accept."

  Seth Black did not seem surprised. Had they been listening in? "Is there something you would like instead?" he asked Mical.

  "I would like, if you would please, a business loan," Mical answered.

  "We don't give loans to any business whose owner does not have Business Management 6 or higher," Seth Black said.

  "That's fine," Mical said with remarkably little disappointment.

  "That doesn't mean we wouldn't loan to you, it's just that we'll require you to purchase a skillstone as part of the principal."

  Mical hesitated.

  "I can understand if it feels unfair," Seth Black said. "All the work one would normally spend to gain the skill naturally would appear completely obviated by eating one small stone. But it's not that the skillstone magically controls your business or makes every decision perfect. It simply gives the advantage of wisdom immediately, as opposed to after many, many mistakes."

  "You ever used one?" Sampson asked.

  "Oh, yes. Master level, in fact. It's not a magical solution to every business problem, insomuch, as it actually is magical. But it is a vast advantage in an incredibly harsh world. It would be like entering the Dungeon but refusing the advantage of any shop or the Auction House."

  "Do they come in different varieties according to business strategy?" Mical asked.

  "It seems to give you the ability to run your business as you desire. I found myself far more conservative after using my stone while a friend of mine became more aggressive. But comparing notes, both of us discovered it was the way we actually wanted to run our businesses."

  I saw her lips purse as she considered it. "I'll want to hear more details about the loan," Mical said.

  "You'd be best talking to... Isaac? Perfect timing."

  A young man with a black eye-patch had walked in. Aside from his hair being gray-brown rather than blond, he clearly resembled the rest of the family. Dungeon-worn, definitely. Do I even need to say what material his “leather” was made of? "What's up, Unc?" he asked.

  "Could you talk to this young lady about a business loan?"

  He raised the eyebrow of his working eye. "Sure?" He stretched out his hand to Mical. "Isaac Black, 100th Rogue King. I'm the House treasurer."

  "Mical Parsimony," Mical said, and they walked down a corridor. I felt an urge to call her to stop, to reconsider—but no. She had made her decision. We were separate now.

  "Now, the rest of you," Seth Black said. "Down that hallway, first door on the left. Tell Anthony I'm lifting the requirements for you, and if he complains, tell him I'm telling him to shut up."

  * * *

  Anthony de Gaul, 70th Black Baron and head of the High House's liegemen, was a short older man with more scowl than scars. Of the latter he had many—which, considering that scar removal is a simple spell, was deliberate. He listened to us with no small skepticism but didn't argue either.

  "You'll be the youngest ever," he said. "In Experience, at least."

  "It's a special circumstance, sir," I said.

  "That's what they always tell me," he said. He took five thin sheaves of paper from his desk. "House contract. No negotiation. Sign it or not. I'm not going to argue with you about it."

  Xavier took one and flipped through. "It's not that long."

  "It isn't," Anthony agreed. "But you better read every word because you're not getting out of it once you've joined us. Take your time. I'll take my nap." And so he did, leaning back and closing his eyes. Or at least he pretended to for rhetorical effect. If so, it was successful.

  I read mine quickly despite what he had just said. Xavier had a point about our safety. I thought 12% of gross crystal from delves and 5% from item sales was a bit much, but it was a High House. And, well, I found I liked the Black family already. Maybe I would change my mind soon enough after joining the House, but I had a feeling I wouldn't.

  I was the first to sign.

  The moment Elise, the last of us to sign, did so, Anthony woke up—or at least pretended to. "Good," he said. "Not one of you tried to argue about the House cut. I am so sincerely glad I did not have to have that futile argument with you.

  "There are a few things that aren't written in there, and you better listen.<
br />
  "Courtesy. Aside from Seth Black, they don't like being called 'sir' and 'ma'am'. What they don't want either is being addressed like some casual acquaintance. Say 'Adam Black' or 'Alice Black.' Don't call them by anything else. Don't even think of them as anything else." He paused. "If you've been here for decades, and maybe if you are one of their closest friends, this might change. But be careful. I've seen someone get expelled for this."

  "Seriously?" Sampson asked.

  "It was a bunch of times. Well, a bunch of times, and the guy was hitting on Alice Black which should go without saying as a Thing to Never Do. Or hitting on Adrianne Black for that matter, but she'd probably disintegrate you personally."

  "I'd like to know about the classtones," Elise said.

  "It's either free or off-limits," he said. "Anything up to Tier Two, just ask Alfred to let you in the vault. Tier One—you'll need direct permission from a Black, and you'll have to have been here a while. Don't even think about the Angelstone."

  "What's the Angelstone?" I asked.

  Elise cringed.

  Anthony glowered. "Are you seriously—how can you not know—"

  "Sorry," Elise said. "This kind of happened unexpectedly. We're basically lucky red delvers. Well, orange, now."

  Anthony shrugged. "The Angelstone is a... basically, it's nine Tier One, maybe Tier Zero, classtones merged into one. I've never seen it—well, once. But it's exclusively for the Black family. You'll have a better chance getting them to adopt you than to give you access, and adoption is about what it would take. Moving on...

  "You're under our requirements, and I expect the very first thing out of you is to get those requirements met. And we're not going to help you do something which you're supposed to already have done. You in the white? Get Legal 3, and then Tactics 3, or better yet, 4. Make that your top priority."

  "Yes, sir," I said.

  "Call me Anthony. I'm too old for all these kids and their 'sir-ring' and 'ma'am-ming.'"

  "Yes, um, Anthony," I said.

  "One last thing," Anthony said. "One very important thing."

  "Yes?" I asked.

  "Talk to George, the librarian, immediately. He's the, oh, seventh person you better never tick off. I'm sixth, of course."

  "We'll do that," I said. "I mean, talk to him."

  "Good. Now let's get going."

  * * *

  The Housestone was similar to the Cornerstone—smaller, less bright, and orange. But it felt the same in its nobility, like a baron to a king. A bunch of liegemen around the walls watched us with interest, while a handful played Prism Poker. Apparently, they were much more relaxed about guarding it than other such stones. Of course, they hardly had that many who needed access to it, I supposed.

  "Right now, you can repudiate the contract, change your mind, leave," Anthony said. "We don't fight that kind of thing in Court. But once you've pressed that stone, you're stuck with us. Got that?"

  "Sure thing," Sampson said, walked over and pressed his hand against the Housestone. The stone flared then dimmed, and Sampson withdrew his hand. "Hello, everyone!" he called to the other liegemen who casually waved back.

  "I suppose I've already agreed," Xavier said, and he did the same. "Funny, I thought it would feel strange. More... like joining a party, honestly."

  Andy walked up, pushed her hand against it, and then walked back.

  I decided to be next, and went to it. Xavier was right; it did feel like joining a party—a huge, strong party, but nothing more. Not like the Cornerstone at all. I thought about it more, and I perceived I now had a ton of small buffs—particularly resistance to dark and a corresponding bonus to dark spells.

  Elise hesitated.

  "Elise?" I asked.

  "Just..." She trailed off. I saw her mouth form a few silent words. Then she twisted as if to leave. Then she stopped, closed her eyes, and slowly pressed her hand against it.

  "Welcome aboard," Anthony said. "Now go do your own thing. I need my sleep."

  * * *

  There's a term for when a delver consumes stat-gain potions that he doesn't need and ends up looking a little strange: stat abuse. Unless George had been a Monk or a Thug Lord, he probably didn't need the massive muscles that made him almost comical appearance. Not that I or anyone else would say that to his rock-solid face. Actually, he may be some kind of physical fighter, considering he had to have some value to the House before he became the librarian.

  At the moment he stood most imposingly at his desk. All around, liegemen were quietly reading or browsing through the many shelves. The many, many shelves. I wanted to go immediately, which is why I missed most of George's spiel on the rules for doing that.

  "You will note that there is a gate in the eastern wing that is completely black and covered with warnings. You will not enter. That is both an imperative and a definitive declarative. If you were somehow to damage the gate beyond its soak and regeneration, or by some miracle Charm of Opening it, you would trigger one of the inside wards. You would subsequently die instantly, be expelled afterwards, and in the meantime disturb the other patrons. Please be courteous."

  "What's behind?" Sampson asked.

  "Quite a number of texts that are either too valuable to allow access to random liegemen or things the Black family has decided are too dangerous for public knowledge. As you will never enter, it will be of no concern for you."

  "Everything else is fair game?" Xavier asked.

  "That's correct."

  "Got the Grey Book?"

  "Every volume," George said. "By the way, if you're insane, we can sign you up for the loot counting program. Help with the statistics."

  "Help maps," Andy said.

  "We have a complete set of recent maps for the upper Floors."

  "She means if we make a map for somewhere that isn't in here," I said. "Right?" Andy hesitantly nodded; Elise looked at me with bafflement that I had interpreted her friend without help.

  "Eh, you won't. We've got professionals with V- or N-Type Magic Mapping. But if you do, somehow, bring it to me. Actually..." He trailed off for a moment. "If you ever see a Unique or a new monster, write down your experiences for me. We don't have too many of those."

  "New monsters?" I asked.

  "It's an entirely academic point whether new monsters are simply ones that always existed but were never seen, or if the Dungeon actually created a new species. If you so desire, there are two books on the subject in the northeastern wing, philosophy section."

  "How big is this place?" I asked.

  "Big enough I've been asked several times if this is in a DA bubble. It isn't. We just go deep into the spire, that's all."

  Oh. That's right. The High House owned a spire, or at least the top of it. We owned a spire, or at least the top of it.

  "Now, when you want to check out a book, be absolutely sure..."

  * * *

  Mical met us in the hallway, carrying several Bags of Holding. "Wait," she said. "We need to split. One last time."

  "Right," I said. "Um, I don't know if we should give the House a cut or not."

  "Legally, you don't," Mical said. "It was a previous contract. Also, they don't care. When they'll loan an almost-complete stranger... A lot."

  "Unless they passed out Blues, it's nothing to them," Xavier said.

  "The details are confidential, but I'd like to point out that nothing in here is of value to a violet, either," Mical said, tapping a bag. "I saw a division room back there. Shall we?"

  Our last division took longer than most, if for no other reason than there was much to divide. The slayers were well-equipped—oddly, little of it was soulbound—and they had brought their own Bags of Holding. Even after (according to Mical) all personal gear from Lawful victims had been already removed from them, it took time to empty each. But there was another reason: we didn't really want to divide, personally.

  "Sheesh," I said as I held a helmet. "No wonder Andy's pick broke. Look at the Protection on this thing."
<
br />   Sampson took a sword and swung it. "I have no idea how I feel about using a sword that killed me."

  "Would you rather it be sold, and someone else use it?" I asked.

  "True. Maybe I'll just stick it in the Bank."

  Eventually, no matter what we bantered or delayed, we came to the last items. They didn't last long enough. We sat and looked at each other, only one step remaining before we broke up.

  "Man," Mical said, looking at her pile. "You guys are generous. I don't know if I feel good about—"