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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN


My sword went over the counter, on a nice little mounting stand, between two posters of upcoming tournaments and a plastic dragon’s head. The guy looked up at it gleefully.

“Gosh, thanks! That’s perfect!” he said. “Enjoy your room. Three hours! Heck, a fourth hour on the house. And feel free to punch a hole in the wall, if you want.”

“That’s not how I expected that to go,” I said sadly. Chesa patted me on the shoulder.

“Guys love swords. Let’s not fool ourselves,” she said. She pulled me away from the counter. I looked over my shoulder at my beloved blade.

“But I might need that,” I said glumly.

“We’ll get you a new one, sweetie,” she said, stroking the top of my head. “Now where is this room?”

“Back here.” Ida was already setting up terrain and the game-master screen. Greg dumped the dice in the middle of the table and started sorting through them. The rest of the team filed into the room. It was a tight fit with the six members of Knight Watch and the three Eccentrics, especially with Tesla in full electric-factory mode, and Gregory and I in armor. Adelaide stood just inside the door, arms folded across her chest.

“I still don’t understand what we’re doing here,” Addie said. “Some kind of game?”

Chesa led me to the head of the table and sat me down, then went to the opposite side and helped Ida go through the books. “I’ve learned to trust John’s plans. They usually sound stupid, but they get us where we need to go,” Chesa said. She looked up at me and smiled. “He hasn’t let us down yet.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Gregory muttered. There was a loud clanking sound under the table, and he looked sharply at Chesa. She made a face at him, and he shrugged. “But she’s right. He usually gets us there, wherever there is.”

“Sir John has an unusual way of doing things,” Tembo said. “It serves him well in the Unreal. It never would have occurred to me to ride Fenris to Valhalla, or drive a Volvo through a dragon.”

“What? He did that?” Addie asked incredulously. “And you still trust him?”

“It worked,” Matthew said as he settled into one of the folding chairs, then leaned back and put his boots up on the card table. “That’s all that matters.”

“In this case, we’re just trying to get into the Unreal, at least briefly.” I moved the screen around a bit, then set my helm on the table and folded my hands. “We’re going to use the game as a portal into Unreal. From there, one of you will need to create your own domain. That should let us reenter the Gestalt.”

“So who’s it going to be?” Greg asked, tumbling a handful of dice in his palm. “Addie?”

Adelaide thought for a long moment, then shook her head. “No, I think it needs to be Ida. She’s the one who’s going to put the scarab back together and get us a bead on the Lumieres. If any of us needs their power, it’s her.”

“I concur,” Tesla said. “My Gestalt presence is already invested in the Silverhawk. I don’t think I could create a new domain without corrupting that connection.”

“I’m fine with that,” Chesa said. Gregory nodded vigorously. Ida, however, hesitated.

“I’m not a fighter. Sure, I can find you Evelyn and her mother, but after that? You guys are going to be on your own.”

“We’ll figure that out when we get there,” I said. “Now. If everyone would please sit down, we can get started.”

“But . . . but . . . we don’t have characters yet, or stats, or backstories,” Greg said. “I’m thinking about playing a human paladin who—”

I raised my hand. “Rules bore me. This is a time for stories. So listen.

“You walk into a tavern. It’s mostly empty, except for a bored-looking ogre behind the bar, cleaning glasses in his overly large hands, as well as a shadowy figure in the corner. You’re tired, and hungry, and a little hungover from last night’s battle, so you sit down. You’re still waiting for the ogre to notice you when the figure in the corner rises.”

“I roll initiative,” Gregory said.

I hissed him to silence. The rest of the team crowded around the table, taking seats and shuffling papers. I ignored the distractions and leaned into the story.

“He comes over to you. It’s a tall, thin man, with hair like a bramble patch, and the smell to match. He’s wearing dirty old robes, and leans against a gnarled staff, without which he would probably topple over. When he gets to your table, he smiles, and you notice that he’s missing about half his teeth, and half of those that remain are gold or silver. His breath smells like rat piss . . .”

“That’s very specific,” Ida whispers.

“Hush. The old man holds out his hand. In it, is a bright, golden key.” I held out my hand, which sadly was empty. I changed my voice, doing my best swamp-hobo imitation. “You look like a group of healthy young adventurers. Could I interest you in . . . a particularly dangerous job? The treasures you’ll find will make it more than worth—”

“I’m not giving him a bath,” Chesa muttered. Ida laughed, while Addie looked at me like I had just sprouted wings.

“Okay, now I roll initiative,” Greg said, clattering dice forcefully in his hand.


It took about half an hour, but eventually the walls of the room where we were playing faded out of focus. The party was arguing about the best way to cross a bridge which, obviously, would have been just to walk across it, but they had come up with a highly detailed and overly complex plan to scale the sides of the bridge, using twenty staves they had stolen from a passing farmer, eighty feet of silken rope, gathered from their starting equipment, and a sail they had made from their cloaks. The wizened wizard lay dead in the ogre’s tavern, having been stabbed preemptively by Gregory. I had at least convinced them to search his body, which had given them enough information to start the journey to the necromancer’s tower. The adventure was afoot!

To my great joy, none of them had tried to seduce any inanimate objects, nor had they adopted a random nonplayer character I had made up on the spot, nor were they scheming to corner the market on boiled potatoes. Chesa was carrying around a duck that she had rescued from the village pond, but other than that, things were going pretty normal. Normal, at least, for a group of gamers. It was a banner day in my career as a game master. Unfortunately, I had to ruin it all with actual adventure.

“Look, all we need to do is get the rope to the other side of the bridge, then we can tie a flying bowline around that tree over there,” Gregory said. “Then we can walk across the rope bridge, thereby bypassing the obvious trap bridge that John has laid for us.”

“We can’t possibly get the rope that far,” Ida said. “Terminal velocity on loose rope is something like fifteen meters per second per second, unless we tie it to something.”

“Which is why we have the kite,” Greg answered. “Speaking of which, John, you still haven’t given me an answer on that wind direction question. Preferably with a map of prevailing winds, the relative humidity over the river, and—”

“Guys!” I said sharply. “Forget about the bridge for a second.”

“Oh, you’d like that! Forget about the obvious trap.” Greg folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. “This guy, trying to distract us from the ersatz bridge ploy. Ha!”

“Someone remind me why I play this game with you guys.” Chesa sat with her head in her hands. “If it wasn’t for this damned duck, I’d have left half an hour ago.”

“Speaking of the duck,” Ida said, perking up. “Does Malbert have any friends? Because I think I’d like a duck of my own. You know, if one is available.”

“Guys!” I repeated. “Stop. Talking. About the duck. Or the bridge.”

“Oh?” Greg sat forward, eager anticipation in his eyes. “Initiative?”

“No. Just . . .” I gestured away from the table. “Look around.”

The room had faded away, replaced by dense fog and grassy dells. Thin light leaked through the murk, directionless and dim. Strange birds sang stranger songs in the distance. Only the table remained, slowly sinking into the sod under the weight of too many rulebooks. Gregory stood up, startled.

“It worked! Rast, you bloody genius, you did it!” He started gathering his gear, most of which he had tossed to the side as he became more engaged in the game. “I have to get back to the girls. There’s no telling what sort of mischief—”

“Whoa now, Haute. That’s not the plan,” I said. “We’re following Ida out into the mist. Not you.”

“Yeah, but . . .” He peered longingly into the fog. His shoulders slumped. “Okay.”

“How do I do this?” Ida asked. “Just start walking?”

“Take the amulets with you,” Chesa said. “They’re meant to be portals to our domains. Maybe the latent magic will help.”

“Won’t they just lead us to one of your domains, then?” Adelaide asked. She hadn’t really participated in the game, beyond making snide comments under her breath, but now that we’d opened a portal into the Unreal, she looked really uncomfortable. “No offense, John, but I’ve heard stories about your forest of terrors. I want no part in it.”

“Well, we’re just going to have to find out.” I motioned to the amulets, lying on the table in the middle of the dice pile. “Imagine your mythic self, and start walking. We’ll stay here until you’ve established yourself, so we don’t disrupt the creation of the domain. There should be an obvious path back, related to your mythic identity. For me, it was . . . well, falling out of the sky.”

“What?!” Ida gasped.

“My domain is all about fear, and overcoming it,” I said. “I’m sure yours will be much calmer. More mechanical.”

“I followed a staircase growing out of a tree,” Chesa answered. “Don’t worry. The way forward will be obvious.”

“And we’re supposed to just wait here?” Tesla asked.

“We don’t want to risk leading her astray,” Chesa said. “It shouldn’t take too long. And we have snacks.”

Tentatively, Ida picked up the six amulets and clutched them to her chest. We watched as she walked out into the mists, disappearing soon after. It wasn’t long before the mists faded, and the stained white walls of the gaming room reasserted themselves. Gregory visibly deflated.

“I’m going to want that back,” Gregory said. “Unless we’re taking a detour to our own domains, I’m dangerously low on magic power.”

“Don’t worry, Greg. I’m sure she’ll be back soon,” I said. “And we can get on with finding and defeating this Iron Lich character. In the meantime . . .” I nodded to the table. “Initiative?”

“I thought we were just crossing the bridge?” he asked.

“Well.” I smiled wickedly. “You can certainly try.”


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