Chapter 24: Enter the City (Patreon)

Not long after leaving the broodmother behind, my darkvision buff faded, which forced me to use light’s fury to navigate.

Doing so was both more tedious and dangerous, but fortunately, I ran across no other strange creatures, and shortly the tunnel I was following spilled out into a corridor that was brightly lit.

Letting my light fury spell lapse, I studied the magelights lining the roof of the corridor. Vigil had not explicitly said so, but I had suspected that the route I’d be given would eventually join one of the more populous gutter highways.

Which this must be, I decided.

After all, there could be only so many sewer exits in the new city that the Raccoons could safely use. Craning my head back, I studied the magelights hanging high above. They told me something else too.

Magelights were expensive and often the purview of players, which meant that whatever else the Raccoons were, they were rich.

Smuggling must be a profitable business.

Shaking my head—and still not quite able to get over the extravagant waste of using magelights in a sewer—I turned left down the corridor. The exit I needed was supposedly not be far ahead, just around the next corner in fact.

I found it easily enough, and soon found myself ascending the rungs of a steel ladder. Reaching the top, I raised the lid cautiously.

Vigil had not warned me to be especially careful around the exits, but then again, he’d also failed to make any mention of the broodmother, so trusting to my own discretion, I slipped as quietly as I could into the darkness above.

Straightening, I realized I was not in a room as I half-expected to be, but in a darkened alleyway. Turning my face skyward, I saw that full night had fallen.

That will make things easier, I decided.

The streets would be emptier, and few guards were likely around.

“If only you were a sneak, it would be even easier,” Adalinda murmured.

“True,” I agreed.

I didn’t expect to encounter any danger in the new city, law and order were too strictly enforced here for that, but the city watch would be suspicious of anyone who stood out, and I would have to take care to blend in.

Exiting the alley, I turned down a random direction onto the adjoining street and strolled casually, if purposefully. It would take me a few minutes to get my bearings, but I was not exactly a strange to the new city.

The cool night air was refreshing, and the streets were free of mud and debris—my lips turned down—unlike those in the slums. The moon was out, too, showing off the regal mansions and manicured lawns to best effect.

Eventually, I figured out where I was: one of Mesina’s richest neighborhoods—outside of the safe zone that was.

What need do they have of smugglers here? I wondered. Then dismissing the idle thought, I turned my feet in the direction of Odenna’s shop.

Her place was close to the city’s safe zone, but I was approaching from the other end and meant I wasn’t likely to trip over any players.

Which I didn’t.

Ten minutes later, unaccosted and unnoticed, I drew to a half before a double-story building. It stood out from the surrounding buildings, and even though I not been here in nearly a decade, I had no trouble identifying the cheerful-looking place.

Pot plants lined the windows, strings of lights hung along the fence, vines crept up the walls, birds nested on the roof, and even the air smelled different—earthy with hints of cedar and lavender.

All in all, it was uniquely Odenna.

As I remembered her, anyway. Who knew what had changed in the passing decade? Not her house, obviously. Striding up the steps and past the sign proclaiming the shop’s name—Roots and All—I knocked politely.

There was no immediate answer, and I took a moment to study the surroundings. The streets were empty, not surprising given the lateness of the hour. But the slums were never this quiet, even at night.

Suddenly nervous—there was a lot resting on this visit, but in many ways, I still didn’t know why I was here—I knocked again.

Would the herbwoman even remember me? Would she provide the enlightenment Soren seemed to hint at? And what could she possibly have to say that could be so—

The door swung open.

My thoughts fled and for a moment my mind blanked.

A familiar face appeared—all sharp lines, wrinkled brow, and weighty eyes. She’s not changed at all. But then Odenna was an elf and would likely look the same when I was old and grey as she did now.

But that’s no longer true. I’m a player now.

“Who is it?” the old elf snapped. “And what are you doing here at this ungodly hour?”

I licked my lips, then remembering my hood, flicked it back. “Uhm, Odenna, don’t you remember? It’s me—”

“Elana!” she exclaimed, flinging the door wide open and revealing the warmly lit interior.

A smile touched my lips. “So, you do remember,” I murmured.

“Of course, I do,” the herbwoman rasped, ushering me in. The happy glint was still in her eyes, but now, another more indecipherable emotion accompanied it. “Yours are a pair of eyes, I will never forget.”

There was a strange challenge to the words. Was I supposed to know that they meant? I shrugged. “People don’t know them as much anyone.”

“Hmm,” she mused. Looking past me, she studied the empty streets. “You’re alone?” she asked more soberly.

I nodded.

“Soren?”

I shook my head.

Emotion flickered across her face—disappointment, grief, alarm. “He’s not…?”

Realizing what she was trying to ask, I shook my head quickly. “No! He’s alive, safe and sound in the poor quarter.” Oh so, I hoped.

“Ah, good,” she replied, looking crestfallen.

I could tell Soren’s absence hurt her. Being older, he’d spent even more time with Odenna than I had. And seeing her grief, I wondered for the first time if whatever discord lay between the two, was not of Soren’s making.

I’d always assumed it was Odenna who’d cut ties with us, not the other way around. If I had known—or even only suspected—it might be otherwise, I wouldn’t have hesitated to ask her for help when Soren got sick.

Then I would not have become a player, and everything would’ve stayed the same.

But then, too, I would never have met Adalinda.

Seemingly lost in her own musing, Odenna shook herself. “Come in, come in, girl. Don’t just stand there.”

I followed her in, and she shut the door.

“Come, let’s go upstairs,” Odenna said. “We can talk there.”

Leading me up the narrow staircase, she sat me down at a small kitchen table—the same one from my childhood—then busied herself about the stove. “Let me put a pot on the boil.”

She meant tea. Odenna loved tea more than she loved anything else.

While she pottered about, I studied the shelves lining the kitchen. All sorts of herbs, spices, and plants filled them. As a child, I had wanted to know all their names, nor I could barely identify a handful.

Odenna returned to the table with two steaming cups. Setting down one before me, she sat down and sipped from the other. “Now, we can talk,” she said with a serene smile.

Before I could speak, she went on. “I know it’s been ten odd years since we’ve seen each other, and there is so much I want to ask and hear about your life.” She fixed me with a look only mildly severe. “But while I may be old, I’ve not grown senile. Nor can I imagine that a capable young woman like you would turn up at my door at this hour unless something was amiss. What’s wrong, Elana?”

I sighed. “Everything. But I don’t know where to begin.”

Reaching out across the table, Odenna squeezed my hand. “Let’s start with why you’re here.”

I barked a laugh. “I don’t know that either.”

Odenna’s eyes twinkled. “Really?” she asked, taking another sip. “That’s a quandary then.”

I bowed my head, staring into my still untouched cup. “Soren sent me.”

“Soren?” Odenna asked, an odd note in voice.

I looked up at her. “And Eoman.”

All affability vanished from the old elf’s face as if had never existed. “Eoman too?”

“From you expression, I take it you know him?” I couldn’t say I was surprised, considering that nearly everyone around me seemed to know each other and what was going on. Everyone except me.

Odenna set down her cup carefully and held my gaze, her eyes harder than I’ve ever seen them. For some reason, she reminded me of Eoman just then. “Something has gone wrong, Elana. I can tell. I don’t need the details right now. Just the broad strokes.”

I gaped at Odenna. Who are you? I wanted to ask. This was not the same gentle herbwoman I remembered, which made me recall Soren’s words.

Odenna is more than a herbwoman.

It appeared he’d not been lying.

Odenna shook me urgently. “Elana, focus. There’s no time for this. What’s happened?”

I glared at her for a moment, still no closer to figuring out where to begin. But then, all the rage, anger, and frustration, I’d been suppressing came to the fore, and I thought the hell with it. Why not just tell her?

“I’m a player.”

For a moment the bald statement sat there between us like a flung gauntlet.

Then, she picked it up. “When?”

I stared at her. There was not a trace of surprise on her face. Not a single iota. “Of all the questions to ask, that’s the one you pick?” I asked incredulously. “Not how? Or even why? But—”

Odenna’s open palm slammed down on the table so hard her cup jumped off and shattered against the floor. Glowering at me, the elf paid it no heed. “When did you become a player?” she asked, annunciating each word carefully.

I frowned at her, debating where to answer or not, but there was no profit in lying now, not if I was seeking answers of my own. “A few days ago,” I said shortly.

“Why?”

“To save Soren,” I replied, throwing back my response in the same rapid fire fashion she’d asked the question.

“How?”

I smirked. “A Class stone.”

“Damnit girl,” Odenna growled. “This is no game!”

I had a quip ready for that too but decided to refrain. There was no use antagonizing her—unnecessarily. Necessary, I had no problem with. “Don’t you think I know that? This is my life we’re talking about here. But what am I supposed to think when everyone around me seems intent on keeping me in the dark?”

“Define everyone,” she barked. “Who know you’re a player?”

Sighing, I sat back, too tired to remain angry anymore. “The entire poor quarter by now. Cantos has been intent on spreading the word.”

Her eyes narrowed. “The Butcher? You’ve tangled with the Devils?”

“I’m surprised you’ve heard of him, all the way up here,” I said, spreading my arms wide to include the entire new city in my statement.

“You’d be surprised by what I know,” Odenna said, looking a little frustrated herself.

I snorted. “Hardly. I’ve come here for you to lay it all out for me. For enlightenment,” I added sarcastically. “For you to explain the story of my life.”

Odenna sat back and studied me oddly. Was that a hint of pity in her eyes? I hoped not. I didn’t want her pity or anyone’s, for that matter.

“And who told you I’d do that?” she asked.

“Soren. Eoman.” I paused. “Well, in Eoman’s case, it was more by implication.”

“Then they were wrong,” Odenna said sadly. “I’ve no enlightenment to offer you, Elana. No hidden wisdom. Only truth: leave this city and don’t come back. Find somewhere remote, somewhere where there are no players, and live out your life peacefully. Don’t play the Game. It’ll only ruin you.”

As philosophies went it was remarkably similar to what Soren preached, to what I had believed it not so long ago: stay away from the Game; it’ll only bring you trouble.

But I no longer had that luxury.

And not only because of Adalinda. There was too much about the Game that was broken. Too much that needed fixing. I could run from it all, yes. But that would make me a coward.

And I wasn’t about to come one now.

“So, you won’t tell me about Shanasyn then?”

Odenna grew still. “Where did you hear that name?” she asked, her voice steely.

“From Soren,” I said, lying smoothly.

It was obvious Odenna knew things, but it was equally obvious she was intent on prying out whatever I knew without giving back anything in return.

“He shouldn’t have mentioned it,” she growled.

“He also shouldn’t have been keeping such secrets from me for the better part of my life,” I said sweetly. “Nor should you have, for that matter.”

I rose to my feet. “Well, it seems we are done here.” Turning about, I headed for the stairs. “Goodbye Odenna.”