Grand Game 411: A Day of Surprises (Patreon)

I froze.

I hadn’t heard right. I couldn’t have. “Say that again,” I whispered.

“The Adjudicator, he asked me to—”

You have teleported 4 yards.

I blurred into motion, moving so quickly the young assassin didn’t realize what was going on until she felt ebonheart digging into her skin.

“The Adjudicator?” I growled, yanking her head back with my left hand. “Who told you to use that name?”

“What?” she sputtered, her eyes growing wide with fear. But it was only pretend-fear, I realized as I spotted her right hand inch closer to the concealed dagger in her left arm.

“Don’t,” I warned. “I know about the blade. If you draw it, you’re dead.”

Still, she scowled. “What do you want?”

I pressed the black blade deeper into her neck. “Tell me who told you about the Adjudicator.”

“No one!”

“You’re lying,” I hissed.

“I’m not,” she protested. “No one told me. The Game spoke in my mind. It told me to find you. It said if I did, I’d be rewarded.”

The Game?

“I thought it meant money. Look, just let me go, please. If I knew you were this batshit crazy, I never would’ve—”

“Shut up,” I ordered.  No sooner than she did so, I reached out with my will and analyzed her.

The target is Nyra, a human.

That Adjudicator’s response left me no less baffled.

The Game had not defined the young woman’s level, and ordinarily, I would have taken that to mean that she was a civilian. But I believed her when she said she was an assassin.

And that patently made her not-civilian.

The Game also hadn’t labeled Nyra a player, which it should have if she was one of the Game’s rare civilians. And anyway, she couldn’t be a player. She had to be lying about that. But why? What could she hope to gain? There were no players in Draven’s Reach other than me. I knew this for a fact. The Adjudicator himself had told me so when I’d entered the dungeon.

Unless…

“You say the Adjudicator spoke to you in your mind?” I asked softly.

“Yes,” Nyra replied.

“For how long has this been going on?”

She stayed silent.

I shook her. “For how long?”

“Years,” she replied in a clipped tone.

“Be precise,” I growled.

Nyra hesitated, then said, “I first heard him when I turned eighteen.” Tilting her head back further, she met my gaze defiantly. “Right around the time I should have.”

Spinning the young assassin around, I stepped back and stared at her in surprise. “Then you know what you are?”

She nodded mutely.

“Well, I don’t,” Ghost declared. “What is she?”

“She is one of the Game’s rarities,” I answered aloud. “A native of the Forever Kingdom born with the potential to become a player. Isn’t that right, Nyra?”

The young woman evinced no surprise at my use of her name. “That’s right.”

I sensed Ghost’s confusion. “So, she is a player?”

“Not yet,” I said, still speaking aloud. “Unlike those of us summoned from other worlds—who become players on entering the Game—the natives of this world are given a choice in the matter. If Nyra doesn’t adopt a Class, she will remain a non-player.”

I’d learned all this from Captain Talon during one of our more interesting discussions about players after I rescued his son, Sturm.

“You mean prole,” Nyra interjected.

I shook my head. “I don’t like that word. Don’t use it.”

“What does that make her?” Ghost asked. “Friend or foe?”

I pursed my lips. “I’m not sure.”

Nyra frowned. “Do you always talk to yourself like that?”

“Sometimes, I do,” I replied blandly. “But this time around, I’m speaking to my companion, Ghost.”

She stared at me blankly. “Who?”

“The wolf sitting at my feet and ready to tear out your throat on my say so,” I said, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to instill some fear in the self-styled assassin.

Nyra’s gaze dropped lower. “That’s a wolf? I’ve never seen one before.”

I smiled faintly. “Ghost is no ordinary wolf. Ordinary wolves don’t spit fire.”

“Or speak to people mind-to-mind?” she guessed.

“You figured that out, did you? Good. Watch what you say around her. Ghost isn’t as tolerant as I am.”

Nyra inched back. “Right, I take it we’re done. I’ll just be on my way, then.” Turning around, she began to slip away.

“Stop!” I barked.

For an instant, Nyra kept moving, and I could see she was contemplating escape.

“Ghost will only run you down,” I called.

That stopped her in her tracks. “What do you want?” she demanded, turning around.

I smiled. “I thought that was my question to ask.”

She was not amused.

I chuckled. “For starters, I want to know everything the Adjudicator has said to you.”

“Then you believe me?”

I shrugged noncommittally.

“And after that, you will let me go?”

“If everything you say pans out,” I said, ignoring the question, “I have a choice to offer you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What choice?”

“We’ll get to that. But for now—”

“There he is!”

I broke off, my gaze darting to the three soldiers entering the alley. “Told you I saw him come this way,” one said.

“Well spotted, Zot,” the sergeant accompanying him congratulated.

“Sir,” the third said, stepping around Nyra as if she wasn’t there. “I’m glad I found you!”

I studied the young soldier as he drew to a halt before me. Despite the army uniform he wore, he bore no weapons, and his face was flushed from running.

Not a soldier, I amended. A messenger. “Is something wrong?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, sir. I only know that the marshal—pardon me, the First—ordered me to escort you back to the council. And with all due haste.”

“Call me Taim,” I said absently. Had something happened?

Something must have. Elron wasn’t one to panic, and whatever it was, it sounded urgent. “Alright, let’s go.”

The messenger spun on his heels, already hurrying away.

“What about her?” Ghost asked.

I glanced in Nyra’s direction. She was pressed up against the wall, looking for all the world as if she were trying to disappear into the brickwork. The young assassin was a complication but an opportunity, too, and I couldn’t let her go just yet.

“She comes with us.”

✵ ✵ ✵

Nyra, of course, protested. But I was having none of it.

“I’m telling you, this is a mistake,” she said for what must have been the fourth time.

“And why is that?” I asked, watching in amusement as she tried to yank free from the sergeant who held her right arm in an iron grip. Nyra’s weapons had been confiscated, which was the only reason he hadn’t been stabbed yet.

As usual, she refused to answer.

Shrugging, I kept walking. We had already crossed the city, and the fortress’ main doors were in sight.

“They’ll recognize me,” Nyra blurted suddenly.

I studied her curiously. “Who will?”

“The councilors. The nobles. Someone.”

There was a tremor in Nyra’s voice that bespoke fear—real fear if I was any judge—but I already knew she was a practiced liar, leaving me to doubt my observations. She would make for an excellent deception player, that was for sure.

“Is this because—” my gaze darted to the soldiers escorting us—“of your recent exploits?”

“Of course not!” she scoffed. “I do better work than that.”

I raised one eyebrow. “Then why would anyone recognize you? Or even care if they did?”

“They just will,” she replied weakly.

“Whatever you’re afraid of, don’t worry. You’re under my protection. No one will touch you.”

“‘Under your protection?’ Is that what you call forcibly dragging me somewhere I don’t want to be? Ha! What a joke.”

I closed my eyes, striving for patience.

“This one seems to be more trouble than she is worth,” Ghost observed.

“Maybe,” I conceded. “But keep an eye on her anyway while I deal with the council. Until I say otherwise, she is to be treated like Pack.”

“Understood, Prime.”

We passed through the doors of the fortress and made our way to the council hall. Nyra struggled all the way, attracting curious stares from the keep’s occupants. I watched closely, but despite the attention she received, I saw no spark of recognition in any of the watchers.

We reached the council hall in short order and found Captain Algar waiting for us at the doors. “Taim,” he exclaimed. “Finally! What kept you?”

I opened my mouth to explain, then shook my head. “Never mind. What’s going on?”

“No time to explain,” he said, tugging me forward. “They’re already antsy enough in there. Let’s get—” He broke off, noticing Nyra for the first time. “Who’s this?”

“An assassin-in-training,” I replied with a straight face.

“Funny,” he said, making a face at me before shooting Nyra a second look. His brows furrowed. “Do I know you?”

“No,” she replied harshly.

Algar scratched his head, then shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. The girl will have to wait here.”

I hesitated.

“I don’t know who the girl is to you, Taim, but matters in the city are uncertain enough as they are.” Algar pointed to the council hall. “Believe me, creating any more of a stir than you have already will not help you with them. You will only hurt your cause.”

I sighed, not really understanding but willing to trust his judgment in the matter. “Alright, she can remain here, but Ghost will stay with her.”

Algar smiled, looking relieved. “Perfect.” He threw the pyre wolf an apologetic look. “The First told me about her, and I don’t mean this disparagingly, but she will cause more alarm than we can afford right now. It’s better if she stayed outside, too.”

Ghost flopped down beside Nyra. She didn’t look offended. If anything, Algar’s words seemed to have pleased her.

I turned back to Algar. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like whatever is going on in there?”

“We have it under control,” he said firmly. He began turning away, then paused. “Just try to be diplomatic in there.”

Diplomatic? When was I not diplomatic?

I didn’t voice the question aloud, though, knowing that Algar likely had a vastly different opinion from mine. I glanced at Nyra. “Behave. And don’t try anything. Ghost is more than your match.”

Glaring back at me, she said nothing.

Sighing, I waved Algar forward. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

Not needing to be told twice, the captain pushed open the doors to the council hall and led the way in.

✵ ✵ ✵

Things inside were not what I expected.

The council chamber was busier than I’d ever seen it. Richly dressed dark elves, dwarfs, orcs, and humans lined the walls, outnumbering the guards many times over. They were clumped together in isolated groups and, one and all, seemed to be involved in animated discussions with their fellows.

“What’s going on?” I asked Algar over the clamor of noise filling the hall. “Who are all these people?”

Algar’s lips thinned. “The city’s finest,” he replied as we cut a path down the center of the chamber. “It’s founding families. They all insisted they be there for this.”

I blinked. “Be here for what?”

He threw me an unreadable look. “You’ll find out soon enough.” Coming to a halt in front of the council table, he raised his voice, “Lord, I have brought the player Taim as requested.”

The murmur of conversation died as all eyes in the room turned toward us—me specifically. Feeling as if I’d been ambushed, I held myself still as I surveyed the table.

The three councilors—Stormhammer, Lorn, and now Elron—occupied pride of place at the center, but they were not alone. Crowding the rest of the table were a host of other dark elves, dwarves, orcs—and humans. I gave the humans a second look, wondering which one was the new high lord.

I paused as I picked out a familiar face. What is Gamil doing here?

Lorn rose to his feet. A hush had descended on the chamber, and I could feel the anticipation build. “Lords, ladies, we’re gathered here this evening for an unprecedented event. Our human cousins have settled on their choice of candidate. However, there are some in his hall who have questioned the validity of their choice. Ordinarily, these questions would be ignored. It is, after all, the right of each tribe’s first families to select their representative and for the council to approve it.”

Turning around, Lorn swept the hall with a stern gaze. “However, given the recent and… untimely deaths of two council members, concerns—frivolous concerns, I might add—have also been raised about the council’s neutrality and its ability to judge the new candidate on merit alone.” The orc chief’s voice had turned distinctly frosty toward the end, I noted.

Finally having an inkling of what was going on, I followed Lorn’s gaze as he picked out individual faces in the crowd. So, those are the troublemakers.

Not missing what I was about, Elron threw me a warning look. Was that a silent message not to interfere? If so, why had they brought me here?

“Then, too,” Lorn continued, “we must consider the recent upheavals in the city and the uncertain future New Haven faces. The council must be whole again, but the council must also have the unquestioning support of the people. Given all this, I and my fellow councilors are unanimous in our view that this matter cannot be allowed to drag on or for resentment to simmer.”

Lorn glanced at Elron and Stormhammer, who both nodded decisively to indicate their support of his words.

“As such,” Lorn went on, “for the good of the city, the council has decided that the matter will be decided tonight, once and for all, and in an open hearing with all parties present.”

He sat back down, and Elron rose to his feet. “Will the nominated speaker for the objectors step forward,” the First instructed, his voice studiedly neutral.

A figure separated itself from the crowd.

My mouth twisted as I saw who it was. Minakawa.

“I’m here,” the dark elf captain said, but not before throwing me a venomous look.

“Step forward and present yourself,” Elron said coldly when Minakawa, remaining where he was, continued to glare at me.

Throwing the First a scornful look, the dark elf made his way to the table and sat down. Elron sat back down, and all eyes turned to Stormhammer.

“Bah, what a circus,” the dwarf muttered, looking even more disgusted than usual by proceedings. “Gamil,” he barked.

“Yes, thane,” the old shopkeeper replied.

“Present your case,” Stormhammer ordered curtly.