Book 3 - Chapter 3 (Patreon)

The house Hogg led him to next didn’t have a storefront, just a nondescript entrance to an ordinary home. Gustaff didn't have the type of business where people would visit his property. If you needed Gustaff to do something for you, you could talk to the mirror image in the town square.

"Gustaff is sort of missing," Hogg explained after knocking on the door. "His mirror image is still there and it'll play music and movies like normal, but no one has been able to talk to him through it since before the undead attacked us."

No answer came, so Hogg knocked again. No one answered, and there was no sound from inside the house.

"Are you sure he's home?" asked Brin.

"Where else would he be?" Hogg sighed. "I miss being able to spy on everyone. Now I actually have to get up and walk over if I want to see what someone's up to. I don't know how anyone lives like this."

"Do you wish you had your illusions back instead of [Summon Hard Light]?" asked Brin.

Hogg snorted. "Of course not." He flicked his finger, which shot forth a beam of blue light that wriggled like a worm into the keyhole. An instant later, the door unlatched and swung open.

"I could've asked Marksi to... where is Marksi? He hates going to the Peck's but I figured he would be back by now," said Brin.

Hogg stepped inside, and Brin followed him.

Inside, they were met with a plushly decorated front room. Fairly ordinary couches, but around them were tables with vases full of blooming flowers. The walls were covered in paintings of stunning landscapes so lifelike it felt like he could just step inside. A glowing chandelier hung from the ceiling, lit with two dozen candles, and a faint, soothing melody played in the background. No lamps were lit, but the candle on the end table must've just gone out recently because a faint smell of smoke hung in the air.

Brin didn’t stop to admire the decorations, because except for the couches, the end table with the candle, and the smell of smoke, everything in this room was illusion.

Gustaff sat on the sofa, holding so still that Brin didn't notice him at first glance. He was real, too. He was much younger in real life than his mirror image had let Brin believe. His beard was short and brown instead of long and white, and he wore the ordinary clothing of the Bog rather than the colorful [Illusionist] robes.

Gustaff's head was back, and he was snoring softly.

Hogg clapped.

Gustaff's head didn't move, but the snoring stopped and he sniffed. "Ah, sorry. Could you come back later? I've just awoken from a nap."

Brin heard the words clear as day, but maybe it was too dark in here because it seemed like Gustaff's mouth wasn't moving.

“No. We need to speak now,” said Hogg.

"Ah, sorry. Could you come back later? I've just awoken from a nap."

Brin had been watching this time. Gustaff’s lips really weren’t moving. Since this was an [Illusionist], Brin would normally assume that this was a mirror image with careless lip syncing, but [Know What’s Real] was never wrong. Whatever this was, it was real. Something was seriously wrong with this guy.

Hogg held a warning hand to stop Brin from moving, and then gestured in a wide circle with his other. A wall of shimmering violet light appeared, between them and Gustaff, splitting the whole room in half.

Gustaff's eyes snapped to Hogg, and he stood, shakily. He coughed, spraying out green flem that stuck to Hogg's shield. Groaning, he hunched over, and vomited out a thick liquid that steamed when it hit the ground. Hogg shouted and made a motion with his hands, and the violet wall of hard light warped into a sphere around the sick man, breaking straight through the floor to encompass him completely.

The motion knocked Gustaff off balance and he fell backward. His head hit the end table on the way down and split in half like an overripe melon. Dozens of thumb-sized maggots splashed out of his skull, scattering every which way. The illusionary decorations winked out, leaving the room bare except for the sphere of hard light holding Gustaff’s corpse.

"Out!" Hogg shouted, and Brin didn't have to be told twice.

Back in the sunlight, Hogg turned to the house, and made sharp gestures while muttering the Language under his breath.

"What was that? What are you doing?"

Hogg didn't answer until after another thirty seconds of furious spellcasting. "Sealing it off from the inside. Can't let any of whatever that was get out into the city."

"Was that a [Witch]?"

"A [Witch] did that, yeah. A strong one," said Hogg. He turned to the bystanders. "Murder! Someone get the Prefit! Emergency!" Six different people went running.

"They probably got to him the same night they went after us," said Hogg. "Damn. When I saw his mirror image in the town square I figured that meant he'd been spared. Instead, they carved out his brain and kept his body alive so we wouldn't find out about it right away."

"No wonder everyone hates [Witches]," said Brin.

"It's worse than you think. Diseases that come from Hexes are still contagious. If that spray from his cough had hit us, we'd probably be dead. If anyone else had found Gustaff first, we might've had dozens dead. Hundreds, maybe."

"Are you sure we're safe now?" asked Brin.

"No way to be sure about anything," said Hogg. "But I've put up three spheres of hard light between us and the body. "

The Prefit arrived a few minutes later with a bushy-bearded Lantern-man in tow. Inspect told Brin he was a level 32 [Firefighter].

Hogg stepped over to talk to Prefit Elmon and pulled a brass pocket watch-looking device from his coat and twisted the dial.  A decoy, because an instant later a clear box of hard light sprang around them, so faint that Brin only noticed it because he was looking. It dampened all sound, letting them talk in privacy.

Even with the fake enchantment decoy, it was unlike Hogg to get so close to using his powers publicly like this. He’d only do something like that if the situation was desperate.

The Prefit grew pale, and his eyes kept darting to the house as Hogg spoke to him. The big [Warrior] was clearly terrified, and well he should be, especially since this wasn’t the kind of foe that you could defeat with an ax. They spoke quickly, going back and forth, and then seemed to come to an agreement.

The privacy booth disappeared, and the Prefit looked at the Lantern-man. "Burn it to the ground."

The [Firefighter] nodded. He slid his two batons against each other, and they must’ve been made of flint or something similar, because the motion created a large flash of sparks. Instead of burning out, the sparks grew and erupted into flame, which flew into Gustaff's house.  The [Firefighter] Class must've been just as much about starting fires as it was about putting them out, because in seconds the few sparks became a gigantic conflagration. The flames crawled around the sides of the house unnaturally, like a living thing, surrounding the house completely and reaching hundreds of feet into the air. The [Firefighter] knew what he was doing, though, because the walls of the houses only a few feet away didn't even blacken from the smoke.

Brin noticed the flicker of light as Hogg surreptitiously let his spheres of hard light disappear, and the blaze grew even higher, as if suddenly let free.

More and more townspeople arrived, murmuring in hushed tones. They watched as the fire consumed the house and everything in it. The flame burned hot, enough that Brin could still feel it even through [Heat Resistance] from [Glasser] and his [Temperature Resistance] from [Traveler]. Dozens of townspeople crowded in to watch, but no one got within twenty feet of him and Hogg, and he didn't think it was only because of the heat.

Brin would’ve stayed to watch until the home was a smoldering hole in the ground, but Hogg grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him away.

They walked down the street, away from the tall plume of black smoke, ignoring the questioning calls or shouts of alarm from people who were just starting to notice it.

Marksi caught up with them a block away from Gustaff’s house. He jumped into Brin’s arms, and lay there shivering.

“Did you know there was something wrong with that house? Is that why you didn’t come find me after the Peck’s? Well, warm me next time! I had no idea about the evil in there,” said Brin.

Marksi twitched his tail, using their code word for ‘yes’.

They marched straight home, Hogg’s hand never moving from its vice-clamp on Brin’s shoulders. Instead of the front door, they went around to the cellar and walked down.

Brin immediately went to sit in the chairs in the enchanted circle of silver, but Hogg walked to an empty worktable, picked it up, and threw it against the wall, where it shattered. He yelled in frustration, then looked at Brin. “Sorry.”

The outburst was so out of character for Hogg that Brin didn’t know what to say. Had losing a fellow Bogger affected him this much? He shrugged. “It’s fine.”

Hogg walked inside the circle of silver and slumped down on a chair.

“It’s my fault. They were looking for me and got him,” said Hogg.

“It’s not. Anyone with any brains could figure out that Gustaff wasn’t even close to as powerful as you were. At least that’s what you told me. Was it because he was low-level?”

“It’s because he was lazy,” said Hogg. “Sorry. I shouldn’t speak about him that way.”

Brin sensed that Hogg needed to keep talking right now, and that the old guy wasn’t ready to address the [Witches] yet, so he prodded. “Lazy how? His illusions worked night and day.”

“Lazy as in he let his Class do all his work for him. Alright, so there’s two types of builds, the fast power build and the slow power build. The slow way isn’t all that slow, honestly, but it’s harder. Take your one base Skill, and upgrade it every time with very few expectations. The base Skill will get stronger and stronger, it’ll level faster and take less Mana to use. Then you can use it to replicate all the effects of the Skills that you passed up.

“Or, if you’re lazy, you can just take every Skill the System offers rather than upgrades. You’ll be able to use your Class’s better abilities right away, rather than having to train for years. [Mirror Image] is a level ten Skill, and you’ll get perfect mirror images every time. [Copy Illusion] at level 20 recorded those movies for him, and [Replay Illusion] sent them back out. That’s what Gustaff did; every half-decent illusion he could do came from [Replay Illusion]. He had to pay someone in Steamshield to make alterations of his mirror image to make it look older. The decorations in his house, same thing. Bought it off a real [Illusionist].”

“Like you?” asked Brin.

“I don’t think he ever knew I was an [Illusionist]. He never sent an invisible eye to my house; I know that much. The sentries around my house never detected any other illusions until I got back from Travin’s Bog.”

“He could make an invisible eye?” asked Brin. “That could be why they killed him.”

“Maybe,” said Hogg. “There’s a lot we don’t know. The Prefit is going to have his Lantern-men ask around for anyone who was seen talking to Gustaff the night he died. He was a solitary sort, kind of a homebody, but that’s going to work in our favor for once. There will probably be a small pool of people who’ve talked to him in person recently.”

“And a smaller list of people whose hospitality he’s enjoyed,” said Brin.

“Exactly.”

“I have to ask. Why… look, you told me you don’t want to kill them and I respect that, but you know who the [Witches] are. Couldn’t you just interrogate them? Make them swear Oaths to tell the truth.”

“That’s exactly the type of overbearing power move that the [Witch] Class is designed to counter. What would happen is that each of the [Witches] would swear very convincingly that they aren’t the traitor and would never do me any harm, and then the next morning I’d wake up with worms in my brain. You can never trust that a [Witch] said what you heard her say. I thought I already told you that.”

“You didn’t,” said Brin.

“Well, I did now. Look, this whole [Witch]-hunt is getting a lot hairier a lot faster than I thought. Maybe we should cancel our little game.”

“Absolutely not. And I have a guess: Calisto is not a [Witch]. Normally a [Pharmacist] would be a perfect disguise, but he was much too eager about getting the [Alchemist] Class. A real [Witch] would’ve talked you out of buying half his business and promising to work for free.”

“Correct, but that was an easy one. I practically spoon fed it to you,” said Hogg.

“It’s a start,” said Brin.

Hogg sighed and stared off into space. When he didn’t speak again for a long pause, Brin stood up. “Well, I think–”

“Hold on, we need to talk about you. Everyone is going to think you killed Gustaff,” said Hogg.

Brin sat back down. Then stood up again. “No. You know what? I don’t even care. If they–”

“Hold up, we just need to get ahead of it, is all. Everyone has seen your [Glasser] Class, they just need confirmation that it isn’t fake. I talked to the Prefit, and he is willing to announce it in front of the whole town. We’d like to tell everyone that Tawna bullied and manipulated you into taking an evil Class, but that you overcame it and switched to [Glasser], and that he’d personally verified it in a way that can’t be fooled. Namely, by me, but we won’t tell them that part. Obviously, this is only with your permission.”

Brin nodded. “Well, that’s fine, since that’s exactly what happened. I guess I’m surprised that Prefit Elmon agreed to it.”

“Give him a little credit. He’s got a very strong sense of duty. So strong it dulls his other senses, maybe,” said Hogg. “It’s about time I told you how Tawna’s trial went.”

“Went? So it’s over? They’ve reached a verdict?” asked Brin.

“Yeah.”

Brin had told himself that the thing with Tawna was over, that he just wanted to move on. But saying it and feeling it were completely different things. He still felt the swirling mix of anger and anxiety every time her name was brought up. He took a deep breath and shoved it down.

“Tell me.”

“The Prefit was as good as his word. He pushed for the death penalty. Hard. I supported him, but I got voted into silence pretty quickly. I’m not exactly a neutral party. No one else listened to the Prefit. In fact, a couple people felt that she’d done nothing wrong.”

“Who?” asked Brin.

“I’m not supposed to tell you that Elvira the [Trapper] and Balbi the [Laundress] both supported Tawna completely,” said Hogg. “But a lot of the council listened to them. Tawna did save the town after all, and moving up System Day saved you and me both. Maybe if things had turned out differently, that would be one thing, but she succeeded. Most of the council felt that the ends justified the means. When you shrugged off [Scarred One], it was a done deal.”

“So she got off scot-free,” Brin said.

“No. They wanted to put her in the stockade for six hours, but Tawna objected. She insisted that she receive the lash, and as a councilwoman herself, she had the right. She’ll be given one-hundred and four strikes with the whip.”

“Can she survive that?” asked Brin.

Hogg pressed his lips together. “I don’t know.” He frowned at the floor, then said, “There’s another thing. As part of her punishment, she’ll be tasked with making these. We plan to put one in every house in town.”

Hogg pulled a tangle of string, which quickly popped into place and arranged itself. It was a circle of twine, with several strings forming a pattern in the center. It sort of looked like a Native American dream catcher, except very simple-looking.

“This is a fate-eater. It should make it more difficult for [Witches] to spy on us. Tawna’s predictions were one of our town’s key advantages, but we’re under no illusions that she’s better at it than they are. Better if no one can use fate for the near future. Plus, this is one of the few things we can do to resist their power that won’t look like we’re opposing them directly; we have a plausible reason for doing this. And before you ask, she’s under Oath that these are real and they work, and no, Tawna isn’t a [Witch].”

Brin had never seen one of those little circles before, but he knew he wanted one. No one should be messing with his fate except for him. “Huh. If Tawna can’t read my fate, will that let her out of that Oath she swore to stop screwing with me?”

“To be honest, that Oath was paper thin. She swore to abide by your terms, which you phrased very loosely, ‘in the spirit in which they were given’. That phrase will do a lot of walking if she wants it to,” said Hogg.

“Great,” said Brin, exasperated. “When’s all this going to happen?”

“We’d planned it for next week, but with this? We need to cut the rumors about you off before they start and get the fate eaters to everyone as soon as possible. The Prefit and I think we need to move it up. The punishment will be carried out tomorrow.”