Know Your Roll Read online

Mother Mayeye had, though.

  To hear her talk, before the Platform had been reversed and forced to deposit the enemy troops on our doorstep, the town that stood here had been named Darkwell. It had basked in shadow before Hallow had been built on its ashes.

  Thoughts of Mother made me even more morose than I’d been before. She was still doing her thing, perpetually taking in the orphans and waifs amongst the Dregs and raising them as her own, same as she had me.

  Memories of my short childhood consisted almost entirely of me sitting at her feet as she filled my head with stories of the past. Her constant reminisces made me feel like I knew the old starter town and it’s vibrant, chaotic, tangled web of wheeling, dealing, slumming, and stealing.

  As I grew up it got harder to pretend that her words were anything more than wishful nostalgia. I’d tried for a while, at least until the truth finally hit me. It didn’t matter if she was right or not. The world had moved on, and she and the old Dreg guard were too busy trying to hang on to life by their fingernails to change it back.

  “Here’s your cursed ‘bright side’,” I said under my breath to Patch, shielding my eyes and scanning our surroundings. “Ruining the night. Are you ready to make a break for it, if we have to? The shadows are few and far between, so don’t trust them. The glare makes it hard to see anyone coming, so use your ears and the grey stuff pressed between them.”

  Instead of helpfully keeping a low profile and hurrying home beside me, when I turned around I caught her dragging her feet and staring up at the stars. “There’s so many more of them up there than there were last night,” she told me conspiratorially. “I’m certain of it.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I just did.”

  “Shhh,” I hissed, peering off to my left and checking the path ahead of us. The coast looked clear, but that didn’t mean it would remain that way for long. “No more talking unless we have to. At least not until we’re all the way out of Hallow.”

  “You’re the boss.” She happily pantomimed locking her mouth up tight before pressing the imaginary key down into her cleavage with unequaled enthusiasm.

  The best way to admire her useless exuberance was from afar, the way you would a flame or a gloam spider. All three of them were interesting to observe, but dangerous to embrace.

  I pointed to my left. “If we need to run, you’re going that way.” Splitting up would give her the best chance of making it, particularly since I’d gotten pretty good at leading pursuers on a wild Gearblin chase around the city until they gave up.

  “Mmmkay,” she mumbled, pretending her lips were still locked together.

  Tiny Hallow was nothing like the sprawling cities I’d heard of beyond the Barricade. There weren’t many streets, which meant that the overeager VC had a lot more warm bodies than they did areas to patrol.

  It would’ve been smarter for us to turn around and crash at Illgott ‘N’ Games for the night, but I’d much rather get caught and have to grease some palms then admit defeat.

  I guided us northwest, away from the docks, the merchants, and Mother’s hidey-hole in Welldark. There were only six small blocks between us and the edge of town, over by the Significant Fraternity’s rat-infested temple.

  Along the way I noticed that Patch had taken the golden capsule out again. This time she was holding it tightly in both hands. The next time we had to pass beneath one of the many streetlights, she held it up and tried to peer through it as if it were a chicken egg. “I can’t believe my RNG. Can you?”

  Considering we have no idea what’s in there, I think we’re getting more than a little bit ahead of ourselves… “You’re luckier than me, that’s for sure. I’d have put my money in and rolled a 1. What’d you get, anyway?”

  “Do you know what you roll now, too?”

  “Huh?” I cocked my head at her, trying to work out what she was talking about. After a second, I caught on. “Oh, I see. Those glitchy games are all screwed up, remember? Space Paranoids lets me see my rolls, but only for the stuff related to resisting the game’s influence on me.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “Whatever. Let’s just keep moving,” I muttered, annoyed at myself for accidentally feeding into her Hero delusion.

  Patch’s spirits weren’t dampened in the least. She tapped the capsule with her finger and said, “It sounds like there’s some amazing stuff in here.” She even brought it to her mouth and gave it a big, wet kiss. “Maybe something that’ll change everything.”

  “That’s the same thing you said about the keychain with the picture of somebody else’s kids you found beneath the Rift.”

  “Well, it did.”

  “How?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t lose my keys anymore.”

  North again, and we were more than halfway there. If talking in low tones like this kept her moving, so be it. “Patch, you don’t have any keys.”

  Her eyepatch was back in place over one eye, but she didn’t even bat the other. “When I get some, I’ll be ready.”

  “And what about the metal hair clasp you found out there last week? Did that change your life for the better, too?”

  She nodded vigorously, tugging on one of the twin braids that framed her face. “Totally! I used to have to keep my hair out of my eyes by putting it into a ponytail, but now I can part it like this.”

  I staggered, clutching my chest as I faked a massive coronary. My melodramatic performance brought me close enough to her to give my heart a reason to race a little, though when I saw the worry in her face I knew I’d accidentally turned my teasing into something more hurtful.

  “Raze! What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

  “You… were… right…” I gasped, proving once and for all that I always took things too far. Instead of killing the joke, I extended a finger and slowly pointed at her braid. “The hair tie… it changes everything…”

  “Okay, you asked for it.” Before I knew it, she’d grit her teeth and planted her feet. An instant later an expertly thrown punch whistled in my direction.

  I wasn’t Frisky enough to get out of the way, and her leather work gloves offered next to no padding. The shiner she gave me made the stars I’d ignored before explode in front of my eyes.

  Critical Hit!

  Damage: 2

  Damage Type: Physical (Blunt Force)

  Ongoing Effect: You’ll Shoot Your Eye Out - This blow has hindered your vision. All rolls for the next hour that rely on optical input will be made at a penalty of -1.

  Resistance: N/A

  Hit Point Loss: 2

  Hit Points Remaining: 2

  The punch made my knees weak, and I had to grab her shoulders to avoid hitting the deck. “RNGesus, you hit like a truck!”

  “Stop taking the Lord’s name in vain. And I’m sorry I punched you so hard, even though you were being a jerk. I forgot that Heroes could crit…”

  I was reeling, unable to focus on all of her words. “You almost killed me!”

  “Sorry!”

  I heard the scrape of metal against metal a moment before a voice rang out of the night from down the street. “Halt, both of you!”

  Crap. I recognized the ringing timbre of authority that Vigilance Committee members so often used, and this one had mixed in a healthy helping of sanctimonious self-righteousness. I pretended not to hear the command and pushed Patch down the narrow laneway between the walled garden and a two-story dwelling owned by Judge Meritt.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, trying to look over her shoulder as I rushed her along. “That man back there wants to talk to us.”

  “No. ‘That man back there’ saw a Dreg commit an assault on the streets of Hallow. We need to run. Now.”

  “But…” I could practically see Patch’s brain trying to absorb the information. She’d always kept her nose clean, and the very thought that she was in trouble now was a concept so foreign to her that it wasn’t sinking in. “I didn’t… It was an accident!”

  “It does
n’t matter. They see whatever they want to see.”

  40 feet behind us, the Hero turned the same corner we had and skidded to a stop. “Come here, both of you. I wish to have words.”

  Sure you do. Heroes in general and the VC in specific made a point of not lowering themselves to converse with us unless the purpose was to gain experience or do us harm. Dregs found no ‘justice’ in their system, and the versions of right and wrong they believed in left room for them to turn a blind eye to their treatment of us.

  At least once a week one of the bunks in the slums of ‘Neath went empty for good on account of a Hero’s blade or a Judge’s gavel, and the rate was increasing.

  I put my hand on the small of her back and gave her a shove toward the edge of town. “Off you go,” I told her. “Even though he sounds like a pushover, I want you to play it safe. I’ll wrap him around my little finger and see you tomorrow, okay?”

  “I can tell when you’re lying, now. You can’t roll against me and win, Raze.”

  I frowned, trying to sound cavalier. “You’re nuts.”

  Patch grabbed my hand. “Come with me.”

  I smiled sadly. She had the right idea, but her hesitation had meant that we hadn’t sprinted away when we should’ve. “Too late. You go, and I’ll deal with him.”

  “In that case,” she said, rolling up imaginary sleeves her crop top didn’t have. “Let me take him out.”

  Despite everything, that got a laugh out of me. “Just scamper, will ya? I’m trying to get the last of this chivalry out of my blood, and you’re cramping my style.”

  The real Hero was sick of waiting, and I heard his boots on the stone as he strode up the alley behind me, taking his time in an effort to increase my dread.

  Patch narrowed her eyes at me, then flipped the eyepatch down over the left one. “All right. But don’t do anything stupid.”

  “That doesn’t give me a lot of options…”

  “Pinky swear,” she said, holding out her hand.

  “Not on your life. Now get!”

  She finally listened, and I saw her look back at me one last time before turning the corner just as the Hero’s hand slapped down on my shoulder.

  Name: Warwick D’Havilin

  Archetype: Paladin

  Class: Sword Sworn

  Origin: Clear Springs – The Unrivaled Kingdom of Brae Corrin

  Level: 5

  Intellect: 13

  Strength: 15

  Dexterity: 13

  Constitution: 16

  Charisma: 14

  Wisdom: 12

  Hit Points: 76

  He’d touched me, which gave me a window into his stats. Thankfully, peeping like that wasn’t the same as Identifying items on behalf of someone else, so I didn’t have to rattle off his own scores back at him.

  It didn’t take me more than a glance to see that he wasn’t to be trifled with. I put my hands up and made it clear that I was surrendering. “Relax. You caught me. Hurray, and all that.”

  Warwick spun me around forcefully, and I saw his attention stray to the hilt of his sword. He was hoping that I’d give him an excuse to use it.

  “No need for that,” I told him. “You won’t get any trouble from me.”

  He looked the same as all of them did, clean cut and ready for action, not a speck of grime on his cleanshaven face or a smidge of dirt beneath his nails. “You couldn’t even if you wanted to, Dreg.”

  I swallowed a few fiery replies before finally spitting out the words, “True enough.” Just like the elf, he smelled sweet and lovely and I tried not to make it obvious that I was wrinkling my nose in distaste. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing, though. You lot are sure doing a zealous job. Overzealous, you might say…”

  “Watch yourself…”

  I nodded. “Of course. ‘There’s nobody more vigilant than the Vigilance Committee’, that’s what I always say. Why, the streets of Hallow couldn’t be safer with the likes of Sir Warwick on the job.”

  He blinked and looked at me, his thunder well and truly stolen. “How do you know my name?”

  The way to a Hero’s black heart is through their pride. Always has been, always will be. “How do I know of Sir Warwick? All of Hallow’s started to speak highly of you! The town’s blessed to have such a benevolent observer keeping us on the straight and narrow.” The words almost made me gag, but I knew from experience that they’d listen to any honeyed lie or over-the-top compliment, so long as they were the subject matter.

  “Oh. I see. Very well, then…”

  “So I’m free to go, so as to further spread your legend?”

  He pondered that, but shook his head a moment later. I got the feeling that I’d lost a roll, but not by much. “No. That other Gearblin hit you,” he said, pointing after Patch. “And that is forbidden.”

  “Did she?” I asked, aghast. I turned my head ever so slightly to one side to hide the swelling I could feel already tightening my eyelid. “Are you sure? I didn’t notice.”

  “I know what I saw.”

  “Well, it must’ve been an accident. That one wouldn’t trim a flower before it had a chance to bloom.”

  He harrumphed, as only Heroes can. “She committed a criminal act. Wait for me here while I fetch her.” Warwick started to go around me and I promptly stepped into his way.

  The move caught him off guard. Sometimes they couldn’t roll to avoid contact they didn’t see coming, and I managed to get ‘unwittingly’ tangled in his lower limbs.

  “Unhand me,” he growled, reaching down and wasting valuable seconds as he unsnarled us.

  I let go, but I wasn’t quick about it. “Sorry. I panicked. Heroes always put me in such a state of awe.” I turned in the direction Patch had run. “Too bad she’s so fast. I bet chasing her will be a huge waste of your time.”

  I could tell by the rage that washed over his face that he agreed with my calculation. “You helped her get away!”

  “Why would I? You just said that she assaulted me. I can’t be both the victim and in cahoots with the perpetrator, can I?” It was more logic game than deception, and before he could think about it for too long I held my hands out in front of me and tried to calm him down. “She’s crazy, anyway. Certifiable. Plus, as you so astutely mentioned, she’s a Gearblin. More often than not our brains are scattered to the four winds by whatever we’ve last drunk, huffed, popped or snorted. Even if she could answer your questions, you wouldn’t get anything out of her that made any sense.”

  It wasn’t exactly a flawless argument, but I could see him turning it over in his head anyway. “You’re the questgiver that’s usually chained to a desk at the Illgott ‘N’ Games, aren’t you?”

  I nodded. “In the flesh.”

  It was rare that the Heroes looked closely at any of the lesser races, though one of the unfortunate byproducts of my job was that it made me recognizable. If a Hero was ever going to remember a Dreg, it was bound to be the one they’d traded a bunch of rat tails to.

  Warwick nodded slowly. “Can any of the other members of your filthy race fill in for you, if you were to suddenly misplace your freedom or your life?”

  That was a loaded question if ever there was one, but this guy was the same as the rest. None of them were willing to believe that a Dreg could think their way out of a rice paper bag. “I’m the only one,” I told him, and since it was the truth I didn’t have to worry about his damned unbeatable roll uncovering any deception.

  He wrinkled his nose at me. “Which makes you important. Or at least difficult to replace before the Reenactment in a couple of days.”

  I nodded. “And Sanguine would have your head, the one on your shoulders, if you screwed up her plans for a bunch of low-level Heroes standing around looking at the impenetrable doors set into the mountain.”

  “True. How convenient for you.”

  I shrugged. “I guess I’m lucky.” What he didn’t know was that, while my ability to Identify it
ems was technically unique, when I died the ‘gift’ would be auctioned off to the highest Gearblin bidder so that another one of us could acquire it.

  Dregs were nothing more than cogs in the machine, and when we fell Hallow didn’t suffer more than a minor disruption. If the Reenactment wasn’t upon us, I’d be in real trouble.

  Warwick glowered down at me. “What’s your name, creature?”

  “Raze.”

  “Raze?” he repeated skeptically. “That’s a name?”

  “Sure. Here, I’ll use it in a sentence,” I said, my patience reaching an end. He’d already basically acknowledged that he couldn’t kill me without getting into hot water. “One day somebody ought to raze this whole damn city to the ground, and I hope Warwick D’Havilin is in it when they do.”

  His jaw popped open and a couple of the veins in his neck bulged. “Are you suicidal, or is your mind under the influence of something?”

  “Just trying to lighten the mood. Sadly, I’m far too poor for any of that sort of fun.” To prove it, I made a show of turning my pockets inside out.

  I hadn’t been taking this seriously enough, and fate chose that moment to kick me in the nuts as the scrap of paper Patch had given me fluttered to the brightly lit street.

  When it hit the ground, it felt like my heart landed on the street beside it.

  Warwick’s greedy gaze lit up. Before I could pretend to tie my laceless boot and bend to retrieve it, his foot slammed down on the note. If I’d been faster, he’d have broken my hand.

  “What’s this?” he asked, shoving me backward so that he could bend and retrieve it. He plucked it from the ground, turning over in his hands as he inspected it.

  “Did you know that your lips move when you read?” I asked. “It’s quaint.”

  I’d been trying to bait him, but he ignored me. “This knowledge is forbidden. Where did you get it?”

  If I lied, he’d know. If I told the truth though, judging from the look on his face, Patch would go from random Gearblin who’d evaded arrest to dangerous smuggler of secrets.

  “I was distracted at the time, but I’m pretty sure some idiot put it on my desk today.”