Kollberg shakes his head. “I don’t see where you’re going with this, Michaelson.”
“Doesn’t matter. He used to be famous, back before I was born. He was one of Mkembe’s sidekicks for a while. The point is, he was living in the Mission District Sorrows-the Single Room Occupancy Temp flops. He was a broke-down old ragface.”
“Pathetic.”
“Not for me. It was the greatest day of my life. You know why? He was just an ordinary fucking guy. You get it? He wasn’t a god. He wasn’t Superman. He was just like any other Temp ragface. Just another loser.”
“So?”
“So he was just like me.”
Kollberg squints. “Ah.”
“Yeah.”
“And so-”
“And so that was the day I discovered I had a shot at this. I’ve been getting ready for it ever since. I’m not going to fuck it up.”
“Fine, then. I’m very glad to hear it. Now, the garrison commander at North Rahnding is a Knight Captain by the name of Purthin Khlaylock-”
Administrator, you’re hearing me, but you’re not hearing me. What I’m trying to get through to you-without any disrespect at all-is that I know more about this shit than you do. Than you possibly can. That’s nothing against you, Administrator. Adventures are just your job. They’re my whole life. There is nothing in my life I care about more than story. There is nothing I know more about than the difference between a good one and a bad one. You’re betting my life and your future on what happens in the next day or two. Let’s go balls-out to make it the Greatest Fucking Show on Overworld. Come on, Administrator. What do you say?”
Kollberg’s lips go back to asshole. “Are you trying to tell me you have a better idea?”
You draw a long, deep breath. The word inspiration has never been so appropriate on so many levels, for with the air comes your true spirit. Your power.
My Power.
“What I’m telling you is that Caine can’t run away.”
“Eh?”
“I know you’ve gone to a lot of trouble to set up this escape, and I appreciate it-”
“It’s not an escape, Michaelson. It’s a rescue. That’s why you’re not going first-hand until you make contact with the Khryllians-”
“Yes, sir. And if you can get the Khryllians coming, you can have them coming all the way to the city, right? Why bother leaving at all?”
“I’m sorry?”
“What if-instead of supposedly crawling out of the vertical city-I were to supposedly crawl into the city? Deep into the city?”
“I don’t follow.”
“I’m with you on the nobody cares about continuity. You’re right. Fuck logic. It’s fantasy; who gives a shit as long as it juices your shorts, right? So:
what if I were to crawl into, say, where the Black Knives stashed all our weapons. . ?”
Again you bring your voice down like a lover’s. “Think about it, Administrator-think about Caine alone in the dark, surrounded by ogrilloi, yanking out these spikes-then finding the bladewand. .”
Kollberg’s eyes light up. “I can see it. I can see it!”
“So a few extra things could have been stashed among the gear as well, huh? You could manage that, right? Another magick weapon or two, maybe some real Healing salve instead of the fake crap. . a few things that nobody told anybody else they had. Now Caine’s got them all.”
“Right. . right. .” Kollberg frowns. “No, wait, it won’t work-the Black Knives have already distributed your belongings. They’re all over the camp.”
You shake your head in crisp dismissal. You have him now, and you know it; the battle is won. The rest, as you will come to enjoy saying, is mop-up.
“Doesn’t matter. Look, we were after the Tear of Panchasell, right? So other people must have been looking for it too-so I’ve crawled in someplace and passed out among the bones of some centuries-dead treasure-hunters. You can manage some dusty old bones, can’t you? Now I’m armed. Shit, with the Winston scanners, you could locate the Tear itself, can’t you?”
Kollberg’s sideways half-shrug half-nod is a shade too noncommittal.
“Oh.” Your lips might make a smile if they weren’t so thin and flat against your teeth. “You already have.”
“Well-”
“It’s really there? It’s not just a legend?”
Kollberg sighs. “It’s really there.”
“Cool. You can drop me in right on top of it-how’s that for dramatic? Semiconscious, I’ve crawled in and passed out right next to the legendary treasure that we’ve given our lives to find?”
Kollberg’s lower lip sucks in between his teeth. “It’s. . not bad. .”
“So there I am among the bones, next to the Tear of Panchasell. . maybe with a hot-shit magick weapon, or something else to give me an edge, huh? I can move okay, even wounded, but if I can get close to Marade, I can get Healed too. Or drop some Healing shit in among the bones-whatever you’ve got on hand; I don’t care. I’ll make it work. All I need is hard intel on where everybody is and how to creep their positions-you can do that through their POVs-and Winston scans can get me the layout of the camp, with guards and whatever. I need to know where the top bitches are, and I want to know who’s got the fucking bladewand, and we can work out the rest of the details as we go along. Whatever else I need, you can just kinda slip in there, where I can be conveniently surprised to find it. . just exactly when I need it most. .”
Kollberg’s nodding along with you, his gaze directed inward, at visions of monitors lit with an imaginary Adventure. “Audience,” he mutters. “Audience. We can sell cubes, but you should really have first-handers for this-”
“That’s why I want you to call Marc Vilo for me.”
Kollberg’s eyes narrow to fleshy slits. “Eh?”
“Businessman Vilo knows people, Administrator. Lots of people. People with what you call exotic tastes.”
“I don’t get what you mean.”
“You’ve heard of him, right? You know how he makes his living?”
“Well-Vilo Intercontinental-”
“Is a front for organized motherfucking crime, Administrator. He can probably fill your first-hander booths just out of his own top boys.”
“Really?” Again, the light in Kollberg’s eyes fades to a frown. “Well-this will be exciting, to be sure, but I hardly think a rescue, even single-handed, can be called exotic-”
“Rescue?” Your laugh is dark as night on the cross. “Fuck rescue. Those people died when they passed their Boards.”
“Michaelson, really-” Kollberg tries to hold onto a disapproving frown while a smile fights for control of his mouth. “I mean, even Marade? Your promise-”
“Guys say lots of shit when their dicks get hard.”
Kollberg’s mouth opens. Then it closes again.
“I learned a lot about myself out there. I learned I’m not who I thought I was. I’m not who I wanted to be.”