Grand Game 515: A Polite Conversation

The den chief’s office was huge but surprisingly lacking in the opulence of the rest of the level. Bookshelves lined the walls, a sturdy leather rug lay underfoot, and magelights floated near the ceiling. It was the large oak desk on the opposite side of the room that dominated the space, though. Sitting behind it and facing the door was a gray-haired man.

Dinara.

The moment my eyes alighted on him, a Game message opened in my mind and screamed for attention.

The target is Dinara, a level 247 trapsmith. 

Warning: this player has been branded a criminal by the sector’s ruling faction, the Triumvirate. Aiding him in any manner may result in charges being brought against you.

I continued my advance into the room, with only the tiniest of hitches betraying my surprise at the Game alert. My stutter, slight as it was, did not go unnoticed, though.

The den chief’s eyes tightened fractionally. “How did you analyze me so quickly?”

Ignoring the question, I strode deeper into the room and seated myself across the slim figure. Dinara sat with his arms casually resting on the table. Moving carefully, I mimicked his pose. 

The den chief didn’t say anything, but the slight upward tick of his lips conveyed his appreciation of the gesture. I didn’t want the encounter devolving into violence—not until I got the answers I sought—and it seemed Dinara was inclined the same way too.

Sitting back, I considered the man. It was early days yet, but my first impressions tallied with Hugo’s: Dinar was dangerously perceptive. I would have to be careful.

“Answer me,” Dinara ordered mildly.

“I’m sure you can work that out for yourself,” I replied evenly. 

“You used a tier five analyze,” Dinara said, with no hint of a question in his tone.

I inclined my head in acknowledgment, seeing no point in denying it. The den chief had already worked out that much for himself and the closer I skirted to the truth, the less likely he was to uncover my other secrets.

“You’re an elite,” he stated flatly.

I shrugged. That, too, stood to reason. Knowing what was coming next, I waited.

Sure enough, an electric tingle rippled over me a moment later.

You have passed a mental resistance check! Dinara has failed to pierce your disguise.

“Boss?” a startled Darkdawn asked from the door. “Want me to stay?”

The den chief’s eyes flickered to the elf. “No. Close the door on your way out. But stay vigilant.”

“Got it.” Slipping out of the room, Darkdawn paused in the doorway. “We’ll be listening,” he warned me before shutting the door behind him.

Ignoring the byplay, Dinara’s gaze slid back to me. “Who are you?”

“Jasiah,” I replied innocently.

The den chief snorted. “We both know that’s not true. Your analyze data is patently false. What spell are you using to conceal your identity? Mimic?”

I chuckled. “Come, Dinara, you know I’m not going to reveal that.”

“Then tell me why you are here,” he demanded.

I cocked my head to the side. “Didn’t your bodyguard tell you?”

The den chief’s eyes hardened. “Don’t take me for a fool. Darkdawn’s report counts for naught. As does Hagfyr’s. Everything you told them was likely lies. But whoever you are, you didn’t come all this way for nothing. So, I repeat: why are you here?”

Not answering immediately, I took a second longer look at the den chief. Dinara was exactly as Hugo had described. A slight unassuming man, who if he were not a player, I would’ve judged to be around fifty. As it was, I imagined that den chief had been around for at least a few centuries and was almost certainly better versed in the Game than me.

Dinara carried no visible weapons, and his clothes, while immaculate, looked ordinary. He wore almost no jewelry to speak of either and despite his obvious ire, his posture remained relaxed and assured—a king in the heart of his demesne. 

Rightly or wrongly, Dinara did not fear me.

“They were not lies,” I replied finally. “I am Nicola’s acquaintance.” I paused. “And I heard you were looking for me.”

The den chief seemed to take my answer at face value. “How did you learn about that?”

“Sintar’s gang,” I replied laconically.

Consternation flickered across Dinara’s face. “Sintar would not have—” Breaking off, he studied me keenly again. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“The rest of the gang?”

“Dead too.”  

Dinara leaned back in his chair, his hands sliding to the edge of the desk but still visible. “And did you think I would be as easy to slay? Is that why you’re here? To kill me?”

“Not at all.”

He frowned. “I admit you confound me. You eliminated Sintar and the men I sent after you, then you come here alone into the heart of my base. Why? What’s stopping me from finishing the job they started?”

I quirked one eyebrow.

“Ah. I see, you don’t think I can.” Dinara shook his head. “Well, believe what you wish, but I assure you, in the Crooked Man only one man rules. Me. Your fate is in my hands now.”

I said nothing, not caring if Dinara believed he was the one in control. 

Dinara smiled. “I see my words fall on deaf ears. But even given your misplaced confidence, you must surely perceive the precariousness of your situation? Why risk coming here in the first place?”

“Because I want answers.”

Dinara studied me inquisitively. “And what makes you think you’re entitled to any?”

I tossed him my underworld token. “This for one.”

The den chief caught the chit easily. Opening his palm, he inspected it carefully. “Who gave this to you?”

“Nicola.”

Dinara blinked slowly. “Of course,” he murmured. “The timing is unfortunate, though.” He slid the token back to me. “If I’d known you were a member of the underworld before this, it might have changed things. Now, it’s too late. I’ve already accepted the commission.” His eyes glittered. “And I always fulfill my commissions.”

Now we were getting to the heart of the matter. “A commission to secure my death,” I mused, deliberately placing the darkest possible interpretation on the nature of his interest. “And here I thought the underworld did not deal in death.”

“The commission is for your capture, not death,” the den chief replied stiffly.

“Hmm. So, you say.” I leaned across the table. “Who is paying you?”

Dinara took a long time answering. “I suppose that—” he glanced at the chit still on the table between us—“earns you the right to an answer on that much at least.”

Patiently, I waited.

“The commission is from Tyelin.”

I exhaled softly. Things were starting to fall in place. The puzzle was far from complete though. “What does he want with me?”

Dinara shrugged. “I don’t know, nor did I bother asking. Blythe’s envoy is willing to pay handsomely for you. And in the end, that is all that matters.”

“What did Tyelin offer you?”

“Enough questions,” Dinara said, his expression turning impatient. “I’ve already been more obliging than necessary. I will not tell you more.”

“Was it, by any chance, a sum of two hundred thousand gold?” I asked, ignoring his dictate.

The older man’s eyes narrowed. “Who told you? It couldn’t have been Sintar. He didn’t know.”

Sliding a thin slip of parchment across the table, I sat back. “I know because of this.”

The den chief let the promissory note lie where I left it, yet he did not fail to register what it was—nor the number ‘two-hundred thousand’ etched boldly upon it. “Where did you get that?” he asked, his eyes darkening.

“From Tyelin,” I replied offhandedly. “As payment for services rendered. Nicola was acting as my intermediary on the matter, which I gather is why Tyelin had you following him.” I paused. “I’m guessing your commission was also for all the items on my person?”

“Yes,” Dinara said in a clipped tone, making the same connections I had. 

Blythe’s envoy had acted more shrewdly than I expected. Exploiting my reliance on Nicola, he’d used him to get to me. And the beauty of it was that Tyelin’s commission wouldn’t leave him any further out of pocket than he already was. If Dinara managed to fulfill it, then instead of me collecting on the two hundred thousand gold, Dinara would, and as an added bonus, the envoy would also get his looted legendary items back.

The question, though, was that the sum total of Tyelin’s calculation? Or was there more to the matter that I was not seeing? There were other considerations too. Like, for instance, how did Tyelin know I’d be—

“So, the little snot played me,” Dinara mused.

I glanced up at the den chief. “It seems so,” I agreed.

He sighed. “It does not change things, though.”

“Oh?”

Instead of responding, Dinara reached out to the underworld token and touched it lightly.

Your underworld token has been updated. 

You have been designated a journeyman rogue by den chief Dinara, marking you as a full member of the underworld. 

My gaze flickered downward in time to spot the numeral “1” stamped on the top side of the chit change to a “2.”

“What was that for?”  I asked, my brows rising.

“Consider it compensation for what I must do next,” Dinara murmured. 

I held his gaze. “You still intend on fulfilling Tyelin’s commission then.”

He nodded. “I do.” 

“Why?”

The den chief sighed again. “Because if there is one thing that’s sacrosanct in the underworld, it’s a commission. If word got around that I reneged on a deal, I’d be done for.”

I rubbed my chin. “Have you considered the risks?”

Dinara’s lips quivered in amusement. “From where I’m sitting there aren’t any.”

“You’re a criminal,” I said bluntly. “When I kill you, you’ll end up in Nexus’ safe zone and never make it out again—at least not as a free man. The knights will spawn kill you until your final death.”

“If you kill me,” he pointed out.

“Is that a chance you’re willing to take?”

“It’s a chance I must take.”

It was my turn to sigh. “I see.” Sweeping the token off the table, I returned it to my backpack. “What about the whole induction thing?” I asked suddenly. “Isn’t there supposed to be one before I can become a full thieves guild member?”

Dinara barked a laugh. “Brazen, aren’t you?”

I smiled. “I’ve been called worse.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Reaching into his pocket, the den chief extracted a pamphlet and handed it to me. “Read that, and you’ll be inducted.”

“Sounds easy enough,” I murmured, storing the item away.

He grinned. “It is. You’re bypassing all the difficult tests that come before. No small concession on my part, I may add.”

“A gesture I will not forget, I promise,” I said with the same air of affability he had.

“Good,” Dinara pronounced, his hands still resting near the desk’s edge. “Then shall we get down to business?”

I held up my hand for patience. “One last thing.” I gestured to the promissory note. “Can I have my money please?”

Dinara gaped at me, momentarily flummoxed by my audacity. “I think not.”

“Why not?” I challenged.

“That’s my money,” he retorted, his veneer of politeness disappearing.

“No, it’s not,” I countered instantly. “It’s Tyelin’s.”

He stared at me.

“Think about it. What do you have to lose? If you capture me after this—as you seem certain you can—you’ve lost nothing but a bit of time exchanging that note for gold. And if you fail and I get away? It’s Tyelin who bears the cost, not you. He will still have to pay you if you complete your commission.”

“When I complete the job,” Dinara retorted automatically, “not if.”

But despite the den chief’s protest, a gleam had appeared in his eyes, and I could tell he was giving serious consideration to my proposal—as I suspected he might. He hadn’t sounded too happy about being played by Blythe’s envoy earlier.

 “Assuming I do as you ask,” Dinara said, looking up at me again, “I take it you don’t intend on giving yourself up thereafter?” 

I chuckled. “If that’s your way of asking if I’m going to surrender, then the answer’s no. You won’t take me alive. If at all.”

Dinara smiled—a little too toothily, I thought. “I’ll fulfill your request. As a den chief, I’m obligated to do so after all. What currency do you prefer?”

“Bags of stygian powder will do nicely,” I replied. 

Dinara’s brows rose. “Interesting choice.”

Removing a second promissory note, I placed it beside the first. “And while you’re at it, exchange that for me, will you?”

Laughter bubbled in Dinara’s eyes, but this time he chose not to comment. Leaning across the desk, he swiped both notes, and a moment later two hefty pouches appeared in their place. “Your payment in full, exact to the gram.”

You have lost Tyelin and Nicola’s promissory notes.

You have acquired 2.12 kg of stygian powder.

Although I was curious about how he’d managed to measure out the exact quantity needed in such a short span of time, I refrained from inquiring. I’d gotten everything I’d come for, and there was no point in pushing things further.

“Thank you,” I murmured, dumping the two pouches in my bag of holding.

Dinara inclined his head. “Now, is that all? he asked sardonically. “Or is there something else I can do for you today?” 

“You could let me go,” I quipped.

The den chief grinned. “Why would I do that? You are in the center of my…” 

Dinara kept speaking but I stopped paying attention. My focus had swapped to something else—his hands.

They were moving again. 

The motion was slow and smooth and ordinarily, it would not have impinged on my awareness but throughout the conversation, I’d made certain not to lose sight of them.

Dinara was a trapsmith.

Not a pure combat Class by the sounds of it. Yet, he continued to evince no nervousness at being alone in a room with me—an unknown player who was quite possibly higher-ranked than him. I didn’t believe his calm confidence was feigned either. 

All this told me one thing.

Dinara’s office was trapped to the nines. And the moment the den chief triggered his ambush, I was a dead man.

Which was why I had to act first. 

Palming the remote trigger concealed in my left hand all this time, I pressed down on it before Dinara’s hands could slip off the desk.

You have activated a trap.

You have activated a trap.

You have activated a trap.

The building shook as explosions rocked the perimeter of the building.

Dinara froze. “What was that?”

I grinned. “A signal.”

Realization dawned in the den chief’s eyes. “You didn’t come here alone.”

I shook my head, playing for time. Any second now… C’mon Shael!

A tier 6 concealment barrier has been disabled.

An adept dampening field has been disabled. 

Your tier 1 to 4 mana, psi, and stamina abilities are no longer inhibited.

“No, I did not,” I replied and, releasing the psi I held ready, blinked away.