Women. It was so like them, ruining a perfect money spinner on a mere whim.
"Well," the virtual cop's sarcastic voice broke the silence at our table. "I can attest that services have been rendered to seventy-three customers. The rest are advised to cancel the deal as unnecessary and unavailable. A notification from the Control Department has just been sent to the customers' addresses.
"What do you mean, cancel the deal?" I demanded. "The services were rendered in full. All the customers were dedicated to Macaria at the stated time and place."
The cop shook his head, smiling sweetly. "My investigation has shown that the paid dedication took place in violation of the goddess' will. I have in my possession a video corroborating this conclusion. Macaria publicly denounced any and all middlemen and personally dedicated everyone who so wished. You had nothing to do with it, which renders your charges unjustified."
What was that now? I cast a helpless glance at Chris who made a helpless gesture.
The cop beamed, suddenly very pleased with himself. "What will your office AI say to that? What's the probability of a successful appeal?" He wasn't upset by not getting the answer he wanted. With a sarcastic salute, he disappeared in a portal flash.
Life was a bitch. First it sent you a cop who could be Tavor's big brother for all I knew. And then it sent you another female canine, no names mentioned for fear of her sensing the full range of my emotions.
Talk about gratitude. I pulled her out of oblivion, and the first thing she did was sweep the Temple clean of tons of mithril and other artifacts. And in less than twenty-four hours, she graced me with another blunder, this time for a million and a half bucks! This woman had a talent for being a nuisance.
I opened the auction and stared at it with a silent groan. The number of automatically processed complaints had already reached seven hundred and counting. The consumer rights protection worked without a glitch, making mincemeat out of the dodgy auction vendor.
What a bunch of jerks. Good job that the first seven hundred thirty grand had already been released into my account as was the Vets' million. Some of the unlucky first seventy customers were cheeky enough to contest the transaction but they had no chance in hell. Some consolation, I suppose.
The financial question had once again raised its ugly head. I just had enough cash to pay off the federal tax and all the current costs, but there was no way I could pay my first installment on the castle. Oh, well. Easy come, easy go. I still had a couple more ideas up my sleeve. I could still cook something up... provided Macaria didn't interfere.
Women. Having said that, she did look a sight. Taali, my sniper girl, where are you?
Chapter Seventeen
The morning of the new day came late, largely due to the rain that hadn't stopped for the last twelve hours. The heavy clouds scraped their bellies against the flagpole over the donjon, their grayish haze enveloping the Vets' clan banner that hung off the rooftop like a wet cloth. Looked like I was grounded.
That was actually the first rain I'd seen here. At least they didn't have seasonal changes in this land of eternal summer laced with occasional instances of sunny autumn and blossoming springtime. If you happened to fancy snow or scorched desert, that wasn't a problem, of course: plenty of desirable locations here in every stage of exoticness. AlterWorld had something for everyone provided they paid for it: from a mammoth safari in the tundra to those wishing to add a lava-living salamander to their trophy cabinet.
I stumbled out of bed and ordered some breakfast, then pushed open the wide mosaic-pane window and, pulling my soft chair closer, began watching the raindrops' incessant play. Water and flame, the two things that hypnotize you allowing you to relax and forget your mundane troubles—be it the monotony of the surf washing over a sandy beach or the quivering dance of a candle flame.
With a cautious knock at the door, the servant girl rolled in the breakfast trolley. Wonder why they had set her character to being so humble? Was it that their majordomo was a Victorian type who believed that domestics should fade into the woodwork and be neither seen nor heard?
I lifted the heavy silver lid and flared my nostrils in anticipation. An enormous plate of Russian salad and some saucers containing extra cream and mayo. Yes, Russian salad for breakfast, so what? The castle chambermaids could see right through me: they knew very well what breakfast choice guaranteed them a tip of a gold coin and they weren't going to overlook my weakness. No idea what NPCs would need money for but their joy at seeing gold was genuine when they stashed the coins away into their little secret pockets. Were they saving money for buying themselves out? Which was why I was on a Russian-salad diet to a degree. Even when I ordered a barbecue dinner, I was bound to find a little bowlful of the salad lurking somewhere on the tray, the servant girl's stare watchful and just a tad hopeful. I had to live up to every pretty face's expectations: the coin would disappear into the depths of their cleavage, and the salad, into the depths of my dependable digital stomach.
Having finished off the main course, I poured a hearty dose of cream and sugar into my coffee and habitually turned to my morning mail.
Two raid buffs had already sold making me a hundred grand richer. Bids for the Inferno portal had hit two hundred grand. Excellent. I also found some responses to my shield removal offers. Predictably, what the vendors wanted from me were guarantees, evidence and discounts. Among them, a letter from the Minediggers clan breathed anger and hatred. They didn't seem to worry much about the money. Their message read:
Agreed. Will close the deal via the auction through an agent. When can you remove the shield?
This was the kind of businesslike approach I liked. But in any case, before risking my own skin and anonymity, it might be worth trying to transfer the spell to a scroll. That would considerably limit my chances of blowing my incognito, at the same time removing most of the customers' questions. A scroll was exactly what it was: a scroll, no personal factors and no dirty tricks. So I decided against answering them on the spot. Instead, I opened Wiki in search for a skill that had suddenly proved to be so useful.
Glory be to the gods—calligraphy turned out to be a skill and not a profession. That saved me dozens of hours and thousands of gold I'd have had to spend in order to be able to create my own High Spell scrolls. In this case, they had used another restricting tool: the rarity and high cost of the ingredients necessary. The skill itself you could learn for a symbolic fifty gold from the Chief Scribe of the King's Library in the City of Light. Whom I could go and see straight away.
I walked downstairs to the Portal Hall hoping to hitch a ride to the city. The guard on duty turned out to be Porthos the Wizard who sat there in a long-suffering pose, hiccupping, his stare fixed on a mana vial. On the wall over his head hung a newspaper cutout saying,
The first case of heartburn among the perma players: How long till we get toothache?
Porthos raised the eyes of a sick cow. "Where to?"
"City of Light. The City Library."
He shrugged. "Couldn't do it even if it were the red light strip. It's the basic portal to the main square. I'm not the Porters guild impersonated. Don't expect me to have five thousand exit points."
"The square is all right," I didn't want to argue. The main thing was, he didn't have any questions which meant my right of passage was still valid. Which was good news.