The Dark Lord by Jack Heckel

Author:Jack Heckel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2016-11-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

A LICENSE TO QUEST

For the next hour or so Sam and I ran through Hamlet paying for this and buying that like we were everyone’s favorite rich uncle. I won’t go into the total damage, but safe to say had we been spending real money and not stuff I’d conjured out of a fundamental misunderstanding of probability and statistics, I’d have been angry.

When at last we’d managed to track everyone down and had settled their debts, I offered to buy Sam a well-deserved ale. He would have none of it. “I can’t,” he said with an earnest shake of his head. “I haven’t studied my spells all day, and I have to be ready if you need me again . . . Avery.”

With a spring in his step, he headed back to the tree beside the weaver’s shop to read his spell book. I wasn’t sure if Sam would ever be a talented wizard, but he was a good fellow and I was glad to see his spirits revived.

To revive my own spirits, I decided to retreat to a place where I could drink some spirits. I found Valdara and Drake in the common room of the Bread Dragon Inn and joined them. I know what you’re thinking, But, Avery, inns don’t serve alcohol—remember!

Apparently, this universal rule did not apply to Hamlet, as Drake patiently explained to me when I asked him about it. “Kid, you don’t survive long in a town built on adventurers if you don’t serve something that will get them drunk.”

I was into my second ale, and starting to feel human again, when Rook bustled up, eyebrows bristling vigorously. “What are you all doin’ sittin’ around drinkin’?”

“Hoping to get drunk?” Drake answered for all of us.

The dwarf rolled his eyes. “No time for that, and probably not enough drink in all the town for you inebriates.”

“Lighten up, Rook,” I said in the expansive tones of someone that has a good buzz on. “We’ve been on the road for weeks. What will one day’s rest matter?”

“It’ll matter when we can’t get a license for a quest and get stuck here for the next month waitin’ for the Master to open up shop again,” he rasped in response. “I thought you were in a hurry, but maybe I’m wrong.”

I heard the words he was saying, and I understood them individually, but put together they had made no sense. “What are you talking about, Rook?”

“I’ve been askin’ around, and the only way to get one of the quests around Hamlet is to buy a license from some fella named the Master of the Dungeons,” he answered. “But he only issues them once a month—today—and it’s already afternoon. All the other adventurin’ groups got their licenses first thing this mornin’ . . .” He glared at me. “Before dawn!”

I ignored the gibe. I had other things to worry about, like the Master of Dungeons. I had completely forgotten about him. He was a construct that I’d created in the early days of my experiment to help me regulate access to important items and quests.

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