Victor of Tucson

Ranish Dar reached down and pulled the rune-inscribed circlet off Edeya’s head, handing it to Lam. “This will only make it harder for her to wake.” He took one of his thumbs, massive beside Edeya’s much smaller form, and gently smoothed some hair away from her face. Standing close as he was, Victor could see the master’s strange, stony flesh bend and compress just like normal skin. It made him wonder why it looked like stone to the eye while behaving like flesh. Would it feel hard if you touched it? Was it resistant to damage, or was it all just a visual artifact of Dar’s exotic species, whatever that might be? While he speculated, Dar took the warm potion from his grip, and it disappeared into some hidden storage device. He said, “She will wake soon. I will give you some space.”

“Thank you,” Lam said, climbing atop one of the tall stools to lean close to Edeya’s face, peering intently at her slightly twitching, fluttering eyes. Victor watched Dar move to the other table and take a seat. He still watched them, and when he caught Victor’s eye, he nodded. Victor knew what the gesture meant—they’d talk after Edeya woke. Victor returned the gesture, then turned back to the others, taking one of Edeya’s slender, limp hands. To his surprise, it was much warmer than the last time he’d held it. He could feel a change in the flesh, a vibrancy that had been absent before.

“She’s in there,” he said. Lam looked at him and nodded; she held Edeya’s other hand. Valla took hold of Edeya’s wrist, stroking it gently with her thumb.

“Edeya?” Lam said. “Wake up, sweet girl.” Victor looked from Edeya to Lam, a little surprised by those words. He’d seen Lam show affection to Edeya, knew she was desperate to help her, but the depth of emotion in those words was a little surprising. Clearly, she loved her, but he wasn’t sure if it was the love of a sister, a mother, or something altogether different. Of course, he wasn’t stupid enough to ask. When Lam gasped, and new tears sprang from her eyes, dripping down her sharp cheekbones, Victor looked back to Edeya and saw that she’d opened her eyes. She blinked several times, and her brow creased in confusion.

In a raspy, scratchy whisper, she asked, “Where are we?”

“You’re safe, Dey-dey.” Lam leaned forward and pressed herself against the young woman, resting her head on her chest. Valla sniffed, and Victor looked to see tears in her eyes, too. He put his arm over her shoulder and smiled when Edeya squinted his way.

“Victor?”

He squeezed her hand. “That’s right, brat.”

“Brat?” Her voice was hoarse, and she cleared it and swallowed, then added. “You’re the brat!” She coughed again and peered down at the top of Lam’s head. “What happened?”

“I feel . . .” She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head briefly. “I feel so weak. I remember floating in darkness. Was I lost at sea? I feel like I was surrounded by water and fog.” Her eyes sprang open, and she said, “What happened with the fire? I remember we were in a keep. It’s all so blurry. Victor was going to have them burn the forest. The undead . . .” As she spoke, her voice grew more and more hoarse, and she cut herself off, coughing so violently that Lam sat up, retaking her hand.

“Hush. I’ll fill you in, but now you should rest.”

“Excellent advice,” Ranish Dar said, his voice loud and sharp like boulders scraping against each other. “Take her to your residence. Feed her. Give her a healing draught. She’ll be fine, physically, in a day or two.”

As her fit subsided, Edeya looked to the voice, and her eyes sprang wide. Her hand gripped Victor’s like she was about to fall off a cliff, and she looked at him. “Victor! Who . . .”

“Don’t worry. He’s a friend.”

“I’ll tell you everything,” Lam said, reaching to scoop her arm under Edeya’s knees, easily lifting her from the table.

“Do you have to carry me? I think I can walk . . .” Edeya’s words trailed off as Victor released her, and she leaned into Lam’s chest.

Lam kissed her forehead. “I’d carry you anywhere, sweet. You’re not heavy.”

“Victor.” Ranish beckoned him over. “We’ll have a talk now. Your companions can await you at their residence. I won’t keep you long today.”

“I’ll stay . . .” Valla started to say, but Ranish cut her words off with a stern shake of his head.

“I’ll speak to Victor alone. It was a pleasure to meet you all. Perhaps our paths will cross again.” He snapped his finger, and a shimmering, misty bird appeared, swooping and trilling delicate, musical cries. “Guide these women to the lower dock and instruct Fregasius to convey them home.” The little misty, glowing bird trilled something that sounded almost like words and swooped over to Valla and Lam, circling them, trailing glowing mist that slowly faded into nothing.

“Go,” Victor said, giving Valla a brief hug. “I’ll be fine. See you soon.” She looked into his eyes for a long moment, then nodded and turned, walking to the door where Lam, Edeya, and the swooping, magical bird waited.

As they walked out, Victor heard Edeya’s sleepy voice ask, “Who . . . is that Valla? But you have wings!”

Ranish interrupted his listening by saying, “Come over here, Victor. It is good news that your friend remembers you all.”

“She’s lost something, though. She should know Valla has wings, and more than a month passed between what she said she last remembered and her . . . injury.”

“That will come. Be pleased that she can speak and knows your name. I’ve seen worse.” He pointed to the stool beside his. “Sit here.” Victor nodded and approached, climbing atop the large stool, just about perfectly sized for his nearly ten-foot frame. “We have much to speak about. You’ve agreed to enter my service as an apprentice, and I appreciate the consternation this has caused you. Would you like to give voice to your concerns?”

Victor wondered if the invitation was a trap. Would Dar use what he said against him? Was a cruel heart lurking in that chest? Was his affable nature with Valla and Lam a show? He’d certainly let his anger flare at least once in Victor’s presence, and he hadn’t exactly been kind to Erd Van. With those thoughts in mind, Victor decided to hold his cards close to his chest. He shrugged. “I was looking forward to some time when I wasn’t running from one problem to the next.”

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“Much of your life has been a trial, hmm?” He watched Victor until he nodded. “If that weren’t true, I wouldn’t be interested in mentoring you. It’s made you hard in ways that Erd Van will never understand. Looking at you, I can see that you’ve felt death’s talons on your flesh, gripping so tightly that you nearly fell through the veil. Hmm?” Victor nodded, images of some of his close calls flashing through his mind—the “boss” of the dungeon near Greatbone, Rellia’s lightning-fast rapier, the Nightbrute Prince, a horde of undead reavers, and the sharpest, most painful one, his time beneath Hector’s veil star.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

“And yet, you sacrifice much for a friend. I can assure you, Erd Van would never do such a thing.” Victor didn’t respond. He didn’t know what Ranish was looking for; did he want Victor to trash-talk Erd? He didn’t care enough about the guy to do so. Ranish didn’t seem bothered by his reticence. “You have much to be proud of; I have the ability to see a great deal about you. Your Cores, for instance. Do you know how rare it is for a non-draconic species to have a breath Core in addition to their primary Energy Core? I can see you’ve done much to advance your bloodline, too. You’ve the blood of an elder race in your veins, and not just a hint of it. What’s more, I can see that you have acquired a legendary Class. It's not unheard of for an iron-ranker to do that, but it’s usually the scion of an ancient family with resources that make even my wealth seem insignificant.”

Victor shifted uncomfortably. It was one thing to dread what this guy would put him through, but having him heap praise upon him made him feel decidedly awkward. Was he supposed to say thank you? “I had plenty of help.”

“Hah! Another thing those lapdogs who come crawling ‘round here for scraps wouldn’t say.” Ranish sighed and stretched his neck, bringing forth loud cracks and pops that sounded like someone snapping pieces of slate in half. “I’m a very busy man, Victor. Think of the obligations you have around the worlds where you’ve traveled and multiply that by a hundred, nay, a thousand. Still, I find I must take time to myself now and then, or I begin to go mad. I begin to react to problems in ways that might seem . . . overzealous. I happen to be enjoying a time like that—some respite from the duties I’ve created for myself around the worlds, and one of my favorite places to come, when I’m using my time selfishly, is here, to Sojourn.”

Victor contemplated his words, thinking about his friends back home, about Olivia and First Landing, about the Ridonne, and even about Zaafor and the Warlord and the promises he’d made to the Degh. He tried to imagine a thousand times as many concerns and failed to wrap his head around the idea. “I think I get it.”

“Well, the reason I’m telling you this is two-fold. One, you should know that demands on your time will always exist, and you’ll have to carve space for yourself and your own desires. That problem doesn’t go away. Two, you should know that I’ll be here, in Sojourn, for perhaps a decade before I get back to my other obligations. When I take time, I take enough to savor it. What that means for you is that I’ll spend some of my recreational time instructing and guiding you, but I’ll also send you places to manage tasks that I feel will challenge and instruct you.”

Victor thought about his words, forcing himself not to react impulsively. Part of him was glad to hear that Dar was going to be around Sojourn for a while and that he was going to be giving Victor things to do on his own, but another part was utterly freaking out at the mention of ten years and an open-ended hint at “getting back to obligations” after that. Just how long did this guy expect Victor to work for him? He’d already upset him once that day when he’d asked. He’d taken it as a show of disrespect. With that in mind, Victor spoke very evenly, trying to avoid lacing his words with any emotion. “Can you give me some idea of how long you expect me to work for you?”

Dar sighed heavily, but his eyes didn’t flare, and he didn’t smash his fist on the table, so Victor felt like he’d managed to avoid pissing him off again. “It’s not a matter of ‘working’ for me, Victor. It’s a matter of learning from me. In the process of which, you will certainly do some tasks that benefit me, but, and I wish you could trust me here, they’ll benefit you more.” He looked at Victor for a long, measured minute, during which neither of them blinked.

Finally, satisfied with whatever he’d read in Victor’s eyes, he nodded and continued, “That said, I am ancient in comparison to you, and I move in a timeframe that likely seems glacial to one so young. In these ten years that I linger in Sojourn, I will relax, contemplate my recent gains, and take amusement in your progress. After that, I will become busy, and our interactions will become less frequent. Decades may pass between our meetings, and during that time, I’ll expect you to make progress, following the guidance I give you. The length of this engagement between you and me will depend entirely on your growth. With any luck, there will come a time when I can be proud to name you as my protégé, and you will need to strike out on a path of your own making.”

“So, a long time.” Victor tried not to sound glum or even to betray any emotion, but something must have shown on his face because Ranish Dar chuckled and reached over to grip his shoulder.

“Is it so bad to learn from a master? What is it that rankles you, Victor? I could list a thousand spirit cultivators who would be singing in the streets for this opportunity.”

Victor tried to smile and nodded, then shook his head, his body unsure what his mind wanted. “I don’t know. It’s something in here.” He thumped a fist to his chest. “Maybe my Quinametzin ancestry or maybe growing up wanting to carve out my own future, but something doesn’t like the idea of such a long commitment. Then, there’s the issue that I’ve already committed myself to other people for things . . .”

“Such as?”

“There are people back on Fanwath who depend on me, but, well, I guess I don’t necessarily have to live there to help them. If could visit now and then?” When Dar graced him with a slight nod, he continued, “There’s also this.” He lifted his bracer and tapped the pink shard of the Degh ancestor stone. “I promised the Degh giants on Zaafor that I’d return and mend their ancestor stone, and,” he grinned fiercely, “I owe the Warlord there an ass kicking.”

Dar let go of Victor’s shoulder and pressed one of his thick, stony fingers against the pink crystal. “Very, very interesting!” He laughed and shook his head. “You think I’d deny you such glory? No, lad, that would be a good lesson for you, if nothing else. As I said, I’ll take some amusement from your progress these next ten years, and during that time, if you feel ready, I’ll quite enjoy seeing you take on a warlord in a barbaric world.”

“I’d also like to hunt down the bruja who stole Edeya’s spirit. She’s on a world filled with undead, and some of them are thousands of years old. I guess I’m not really ready to go there and start throwing shit around, but . . .”

“But you will be! Elder gods! It feels good to talk to someone with some fucking spirit!” Victor’s eyes opened in startled amazement, and he answered Dar’s smile with a fierce grin. The master nodded, narrowed his blazing eyes, and said, “Enough. I must learn more about you, so I’ll give you your first . . . learning task, shall we call it?”

Victor nodded, still a little dumbstruck after hearing the ancient, powerful being cuss. “Sure.”

“Those like me who fancy themselves the lords of Sojourn often partake in competitions with each other. One such contest is a dungeon where we can send our iron-ranked students, children, or sponsored recruits to compete with each other in a dangerous, randomly generated series of challenges. Does that sound interesting?”

“Sure, but how will that help you learn about . . .”

“We will see everything that happens in the dungeon. We designed it through the use of the System stone, so we have some control over the things that happen there. While it’s dangerous, there are safeguards built in. You’ll be given a Lifesaver—a magical device that will transport you to safety if you appear to be near death. It’s not perfect; if someone were obliterated in an instant, the device would not save them, but for someone as sturdy as you, I don’t see much risk in that.”

“Will I have to fight other, uh, participants?”

“There are no rules in the dungeon, but you could just as easily ally with someone.”

“What about Valla, or, I have another friend, a dragonkin . . .”

“No, no, Victor. I’ll not sponsor another; it’s quite costly, and your performance will affect my influence in Sojourn. I have confidence in you, but not so much your friends. I mean no offense, but you’re on a different level than your sweet lady friend. As for your dragonkin friend, I can only offer caution—dragons are dangerous beings.”

“How long do I have?”

“A new challenge begins on the seventeenth of each month. You have several days to relax.” He pushed his stool back and stood. “Now, I’ll give you two assignments to work on. One,” he produced a closed, leather-bound book, “use this Farscribe book to write to me about yourself. Your life, your greatest adventures, your abilities and spells.” When Victor took the book, he nodded and said, “Two, acquire a dwelling in Sojourn. I take it you’re staying at an inn?” When Victor nodded, he continued, “I’ll be helping you build a cultivation chamber, so you’ll need your own place. It would be best if it had access to the actual soil of this small planet—don’t purchase or rent an apartment.”

“Okay.” Victor felt a little numb, a little shell-shocked. How had things moved so quickly? He’d somehow agreed to spend many years helping and learning from this guy, and now he was getting signed up to compete in a free-for-all competition in a dungeon and being sent to buy a house. “Uh . . .”

“What is it? Any questions? I’ll be in touch. If you see my spirit bird, allow it to chirp in your ear, and you’ll hear its words.”

“Um,” Victor’s mind felt scattered, so he blurted the only question that came to his tongue, “I have some magical things to identify. Could you recommend . . .”

“Hah! No, boy. I have things to teach you, the first of which is to figure things out on your own when you can. You may leave. As I said, I’ll be in touch with the details for your entry into the Vault of Valor.”

“Vault of . . .”

“That’s the name of the dungeon. Now, get going. I have an important meeting.” He snapped his fingers, and the spirit bird reappeared. “Show him to Fregasius. He’s to convey him home.” The bird swooped around Victor, rushed to the door, and commenced flitting about, waiting for him. Victor turned to follow it, but Ranish Dar spoke again, “Victor, wait.”

Victor turned back to him. “Yes?”

“Take this,” he flicked something small that glinted like silver his way, and Victor snatched it out of the air. It was a signet ring—a broad silver band with a black gemstone inlaid with a flickering, golden sun that seemed to burn in the depths of the facet. “Wear it. It will grant you certain privileges in this tower of the Arcanum, and, should you run into trouble in Sojourn, people will know to alert me so that I might come to your aid. Do not use it to curry favor in my name, however.” He stared hard at Victor until he nodded. “Good. Take some time to relax and live your life, Victor. You’re going to be very busy soon.”

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