Chapter 7

  Dalex looked between the guards and the ragged people in line. It wasn’t just Kari that looked impoverished and smelled like he hadn’t showered in days. Only the two guards, a man and a woman, both apparent beast people with wolf ears, wore well-maintained leather armor and carried stiff-looking spears with shiny tips. The nature of the situation was becoming clear.

  “That’s fine,” Dalex said. “I’m happy to wait in line.”

  Guards and peasants alike looked at him like he might alternatively strike them or vomit a flock of pigeons. Maybe it would be better if he just went inside.

  “You know what, I won’t bother you fine folks any longer.” He walked to the front of the line but then stopped, deciding he would take advantage of the awkward tension. “Quick question.” He pointed at the beastman. “What do you call yourself?”

  “Bolor, Lord Human,” the guard said, his tone uncertain.

  “I mean your people. Your race, if you will.”

  This did not help Bolor’s uncertainty. He probably thought Dalex was trying to trick him.

  After a moment, he answered, “Beastkin.”

  “Makes sense.” Dalex pointed to the line of peasants. “And them?”

  The other guard, clearly impatient with this line of questioning, said, “They’re elves.”

  “Right, of course, yes, thank you.” Dalex spun around and walked through the gate, calling over his shoulder. “Sorry to bother you. Go about your business. Be good to each other.”

  He hurried into town and found a quiet alley to lean against a grubby brick wall and collect his breath.

  “You sure blend in,” Seventh said.

  “And you sure are sassy for a {construct},” Dalex shot back.

  “I would prefer if you called me be my proper designation.”

  “Fine, you’re sassy for an [android].”

  Dalex couldn’t stop thinking about that scruffy line of elves. He wanted to focus on the fact that he had talked to an actual elf, but instead the unfolding hierarchy of this world—or at least this part of it—dominated his mind. Humans on top, elves on the bottom, and beastkin somewhere in between. As he peaked out of the alley to watch the traffic passing on the main street of town, he saw a lot more elves like Kari; disheveled, tired-looking, and not nearly as smartly dressed as the few beastkin walking among them.

  Only the beastkin carried any noticeable weapons. He didn’t see any other humanoid races distinguishable from the other two. As far as he could tell, he was the only human around.

  “How is this possible?” Dalex asked. “I’ve seen pine trees. I can kind of believe I would find something like a pine tree here. But elves and humans with animal characteristics are fictional. This is the same universe as my own. The same galaxy. Not an alternate dimension.”

  “You believe they are fictional,” Seventh piped up. “Your Benefactors have been investigating the Gaia-BH1 system for more than two-thousand years. It is possible a description of these humanoid beings made it into your folklore.”

  “It took them two-thousand years to realize this place had {adamantine}?”

  There was a pause on Seventh’s side. “As I said, it is a time-consuming process.”

  Suddenly, the twenty-five years Seventh had given him to do his job didn’t seem like a very long time. Dalex pulled away from the wall and brushed off some of the grime. He still wore the white shirt and black pants Seventh had given him on the E7. His wardrobe probably hadn’t done him any favors with first contact. He didn’t wear anything like what these people wore.

  “First step,” Dalex said, “I need a new outfit. I stand out like a sore thumb in this synthetic polyester t-shirt.”

  “It is, in fact, a near-perfect cotton replica,” Seventh contradicted him. “But you are correct. Your armor can adjust your appearance to mimic the local populace. I suggest you base your choice off of one of the upper class of beastkin.”

  Dalex said, “{Inventory},” and sure enough, below his equipped clothing was an option for [holographic garment projection]. He scrolled through the options available.

  All of the clothing options were exact copies of outfits he had seen in his brief time among these people, replicated perfectly in their shabbiness for the elves and moderate wealth for the beastkin. He could mix and match the elements at will. In the end, he selected a beastkin wearing a hat so he could somewhat hide his ears. As far as Dalex could tell, the ears were the major indicator of race these people went by, as their tails weren’t always visible. He didn’t like the moniker {beastkin elite}, but from the way the two groups acted, it was accurate.

  These clothes would do for now, but, once he earned some of whatever passed for money in this society, he would buy the real thing. [Illusory armor] was cool, but clothing wasn’t all about what other people saw. Dalex had spent too many years in a smock not to seize this chance to experiment with the fashion of a foreign world.

  Suitably disguised, he went back to the street and started walking, intending to explore the breadth of the town. It gave off a frontier feel, with muddy streets and hastily erected wooden structures. A few of the bigger buildings were brick, and enough of the beastkin draped themselves in moderate finery to demonstrate a connection to comfort. Some of the beastkin didn’t look wealthy, though all were clean.

  None of the elves looked anywhere approaching well off. They avoided walking near the beastkin and didn’t congregate in groups larger two. Dalex saw two other round-eared humans. At first he thought they might be from Earth, but Seventh told him their physiology was slightly different than Earth humans, making them native to this realm.

  They walked down the middle of the street with entourages of beastkin attendants and elven servants. Everyone not in a human’s retinue fell over themselves to bow when a round-ear passed.

  And then it occurred to Dalex that some of the elves following the humans probably weren’t just paid servants, and his appraisal of this civilization grew worse. But he also considered that he probably shouldn’t be surprised. No era of human history was without slavery. Why should this corner of the galaxy be any different?

  “Great,” Dalex muttered to himself after the second human walked past, flaunting his slaves, “I actually get a chance to observe an honest to God elven civilization and it’s under the boot of a bunch of racist, snobby humans. It’s actually a nightmare.”

  “That is not correct,” Seventh said. “In fact, your status as a fellow human means you will likely gain easier access to information about this world and potential clues in our search for benefine.”

  “Oh, Seventh,” Dalex said, not bothering to hide the dismay in his voice. “I thought you were better than that.”

  “To be clear, the enslavement of a living being is a reprehensible act. I believe that and so do your Benefactors. However, the oppression of a minority race is irrelevant to our task.”

  Dalex gritted his teeth. That response annoyed him more than her previous indifference.

  “There are more precious things here than benefine,” he hissed, and he left it at that. “But you’re right about one thing. I’m not learning anything new just watching.”

  The signage around the town made little sense to him. Lots of different boards and posts on or above the main street displayed the local language, but Dalex only saw gibberish. When he asked why his armor could translate speech but not the written word, Seventh explained that most of the words he had seen so far could only be proper nouns with little context and so were momentarily indecipherable.

  Dalex picked a brick building at random and walked in. He put one foot in the door and found himself face to face with a pack of six armed men and women on their way out. Three beastkin with varying ears and tails stood in front of three elves. All of them carried a weapon of some type, whether it be a sword, staff, or bow with a quiver of arrows. The elves looked healthy and were just as heavily equipped as the beastkin.

  “Pardon me,” Dalex said, tipping his hat and stepping out of the way.

  “Our mistake, Lord Human,” the lead beastkin said, recognizing him for what he was immediately. Her voice was neutral and polite. Like the soldiers Dalex had seen around town, the group’s leader also bore wolf ears and wolf’s tail. Perhaps the more wolfish of her race made the best fighters. She gestured for him to enter. “After you.”

  Dalex grimaced. So much for being inconspicuously human. He decided not to play chicken with her and quickly shuffled through the door. The beastwoman towered over him. He felt her eyes on the back of his neck as he passed under her. It was not a comfortable stare. All of her party were imposing and large, even the slimmer elves. They wore similar clothes and armor which Dalex took to be a sort of uniform. On their breast pocket, each sported a pin in the shape of a canine skull. Dalex wanted to call it a wolf, but it might have just been a dog. The three elves wore the same pin, but with elf ears sticking out of the side of the accessory.

  Once Dalex was out of the way, the three beastkin gave him a polite nod and departed the building. The elves kept their eyes downcast as they passed him to follow their comrades. He could honestly say he liked the frosty attitude of their leader, but the effect was ruined by the subservience of the elves. Either way, it felt good to see someone looking down on humans in this world.

  “Lord Human,” a voice came from deeper in the building. “I am honored by your presence. How may I serve you?”

  Dalex turned around and took in the interior of the building for the first time. A spacious but somewhat plain armory surrounded him. Swords and shields hung from the walls. A suit of armor held up by a wooden mannequin stood in the corner. A thicket of spears, staves, and gnarled old sticks was piled next to it. A line of unstrung bows rested on a tabletop next to a barrel of arrow shafts.

  Most of the weapons were displayed alongside scraps of wood carved with the foreign language, but after a brief examination, some of the words morphed into English. It started with {iron sword} and {bronze-tipped spear} but soon included numbers he quickly realized indicated the quantity of curreny required to purchase the item. Presumably, the system in Dalex’s armor was translating these words and concepts as it gained more context.

  A bear-eared man—if Dalex knew his animal ears—stood behind a wooden bar staring at him with a pasted-on smile. He certainly carried the bulk of a bear.

  The shuffle of feet behind Dalex made him jump. He whirled around to see another wolf-eared guard posted just inside the door. The young beastkin’s eyes widened when he realized he had surprised the human.

  “My humblest apologies, Lord Human,” he said. “I did not mean to startle you.”

  This “Lord Human” thing was getting very old very quickly. Dalex gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. You’re doing an admirable job of keeping us all safe.”

  That put a smile on the guard’s face, which Dalex was glad to see, even if he knew the boy’s pleasure came from a perverted gratification in finding favor in the eyes of a master. He let the poor kid alone and walked up to the person he assumed to be the shop’s owner.

  “The name’s Dalex,” Dalex said. “How do you do?”

  “Well enough,” the bear-eared beastkin said, offering no more than a polite greeting.

  Dalex pointed out the door in the direction of the departed wolf beastwoman and her compatriots. “Who were they just now?”

  “Just some regulars getting ready for a mut hunt. Are you looking for anything in particular? I can’t say I carry much in the way of publicized equipment.”

  Dalex opened his mouth to question the shopkeeper further on “mut hunts,” but stopped, mouth hanging open. His curiosity immediately switched subjects.

  “Publicized equipment?” he asked. “What’s that?”

  The shopkeeper kept his smile but narrowed his eyes slightly. “I’m sorry, my lord. Are you asking to see my stock?”

  “I’m asking what publicized equipment is.”

  Now the shopkeeper’s stubby ears twitched. The floor under the young guard’s feet creaked. Dalex guessed he had asked a stupid question. That didn’t mean he would let these two get away with answering him with blank stares and judgmental thoughts.

  “What’s your name, good sir?” Dalex asked.

  “Ganbold,” the shopkeeper said warily.

  “Good to meet you, Ganbold,” Dalex said. “It’s not a test. It’s exactly what you’re thinking. I am an imbecile, and I need you to explain it to me. What is publicized equipment?”

  Ganbold’s smile took on a genuine arc. “Very well, then. Publicized equipment is a weapon or item that is, um, understood to elicit a particular effect. I apologize, Lord Human, I don’t think I have ever actually had to explain this to anyone.”

  “You’re doing just fine,” Dalex said. “Drop the ‘Lord Human’ thing, too. We don’t need it here.”

  That made the shopkeeper frown. He leaned right to look around Dalex at the guard. The boy just shrugged.

  “What kind of effects?” Dalex pressed.

  Scratching his scalp, Ganbold went on, “Well, all I have in stock are publicly sharper blades. A few swords and an axe. Oh, and the other day the town watch dropped off a confiscated knife that impels a mild truth telling desire on any poor soul unlucky enough to lose blood to it.”

  Dalex felt a pleasant tingling in his chest. He was just about ready to ask the question foremost in his mind, but one more hurdle remained.

  “And what other kinds of effects might this sort of equipment come with?”

  “The most popular are weapons that spit fire. Anyone with brains pairs those with fire-repellent armor.”

  There it was. Something suitably fantastical to justify Dalex’s next question.

  “So, you’re saying these are magical weapons?”

  “Aye, I’ve heard them called magical.”

  Dalex slapped the top of the bar between him and the shopkeeper with his palm. “Hot damn! Tell me more.”