To bears, she added boots as something to be thinking about. Zakir was a big lumbering man, but Sayed the graduate student was a good inch shorter than Zula. She made up her mind to have a look at what was on his feet the next time he emerged from his tent.
LOTTERY DISCOUNTZ HAD now spent enough time loitering just above the lower reaches of the trading pit to give his owner a loose understanding of how it all worked. He’d been foxed, at first, by the fact that T’Rain was wired for sound. The easiest way to communicate with characters in one’s immediate vicinity was simply to talk. But there was, in addition, an old-school chat interface. You could type little messages, like the Internet pioneers of yore, and they would appear in scrolling windows on the screens of anyone who was listening. It was plainly the case that Marlon and the rest of the da G shou couldn’t live without it. So the next time Csongor focused his attention on the money-trading pit, he experimented with turning on the chat interface. For one thing he’d noticed about the place was that, for a trading pit, it was strangely quiet. It was visually loud, and ridiculously active, but almost no one was speaking.
It all became clear when he interrogated the chat interface and discovered that there were no fewer than a dozen discrete channels to which he could listen here. Doing so, he was treated to waterfalls of jargon-laden statements in as many separate windows.
Snarph: WTS RG 50 BUX PP NOW
Opening a browser window atop his view of the game, he did some googling and learned how to translate such utterances: “WTS” meant “want to sell,” “RG 50” meant that the quantity for sale amounted to fifty or so pieces of Red Gold, “BUX” meant that Snarph’s player wanted American dollars (other commonly seen options being “EUR,” “LBS,” “YEN,” and “RMB”), “PP” meant that he wanted to clear the transaction using PayPal, and “NOW” meant the obvious.
Working laboriously from a translation key that he found on a wiki, he typed in
Lottery Discountz: WTS IG XX BUX WU 1HR
Which meant “I wish to exchange a yet-to-be-divulged amount of Indigold for dollars in about one hour, settling the transaction by means of a Western Union wire transfer.”
But he did not hit the return key, which would have broadcast the message to all the heavy-hitter gold buyers in the deepest recess of the pit—the channel into which he’d been typing. He, a complete nobody, was proposing to launch a transaction worth (at least) hundreds of thousands of dollars, using Indigold pieces that he did not actually have in hand yet. He had already seen other would-be sellers, making much less unusual propositions, being hounded down as mere mischief makers and slain on the spot. Worse yet—since death, in T’Rain, was only a temporary inconvenience—he might get exiled permanently.
So he waited and watched. Because there was an alternative to broadcasting on a channel: you could send the message privately to a specific individual. He only needed to find the right one. And now that he had discovered the chat interface and broken its code, he was beginning to feel he had some plausible hope of doing so. To begin with, he could ignore all the channels except the ones used by the highest of high rollers. Once he had closed all those windows, he began to look for lines that had the right sorts of codes in them. A particularly appealing one being
Dogshaker: WTB IG 2 EUR WU NOW
By mousing over the characters in his field of view, Csongor was able to identify this Dogshaker, a distinguished-looking K’Shetriae merchant in gleaming purple robes—perhaps a fashion statement intended to emphasize the fact that he dealt in the ultra-high-value Indigo coins. After a minute or so, this Dogshaker was approached by another character who apparently had Indigold to sell, and it became plain from their body language that they were whispering to each other. This meant that they had established a private chat channel and were now using it to negotiate terms. The negotiation appeared to stretch out over several minutes, which made Csongor somewhat anxious. But in due time they shook hands with each other and went their separate ways, the seller climbing up out of the pit and wandering off while the buyer remained where he was.
All of this reconnaissance had consumed a considerable amount of time, during which Marlon and James had been shouting at each other almost nonstop across the café, apparently helping each other negotiate some incredibly challenging set of obstacles, ambushes, and setbacks. Their epic adventure seemed to have driven away business at first, as the sword-and-sorcery-themed quest seemed to have destroyed the erotic ambience being sought by the mongers. Csongor had been a bit concerned that they might be thrown out of the establishment. But Yuxia had been at work distracting the proprietor, not so much by charming as by confusing him. When that began to wear thin, she had moved on to plucking money out of James’s wallet and purchasing “LDs”—Lady Drinks—shockingly overpriced beverages that were apparently the fiscal mainspring of the local hospitality industry. Thus Marlon and James had been left free to prosecute their virtual adventure. But of late there had been a lull, and when Csongor finally pulled his head out of the game for a moment to ask why, James informed him that they had fought their way to a ley line intersection and were even now in transit to Carthinias.
Now or never. Csongor created a new chat window, an invitation to set up a private conversation between Lottery Discountz and Dogshaker.
“How many Indigo do you have?” he called out.
“Twenty,” Marlon answered.
Lottery Discountz: WTS IG 20 BUX WUWT NOW
After a few moments’ pause, he saw a response:
Dogshaker: WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE.
Csongor, a bit nonplussed, typed back,
Lottery Discountz: The pleasure is mutual.
Dogshaker: You don’t have it on you.
Lottery Discountz: My friend is bringing it.
Dogshaker: But your message said NOW.
Lottery Discountz: They are coming on LLI at this moment.
Dogshaker: They have muscle? Tempting robbery targets.
Lottery Discountz: Some. Maybe not enough.