Chương 305: Doing Without

I was watching for a Suthie Vanderbolt situation. I don't know, maybe one of the Conservatory girls is a mana-warrior with a runed hurley. Or about to do a Hulk transformation. Or worse, a magical girl. I watched the other team, but their label did not change to "The rest of the Cliffside Conservatory Camogie Team" the way it did when I separated them from Vanderbolt. Maybe I'll get lucky, and Nathan's gambler friends just bribed the referee to turn the game against us.

But somehow, I don't feel like my luck, or his plans, is going to steer towards an outcome so commonplace as that. No, we get the weird shit, every time. In any case, I'm getting some familiar vibes. And just as I was confronting those, I got the worst possible confirmation. [Mission Checkpoint: Learn to Do Without. Rival Path. Reward 20 XP, Stat Gain] Not a quest checkpoint. Those are for love interests. No, 'mission checkpoint' is a phrase that I normally only see when I'm addressing the game's core story.

Such as the Cachexia, or the nine-house coalition. And this one has never come up in the main game, it's not something Nathan faces. Apparently, it's specific to the Rival Antagonist. Which means that it's something that the goddess whipped up specifically to screw with me. And of course my brother is involved. Wait, did he deliver a goddess mission? Is she using him to set up my rival-specific plotline? Or did she just decide to offer me rewards for surviving the next round of Nathan's Backstabbing Game?

Is she steering him, or is she just following his moves? Is this evidence that they're working together, or is this just a natural consequence of having so many opportunistic opponents who all patiently wait for the perfect time to fuck with me? I've got a way to get an answer. I took the ring off my left hand, carefully arranged it, and looked through. The Scryer's Gyre is still spinning. According to it, he is not scheming against me or acting against me.

So, either he's got an artifact that makes him actually immune to my real divination magic, or he's such a slippery sneak that even magic itself takes him at face value when he says he's doing this for my own good. Or, hell, maybe he's replaced my Gyre with an identical version that just never reports on him. I'm not sure I can really rule that out. Okay, I'm going to apply Occam's Razor and assume the first. I know of three magic items in the game that can prevent magical detection.

I don't know if any of them would work against the Gyre, since the game never puts any of them in your enemy's hands so they're never pitted against each other. But this is something I need to start investigating. But not right now. I've got a camogie match to lose, and I don't even know how it's going to happen.

"Killer?" Egnul said, shifting her weight.

"What's going on? What did your brother do?"

"Technically nothing," I groaned, putting the ring back on.

"And yet, something is going to get fouled up."

"Do you always become such a pessimist when he's involved?" Framkis asked.

"It's not like Vanderbolt is here."

"That's the problem," I told her, "there's nothing here that I can see going wrong. Against Stutin, I knew exactly what the danger was."

"If you girls don't get on the pitch and take your places," our coach said in the sweetest voice I've ever heard her use, "the danger is going to be my foot against your backsides. Git!" She hurried out onto the grass pitch, and I took my midfield wide position. Right at the thick of the scrum, but not actually battling for the toss. I'm strong, smart and fast, but we all graciously acknowledged that my handling and hurley skills are barely mediocre, and I cannot expect to win a turnover.

I checked my channels as the referee approached with the sliotar. Strength of bamboo, senses of the eagle, I've got steel essence ready to channel on short notice but not currently inhabiting it. I've got water, air, silver and void curved, with water and fire ready to conjure. And, fifteen points of mana available and unspent, just in case something comes up. Lately I like using bamboo for my physical reinforcement. The stuff is bonkers strong, and very resilient, and very flexible.

It lets me hit hard and take a hit back, but instead of limiting my thoughts like most metals and minerals, it makes me more outside-the-box and more versatile in my thinking. Also, it is heavily associated with rapid lasting growth, and I've got indications that I benefit more from practice and training while I've got it equipped. The eagle, likewise, is strong and lightweight and surprisingly nimble. Good for patience and observation, as well.

The improvements to my eyes are not just like wearing binoculars, they help me pick out points of interest in a wide field of view and also to focus very hard on what I do seek. It does not just zoom in and out, it's got a lot of improvements in how it processes visual information, especially things that are moving quickly. I didn't have the eagle last season, and I'm hoping that it lets me watch the field and the sliotar at the same time, helping with my focus issues.

The ref blew the whistle and tossed the sliotar out, and this time I could really see the techniques that the players used to try to steal the little leather ball away from each other, battling for possession. I was charging in to block out the Conservatory players that were sprinting to support, and I learned that the varsity league of camogie had not been properly briefed about me.

I washed the eagle out and flooded the channels with steel just before impact, planting one foot solidly and rooting myself with all that solidity and stability. Two dancers crashed into me like waves over a rock, and all that laboriously-developed muscle and expertly-refined agility just bounced off me, flying off of their feet. I cleared steel and returned the eagle as I moved to intercept more players.

My plan was similar to last year: deliver enough of a battering that they learn to respect my strength, then 'accidentally' let them know about my criminal background, and use blatant intimidation to keep them on the run so my team can score the real goals. We still don't have a jersey for me in the name 'Killer', but it is in the works. It is a good plan. But it did fail.

With me cutting off support from their backfield, my team was able to outnumber and outfight the three Conservatory players that were trying to control the ball with short-passes and ground-passes. I only had to shoulder-check, hip-check, stiff-arm and blockade six players before they got it. My teammates intercepted a desperate hand-pass and started a charging run up the far side of the field, which I had not yet cleared of dancers.

I started running to intercept, when suddenly the ground was moving very fast underneath me. Wind whistled in my ears as I skimmed over the grass. One of the dancers moved to block me from helping my comrades, and I swept up over her and down the other side, juking between two others before I touched down, in position to take a pass and - The whistle blew.

"Technical foul! Harigold, sorcery violation. Cliffside's free from her position!" I stared around.

"What?" Last year I had conflicts with the rulebook. Hearstwhile camogie has lots of restrictions on what sort of magic can be involved in the game. But, it affected what I can do to affect the field, the air, the sliotar, the other hurlers, the hurleys, the goal, the spectators and referee.. but tellingly, it did not mention a single time about a sorceress casting any spells onto her own person. So I am not allowed to curve or conjure on the field, but I can channel all I like.

A huge advantage for me, because the crossover of "sorcerer" and "interested in field sports" is a Venn diagram that includes nobody but me. So, I can channel my spells and get the strength, speed, nimbleness, the durability... well, strictly speaking it's not fair at all. I'm using magic against people that have no magic. But it's a lot less unfair than me getting my head beaten in because I'm a mage on a field of burly athletes. Off these fields, I'm toned, fit, strong, and when I choose to be I'm a bit imposing.

On these fields, I'm one of the smallest, scrawniest and least adept players on the pitch. I am careful about my rulebook loophole. Our coach makes sure to walk the referee through the rulings about channeling versus curving so I don't get in trouble. But I am definitely not allowed to fly while we're playing. So why did I? I'm still whirling with all this while the players rearranged ourselves.

I was ungently nudged back so I would not foul the shot while the referee tossed the Conservatory's team captain her free puck right from the position I'd been standing. She batted it and we all took off, trying to turn over possession and make another well-protected run for the goal. And then I flew up over a line of defenders and landed almost on top of the hurler in possession, ready to steal the sliotar and- The whistle blew, the ref was holding up a yellow card. I raised my hands, don't shoot, I'm innocent.

"It wasn't me!" I shouted, my voice carrying over the boos and the complaints from other players.

"I didn't do that!" But as usual, protesting my innocence did not help much when everyone can see my guilt with their own eyes. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Someone is screwing with me. I looked around, trying to find a likely offender. None of the dancers seemed to be doing anything. And if they had a sorceress on their team, it would increase their team's overall score, the same way I do for our team.

But someone here is using magic, probably sorcery, to move me around, to fly me against my will. I'm being framed. Someone here is moving me against my will to make it look like I'm cheating with flight. The next free came from just outside our twenty, and we had to scramble our defense to keep them from scoring on us right then and there. I used curved air around my body, locking down like a steadying grip. Anytime my feet started to leave the ground I would force back down.

When I started jetting too fast in one direction, I would compensate with my powers in the opposite direction. I was trying to play the game and also win an ongoing fight against some mysterious magician who was interfering. Probably from the sidelines? I considered it, and spared a second to glance around. Nobody adjacent the field that did not seem to be the right people doing the right things. My eyes traced higher.

Some sorcerers have a lot of reach, they might be a pretty good distance away, maybe even on the grandstands with the spectators- My eyes went to the bookies sitting next to my brother. And the triumphant sneers on their faces. And the bland, detached amusement on Nathan's face. Goddammit. They had hired a sorcerer to frame me so they could card me out of the game. And it was such an obvious trick in retrospect. After all, I'm out here every game proving how shoddily regulated sorcery is in this sport.

It appears that someone paid enough attention to use those same loose controls against me. I jittered to the side, and knocked the scrum aside a few feet. A Conservatory player got the sliotar over the bar, scoring a single point. We were now officially losing. And I had to fight my ass off to keep us from losing harder. Again and again I had to fight against the external forces. It was not smooth, there was a lot of jank in it.

I was a half-second behind them, so they'd yank me one way and I'd have to push back to my original position and then try to hold steady there, wobbling as asymmetrical warring forces tried to move me about. Or I'd overcompensate and shove myself too far the other way. It was affecting my game, I could barely even run in a straight line. If I shouldered someone with this conflict, I could accidentally hit them dangerously hard.

My sorcery is more than strong enough to kill someone if I use it without control, and the other magician here is at least as strong as I am. So it's time to do the obvious smart thing: I called for a time-out and headed for the referee. I've run into some stupid situations before that I tried to deal with myself instead of bringing my grievances to the people whose whole jobs are to make sure that there's no cheating.

I can think of at least three games last year that I really should have gotten the referee involved. At the time, I was deeply distrustful of any authority figures or rule-keepers, for obvious reasons. Well, I'm ready to make better choices this time. As I approached, the referee was glaring at me.

"I'm not gonna red card you on technicals," he said.

"You and your coach have made my position clear. But I will give a free every time I see you using unsanctionable magic."

"It's really not me," I panted.

"I don't even need to cheat, my team and I can win this with our usual approved methods. But someone is doing this, and it's not me. I'm being set up." He paused, considering.

"Who would set you up?" Well, the problem is that the truth sounds stupid. The truth is that my brother placed a bet favoring me so the bookies that are covering his bet now have a concrete monetary incentive to cheat this game against my team. And, unless I miss my guess, there's some history between him and those crooks, they were all way too guarded for such a minor interaction. They might be trying to teach him a lesson. Or working with him. Or anything.

"Have you read a newspaper?" I asked him.

"It could be the the magister's guild, any of three different criminal rackets, it could be my own brother or the queen herself. I'm not suffering a lack of enemies." That's the problem with changing the world. You make an enemy out of everyone who has profited from the world as it was. And that means people that have been made powerful by the world the way it was.

"So, it's just some mysterious conspiracy?" he said. I shrugged.

"I can't point at a person in this pitch and accuse them, no. But something is happening. If your interpretation of those two facts is 'mysterious conspiracy', then interpret away." He mused. He considered.

"Can you fight it?"

"Not well," I said.

"But I can try."

"Then fight it," he said.

"This is not my paygrade." He waved me to position, counted down the time-out, and tossed the sliotar back into play. I tried to play the game and help my team while also pushing back against whoever is trying to fly me around. Moments like this really emphasize how grossly unfair sorcery really is. But normally it's unfair in my favor. Egnul got possession and started running down, and I moved parallel to ward off blockers. I stuttered, staggered, but kept my movement.

Someone came after her from the lee side, and I prepared for a big jump to try to catch the tackle, when the ground broke open and a wall of sod and soil burst up, protecting Egnul from the dancer. The whistle blew. The ref was glaring at me, red faced.

"Not me!" I yelled over the crowd noise. He called both coaches to him, and they moved to a huddled conference at the midfield. Egnul tossed her hurley from hand to hand while we waited.

"Guess you really screwed up this time, Killer." I was staring through the crowds, trying to lock my reticle onto each and every person one-by-one, trying to get it to show me one person in this place who's got a combatant rating and a sorcerer's identification.

"It really wasn't me," I said.

"Maybe you got really rattled by your brother showing up?"

"Egnul, you've seen me get rattled by broken bones and concussions. You know better."

"Huh," she said, thinking it over.

"Yeah, you really don't lose control of your magic, do you?"

"Not like that. Sorcery requires a clear head. If I lose control, it's more likely to do nothing than to do the wrong thing." Still no sign of another mage on the premises. Maybe I've missed something. Maybe they're just sitting a little out of my line of sight. Maybe my System interface is not meant to pick hidden opponents out of a crowd.

"Yo, something's happening," she said, waving to the midfield. I turned around as the referee cupped his hands to amplify his voice.

"We're registering this match with the score as-is. The match will be rescheduled later in the season for completion. The commission will be consulted. The game is concluded." Nathan's bookies looked well pleased with themselves. Nathan was giving me an inscrutable look. Watching me. I held his eyes, waiting for him to give me something, anything. Signal me, let me know what is on his mind, anything but that blank appraising stare.

"Killer," the coach said, walking up behind me. The rest of the field was clearing, dejected girls walking to both sidelines. Nobody was happy with this outcome.

"Yeah coach."

"The ref is going to be going to the commission. He's pursuing a ruling that all matches be overseen with a spell that will negate sorcery during gameplay. He wants to close your loophole." Oh. The mission was titled 'Learn to Do Without'. Fuck. I might have to play out the rest of this season with no sorcery at all.