by Brian Beam
Anyway, I can’t explain how it works, but I do know that the magic keeps the Setter from stopping the Holder from fulfilling the Contract Terms and it keeps the Holder on task and unable to cause harm—or have others cause harm—to the Setter. This bond lasts until either the Setter or the Holder dies. I can theoretically never hurt Galius and he can never hurt me. After I hand him the gem, I can never try to take it back
Physically, a Contract is nothing more than a thin, ivory-colored square cloth no bigger than the palm of a hand. Each of the four sides can never fray. The cloth can’t be cut, burned or destroyed, except by magic.
One side bears Lyrak’s horned dragon’s head emblem stamped in blood-red ink that never fades. It is said that these emblems were printed with Lyrak’s own blood. I’m not so sure that it could have been possible for him to do that with the thousands of Contracts he had created, though.
The other side is blank until the Setter places a drop of his blood, or “marks” the Contract. The Holder places a drop of his own blood beside it to complete the Contract Activation. You can have as many Activated Contracts as you can blood drops soaked into the cloth, but I can’t imagine taking on more than one at a time. Besides, you are bound primarily to whoever your first Setter is. The Setter who makes Terms first is the one who the Holder is ultimately bound to if the the Terms are not met in time, even if a later Setter’s time frame ends first. Therefore, most people won’t hire you if you already have another Setter. The Contract Holder, being bound firstly to the original Setter, would have less motivation to start on the new Setter’s Terms. The only way for the new Setter to take over as the primary Setter is for the Holder to finish his prior Activated Contract Terms first.
All that is necessary to Activate a Contract is for the Setter to speak aloud the Terms while holding the Contract, place their blood on it, and then for the Holder to add a drop of their blood. This always includes a time frame. As the end of the Activated Contract’s time frame approaches, the spots of blood will fade. Only time can do this and no amount of washing ever will. Only fulfilling the Activated Contract Terms or running out of time and becoming linked to the Setter causes the blood to disappear completely. An unfulfilled Contract renders the Contract useless to the original Holder.
No magic ability is necessary for the Setter or Holder to Activate the Contract. All the necessary magic is contained within the Contract itself.
Now, the Contact Setter is able to set up impossible Terms from the start, but if the Contract Holder is stupid enough to accept such Terms, then they deserve to become mindless slaves if you ask me.
There are five ways to end a Contract’s Activation. First, the Holder can fulfill the Terms within the Setter’s specified time frame. Once the magic of the Contract recognizes that the Terms have been fulfilled, the blood disappears and the Contract is no longer Activated.
The second way is to fail to fulfill the Contract within the time frame and losing your freedom in the process.
Third, the Setter can speak aloud that they wish to cancel the specific Terms of the Contract while holding it. They then seal it with their and the Holder’s blood. This is also how Terms can be changed as Galius had done.
Fourth, the Setter can die. Since the magic of the Contract keeps the Holder from killing or doing anything to cause harm to the Setter, the Holder can’t purposefully end a Contract’s Activation this way.
The last way to end a Contract’s Activation is for the Holder to die. Just as the Setter can’t be killed by the Holder, the Holder can’t be killed by the Setter.
Once a Contract is no longer Activated, anyone can use it. If an Activated Contract is stolen, it can’t be used by the one who stole it until the Contract is no longer Activated due to one of the five conditions I previously described. Don’t ask me how the Contract’s magic can tell if the Contract has been fulfilled when not in the presence of the job completion, or how it recognizes who possesses it. The magic of Contracts is way beyond my ability to comprehend.
Presently, guilds—at least ones in the larger cities—are the only places where Contracts can legally be Activated. Guilds serve the purpose of being an intermediary for those looking for jobs to be done and those willing to be paid to do those jobs. Many require membership to the guild, though some employ walk-ins. People with Contracts get the benefit of never needing to be a guild member, usually being paid up front, and being hired for the most lucrative jobs since their free life depends on completing them. Very few try to make a living with Contracts. I am one of the ones stupid enough to do so.
Contracts are legally supposed to be Activated before an impartial Guildmaster who can step in if they think that the Setter’s Terms are unreasonable or that the Contract Holder is being taken advantage of. Also, Guildmasters will verify that a Contract is legitimate by attempting to cut or burn the Contract to prove that it can’t be marred. They witness Contract Activations and verify the Contract for a percentage of the monetary agreement of the Contract Terms. Activating a Contract without a Guildmaster can be—and sometimes is—done, but it is more risky as well as illegal. Without the Guildmaster, it is much easier for the Setter to use the Holder unfairly.
So, back to Lyrak. The wizard king was defeated. Lyrak’s controversial use of Contracts led to the unification of the surrounding kingdoms and the defeat of his evergrowing army before his power grew to be unstoppable. After Lyrak was taken down, those kingdoms remained united in peace and split up most of Gualain. Out of respect for the innocent residents of Gualain, they were left a much smaller kingdom to call their own. The Contracts slowly disappeared and over the years, guilds took up responsibility for them.
All in all, Contracts make it easier for me to fund my travels, making it simpler to not only find work, but also make good money. In addition, usually only people with higher economic or political status can afford to hire someone with a Contract. That means that sometimes my Contract gets me closer to royalty as I search for my parents.
On this night, however, it got me lying on my back and tied to a chair with a possibly broken wrist to go along with my possibly broken nose as I stared into darkness as night fell.
Galius must have paid off the tavern owner to have the place emptied out for the night. Either he was trying to flaunt his influence to really drive home the point of who I was working for or he was just plain stupid. He could have always had me dragged off into an alley somewhere for free. Maybe after his thugs punched me out, he had been too lazy and arrogant to have me taken anywhere else.
Speaking of which, the thief must have been pretty good to make it out past Galius’ thugs. How did the thief get out of the tavern uncaught?
More importantly, if Galius was in such a big hurry to get the gem, why had he tied me to a chair? Technically he shouldn’t have been able to keep me from the job so long due to the magic of the Contract, but I guess no magic is perfect. It makes me wonder if the Contract really will keep Galius from killing me or if the Contract’s protection is just a myth. Maybe he just figured I wouldn’t be able to go to a guild until it opened in the morning anyway, so why not let me sweat it out a bit overnight.
All these thoughts just made my head hurt even worse than the lump on the back of it had already made it. Some of my hair was plastered to the blood under my nose as it dried and was really starting to itch. Worse than pain is having an itch you just can’t scratch.
After the thirty minutes I mentioned earlier, the door to the tavern creaked open. A slender woman holding an oil lantern up above her stepped cautiously into the room. The light from the lantern revealed her to be the pretty, young serving woman who had taken care of the table I had been at with Brennor and his pals. Caralys, I believe her name was.
Caralys’ frizzy red hair was tied up in a bun. Her face didn’t seem as pale and freckly as I had remembered in the weak light of her lantern. Redheads usually lacked the bronze skin tones of the south. She was still wearing the white blouse and long green skirt she h
ad been wearing under her serving apron earlier. Once her light settled on me, she gave me an uneasy smile.
She made her way to me and crouched down, setting the lantern on the floor. Grabbing the chair, she tilted it up with enough effort that her chest was heaving when she tried to regain her breath once I was upright. Not that I was staring at her chest. Well, she was pretty enough that I’d have asked her to share a drink under better circumstances.
Anyway, I looked at her—in the eyes this time—and said, “Thanks,” with as much of a smile as I could muster in my current condition.
Caralys smiled back prettily as she started untying my hands. “I shouldn’t be here. That man paid my boss to leave you until we opened in the morning and we all swore to follow the order. I couldn’t do it in good conscience, though. You seem like a nice man, and you tipped well.” See, it never hurts to be nice to your server. “If my boss knew I was doing this, I’d probably be out of a job.” Finally, she pulled the last knot free.
After she freed my hands I brought them around and twirled my wrists, stretching my fingers out as I did so. I had been overreacting about the broken wrist thing, but by the gods did they hurt.
I rose painfully to my feet and looked back at her. “We’ll just keep it our little secret,” I told her with a wink. I reached into my coin purse, which surprisingly had a couple silver coins left in it, and flipped one to her. She nodded her thanks as I walked to the door.
My shortsword in its scabbard and my dagger were still in the basket by the door. Grabbing my weapons and my brown wool cloak hanging on a peg on the wall, I stepped out into the moonlit night. Not that I was unappreciative of Caralys’ help, but the more time I spent with her, the more likely someone would see us together. The silver piece I gave her would not make up for a lost job.
The mid-fall air was cool enough to warrant the cloak that was bundled under my arm with my sword and dagger, but I had enough on my mind to ignore it.
The night’s breeze brought my bloodied face back to my attention. I wiped under my nose with the sleeve of my left arm, flaking away dried, darkened blood. At least I was no longer actively bleeding. Bringing a hand up to touch my swollen nose confirmed my suspicions that it was broken. The things I go through for a little money. Well, three gold coins are more than just a little, I suppose.
It was too late for any guild to be open or to buy any supplies for the task of finding a thief who could be an hour or more outside the town in practically any direction. I figured my best bet would to be to go back to my room at the Weary Traveler’s Inn on the outskirts of Geeron to plan out my next move.
The walled city of Geeron is one of the smaller cities I’ve stopped in during my travels, but trade there is fairly signficant with Byweather, a port city off the Dyanac Ocean, being only a short distance to the south.
Geeron’s streets and buildings are very well kept and clean, or at least were during my time there. The majority of the buildings of the inner city are white-plastered businesses with brilliant-red, angular roofs. All the nobles’ houses are peppered throughout the inner city, mostly of stone with stained glass windows and tiled roofing of various colors.
The outer city, built in a circle around the inner city, contains most of the residential houses which are built with stucco and large wooden beams over wooden frames with well-mended thatch roofs.
The city also has its slums as with any city, but all in all, Geeron is one of the nicer cities I’ve visited during my journey.
As I made my way to the Weary Traveler’s Inn, the few lit windows in the city did little to illuminate the cobblestoned streets. Fortunately, the gibbous moon and burning street lamps helped illuminate the streets. The crisp, chill wind seemed to invigorate me as I navigated to the outer city. There were very few people about in the streets, and thankfully none that were alert enough to notice a bloodied man with a sword under his arm.
Just a block or so from the city gates, I finally arrived at a stuccoed building with a painted sign hanging from its tiled roof overhang that revealed it to be my destination.
I stepped into the Weary Traveler’s Inn, announced by bells on the door jingling. The innkeeper on duty turned from the patrons eating and drinking in the common room to me, the bloodied man entering his inn. In hindsight, I should have cleaned up a bit before coming in and scaring him half to death as the look on his round face suggested I had. I almost thought he’d jump out of his suspenders.
Pressing my other silver coin into the man’s hand, I flashed him my room key from a pocket in the lining of my bundled up cloak. Seeing that I was a paying patron, the rotund innkeeper gave me a nod of confidentiality and turned back to his customers who were laughing loudly to some skit being put on by two men in colorful tights and puffy-sleeved shirts. I’m sure it was funny, but I wasn’t quite in the mood to laugh.
Making my way up two flights of wooden stairs to the top floor of the inn, I unlocked the door to my room and entered. I flung my sword, dagger, and cloak onto the floor as I kicked the door shut behind me.
I quickly made my way to the drawer chest, lit the oil lamp atop it, and unlocked the top drawer with the same key as for the room door. I let out a pent up breath when I saw my Contract was there next to a bulging leather coin pouch. On the Contract, there were still two small drops of blood. Galius’ was a much brighter red than my faded spot beside it showing that he really had revised the Contract. The next day, I’d be adding a new drop of blood over my older one and they would both be bright, signifying a new start to the Activated Contract.
Shutting the drawer and locking it, I walked over to the full washbowl on the small table next to the bed. I painfully scrubbed my face as well as cleaned the blood out of the ends of my hair with the cloth and the bar of sandalwood oil soap that had been next to the bowl. The water was quickly reddened to a clear ruby shade.
After a quick look into the mirror atop the drawer chest—definitely confirming that my nose was a swollen, bruised, broken mess—I fell back onto the bed, breathing through my mouth to avoid the whistling my nose made otherwise and shut my eyes.
My mind swam with questions about why the gem was so important, what had happened with Galius’ thugs, who had stolen the gem from me, why they stole only the gem from me, and what I was going to do next. A sudden scratching sound at the door answered that last thought for me.
I hopped up from the neatly made bed and opened the door. In trotted a big, short-haired, gray tabby cat with black stripes and long black whiskers. The black M-shaped pattern on his forehead was fitting as his name was Max.
“Why are you never there when I need you, Max?” I questioned sternly.
Max looked up at me inquisitively with bright green eyes. “Because you told me you had ‘everything under control’ and that I ‘should go hunt some mice or something else that cats do’,” he answered in a raspy voice that always made me picture him as an old man with a long white beard and smoking a pipe. “Not that I would hunt mice. Why eat mice when a freshly cooked salmon is so—” Max stopped in mid-sentence as he took a long look at my face. “What happened to you? If that is ‘under control’, you have a weird definition of ‘under control’. You did not get the gem, did you?” The disappointment Max felt was cleary evident in his tone.
After over thirteen years, I am still not used to seeing a cat’s mouth move like a human’s. It just doesn’t seem natural.
“Just heal me, okay?” I felt a little bad for snipping at the little guy, but I was just not in the mood for his sarcastic humor.
“Well, I will heal your nose, but you can deal with the rest on your own, talking to me like that.” Have you ever been berated by a tabby? It’s a weird feeling, to say the least. “Besides it makes you look rugged. Maybe it will make some farm girl fall in love with you and straighten you out. Plus farm girls are usually good cooks. Some nice pork chops and gravy with boiled potatoes would be nice.”
“Always with the food, Max. Do you ever think of anythi
ng else?” That got me a glare. “Anyway, I’m sorry I snapped at you. It’s been a long day.” I let out a sigh as I locked the door. I explained everything that happened at the Boar’s Pen.
Max just stared at me as if he couldn’t care less, like cats usually do. “I told you before that you should get a haircut.”
I looked at Max incredulously. “Really, that’s the part you’re going to take out of all that? Look, I really need some rest, so if you could heal me and maybe go back out and try to find me a lead on our little black-cloaked thief, that would be just wonderful, grand and dandy.”
Max jumped onto the bed. Stretching out his front paws with his back arched inwardly and his tail stiffening in the air, he gave a wide-mouthed yawn before settling back on his haunches. After a quick scratch at his right ear with his back leg, he turned his slitted pupils back to me. “Well, you owe me. Again. Come over here, you lunkhead.”
Oh yeah, did I mention that I have a magic talking cat?
Chapter 3
How To Weed Thieves And Infuriate Enemies
I awoke to Max scratching at the door. My head felt like it had been kicked by a barren of mules and the bright sunlight of morning filtering through the thin white curtains of the window was not helping. Max hadn’t been kidding about only healing my nose. I really should be nicer to the furball.
Sitting up, I put a hand to my aching stomach and was surprised to touch bare skin. I hadn’t taken off my shirt that I could remember. Pushing aside my blanket revealed that I was only in my smallclothes with a stomach more purple than not. My shirt and pants were lying perfectly folded and clean at the bedside with my belt coiled beside them. Even my body was clean with the scent of sandalwood emanating from my skin. How Max is able to do some of the things he does—magic or no—never ceases to astound me.
