The Silent Pact

by Genevieve Dickinson

  Horrified, Autumn turned and ran for the small room she had come from. The stone door to the outside stood ajar. She didn’t stop to wonder why. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter if I’m on those mountain paths forever, naked and alone. Anywhere is better than here.

  Fleeing the temple as fast as her legs could carry her, Autumn ran off into the creeping fog rising on the mountain.

  

  Esren rubbed his brow, trying to fend off an impending headache. Three days on this hunting trip and he hadn’t managed to kill anything. The ambassador, his mother, and even Catrine had already brought their trophies back to the lodge. If I don’t get something tomorrow, Catrine will never let me hear the end of it.

  His annoyance with the hunt paled in comparison to his frustration with the book. Esren brought the strange tome hoping to study it late at night when everyone else was asleep. The pages were still blank, but he could feel the power emanating from it. Every night, he flipped through the pages, hoping to see something he had missed before. Every night, he was disappointed. He had cast every spell he knew to reveal whatever the book was hiding. Nothing worked. He groaned, the pain arising from the tension in his neck. This has been a really lousy trip.

  Esren spent the evening stifling yawns as he listened to the ambassador regale his guests with tales of previous hunts. “I once saw Commander Kasrian take a wild boar with a crossbow bolt right between the eyes.” The ambassador’s eyes sparkled as he told the tale. “He was only fourteen years old, but he was already a better shot than any soldier in Nor. It was remarkable, though nothing like what I’ve seen since coming to Katrell. Imagine, using magic to hunt! I suppose to you it seems ordinary, but I would never have dreamed it was possible.”

  Miraphina laughed. “Those of us who use magic every day can barely imagine a life without it. As a child, I used to think it was sad that the children of Nor could not create light in their hand to chase away the shadows.” She emphasized the point by doing just that, a perfect orb of light appearing in her outstretched palm.

  She smiled again at the ambassador as she dismissed the light. “On my first trip to Nor when I was only eight years old, I shared a room with a girl from a noble family. In the middle of the night, we heard a strange noise. I was afraid. I reached out my hand to create a light, but I was so scared that I couldn’t remember the spell. The noble girl had the presence of mind to simply light a candle.” Miraphina chuckled. “It was only a mouse. I learned that night that power means nothing unless you can use it when you need to.”

  The Queen turned to Esren with an expectant look. He forced himself to smile, hoping he didn’t look as bored as he felt. “I understand, Mother. I guess our cousins in Nor are not so different from us.”

  Miraphina smiled, her eyes beaming with pride. “You are absolutely right, my son. Someday soon, I shall take you to Nor so you can see for yourself.”

  If they’re all as dull as their ambassador, I’m not sure I want to go. Esren gave an exaggerated yawn. “Well, I think I should get to bed. Good night, everyone.” He gave a short bow and walked out of the sitting room. He heard the conversation continue behind him as he walked. Mother and Catrine can handle the small talk. I have better things to do with my time.

  An hour later, Esren began to think he had made a mistake. Even the ambassador’s endless prattling is more useful than this damned book. He flipped through the pages again, faster this time. There has to be something. Anything. This book has power, I can feel it! How do I get it?

  As he carelessly flipped the pages, his finger slipped. He felt the paper slice through his skin and winced at the unexpected pain. He sighed and rolled his eyes. It was deep. Blood was already beginning to drip from underneath his skin. He’d had enough papercuts in his life to know that the bleeding would stop soon. Muttering to himself, he reached for a handkerchief to staunch the blood.

  His heart nearly stopped when he looked down.

  The blood was falling on the open book, but there were no blood droplets on the page. The blood dripped down, it landed on the page, and then it just disappeared. Esren looked carefully at the rest of the page. His breath caught in his throat. Something was beginning to appear at the top of the page. Writing. In red ink. It’s the blood! Blood is the key!

  Suddenly excited, Esren flipped back to the first page of the book. Holding out his trembling hand, he allowed the blood from his hand to drip onto the paper. After a few moments, the title of the book was visible: The Art of Soul Magic.

  Esren stood quickly, his chair clattering to the ground. Soul Magic? The forbidden arts? All he knew about Soul Magic was that it required sacrifice and that it was the only kind of magic outlawed in Katrell. He stared down at the book, unsure if he should continue.

  A small sound caught Esren’s attention. A mouse was creeping along the floor at the edge of the room. Esren watched it for a moment, his heart pounding quickly in his ears. I did say I’d do anything. I should be grateful to the Gods for showing me the way. He raised up his hand, palm facing the mouse, and whispered the spell.

  The mouse didn’t make a sound. It simply stopped moving. Esren stepped over to the tiny body and scooped it up in his hand. Well, at least I managed to kill one thing on this hunting trip. He smiled weakly, trying to force back the fear welling up in his chest. Now I need something sharp.

  His eyes fell on a silver letter opener. Without taking his eyes from the book, he picked up the chair from where it had dropped and sat back down. His body was rigid as he gently placed the mouse’s body on the open book. This better be worth it.

  

  “Wow, Esren! That shot was amazing!” Catrine beamed at her cousin. Esren smiled as he sauntered to the body of the deer. His bolt had taken the creature right between the eyes, just as he’d intended.

  Miraphina was smiling as well. “Well done, Esren! What do you say we take this back to the lodge and have it for dinner tonight?”

  Esren’s fingers traced the hole his magic had split in the creature’s skull. The blood was still warm. He shivered with pleasure as he felt the creature’s life force flowing through his body. So much power. All mine to command. He smiled. “I think that sounds like an excellent idea. I bet it will taste delicious.”

  Chapter 7

  The shop window gleamed in the dim light of the sun’s first rays. Bread, pies, and confections of all types seemed to glow in the early morning light. Autumn stood out in the street at arm’s length from the window. She stared hungrily at a fresh loaf of bread. Everyone agreed that this was the best bakery in town. She sighed as she glanced up at the sign that read “Closed.” The baker would cuff her if he caught her here when he opened the shop. She scratched at the bruises covering her arms. It was risky, but she allowed herself another moment. I’m so hungry. Gods, when was the last time I ate? Autumn thought for a moment, but couldn’t remember the last time her stomach had been full.

  She sighed and looked down at herself. Thin, ragged clothes covered her scrawny frame. Every inch of the clothing was covered in dirt, dust, and dried blood. Her hair was so caked in filth that no one could possibly determine its actual color. The cloth wrapping her feet was beginning to tear, leaving blisters were clearly visible. Her arms and legs were covered with cuts and bruises from fights with the other street children. Worst of all, the scars from that terrible night in the temple were peeking out from under her shirt. Can’t really blame the baker. I guess I wouldn’t trust me, either. Other street children had turned to pickpocketing or worse. How was anyone to know she hadn’t?

  The baker changed the sign on the shop door from “closed” to “open.” He glared through the glass at the girl. Autumn looked down at the ground and scampered off down the street. There are other bakeries in town, she thought. The food might not be as good, but sometimes you get lucky. If I can get there right at sunset, maybe I’ll even get something to eat without another fight.

  Autumn shivered and slowed her pace. The leaves of the trees were turn
ing to colors that reminded her of a fiery sunset. Winter will be here soon. How am I going to make it in this condition? Three long winters had passed since she came through the gates of the city of Nor. She had seen too many people die on these cold streets to the ice and snow.

  The young girl had survived in Nor as a result of luck more than skill. When she first came to the city, Autumn was broken, battered, and starving from her journey down the mountain and through the wilderness. She had stumbled around the city for days until an old beggar noticed her and took pity. Kam was his name. He said he had been on the streets almost his whole life, and he would teach her how to survive. With winter coming on fast, had no choice but to trust him.

  Fortunately, her trust had been well placed. Old Kam was a good man. He took Autumn under his wing, teaching her all the tricks to surviving on the streets of Nor. He had rules, so many rules. She struggled to remember them all at first. Don’t beg in the wealthy districts, make friends with innkeepers when you can, never go to the Grand Temple. Kam’s rules seemed almost random at times, but Autumn followed them all without hesitation. With his help, Autumn knew she would survive. For the first time since the bandits took her, she felt almost safe.

  The third winter had killed the old man. Autumn had woken one morning to find his frail body motionless and covered with a thin layer of snow. The guards took Kam away, and that was that. She was alone. She hadn’t found anyone she could trust since.

  Autumn sighed. Being alone is a bad idea in this city. It’s deadly. When the snow starts to fall, I’ll have to find somewhere to go, someone to trust.

  She shivered again. Looking up at the trees, she vaguely remembered that her birthday was around this time of year. It had been so long that she couldn’t remember what day it was. Counting on her fingers, she figured that she was 10 years old. If I were home, there would be sweets for me. Father would let me stay up late by the fire, and I’d listen to him sing and tell stories. Autumn wiped away a tear and kept walking. No. It’s not time yet. I can’t cry. Not yet. Someday, she told herself, I’ll be able to cry all the tears I’ve held back since the bandits took me away. But not right now. Right now, I have to work on living through this winter. It looks like it’s going to be a harsh one.

  The sound of music caught her ear. Autumn realized that the streets were far busier than usual for this time of day. She caught sight of the brightly colored banners hanging from the buildings. She couldn’t read the words, but she knew what they meant. That’s right, the harvest festival. She sighed in frustration. The other children would already be out claiming their territories for begging and other, more unsavory tasks. I guess I could go pick out a corner to beg on, but I really don’t feel like taking a beating today. Where can I go wait out the day?

  As she thought, she spotted an old woman struggling to put up a market stall. That looks heavy. Should she be doing that alone? The old woman stumbled under the weight of a massive tent pole. Instinctively Autumn rushed over and helped her pick it up. A few moments later they had the pole in place. The old woman sighed in relief. “Oh, thank you, child! I guess I’m just not as young as I used to be.”

  Autumn smiled sheepishly, and the old woman looked at her thoughtfully. “You a street kid?” She nodded. “Can you talk at all?” Autumn looked up, startled. No one had ever figured it out that quickly before. She shook her head, and the old woman gave a laugh. “I thought not, otherwise you’d be asking for money by now. Not that I’d blame you,” she added quickly when she noticed Autumn’s embarrassed look. “Being a street kid is a hard enough life, but being mute, too . . . Tell you what, little friend. You help me set up my stall, and I’ll pay you. Sound good to you?”

  Autumn nodded happily. She couldn’t believe her luck. Maybe I can have breakfast after all!

  Setting up the stall took about an hour, and then it was time to fill it with the tools of the old woman’s trade. She’s a fortune teller, Autumn realized. She peered intently at the crystal ball she had just pulled out of a box. The woman laughed. “Oh, my dear, let old Madame Clara handle that. The spirits are very fussy, you know, and they don’t know you yet.” Carefully, she handed the crystal to the woman. She thought she saw a glimmer of light coming from it as she let go. It must be my imagination. Still, she kept a close eye on the crystal as she continued working.

  Madame Clara must be famous. She’s already got people waiting. Autumn was just setting up the last of the supplies when she spotted the line. It stretched out into the street, filled with dozens of eager people waiting to have their fortunes told. By this time, Madame Clara had changed into a more traditional fortune teller’s garb. Thick fabric in deep, vibrant colors and covered in mystical symbols covered the old woman’s small frame. Little bells sewn into the fabric jingled musically as she waved to the gathering crowd. Finally, the fortune teller guided Autumn inside the tent and lowered the flaps in the front.

  “Now then, little one. I have some things for you, just give me a moment.” She rummaged through a small chest while the girl breathed in the scent of incense. “With all those bruises, I can tell the other kids around here give you a hard time. So here,” she produced a belt with a small pouch. “This keeps your money hidden so pickpockets don’t get at it. I always pack an extra. Never know when yours might tear or break.” She took a moment to show the little girl how to wear it correctly, then filled it to the brim with silver coins.

  Autumn was stunned by the amount of money the woman had just given her. She started to protest, but Madame Clara waved dismissively. “You’re sweet, little one, but you need this far more than I do.” She gently placed a hand on Autumn’s shoulder and knelt down to look her in the eye. “You’ve got a good heart, my little friend. You don’t deserve what’s happened to you, and you’ve been very strong. But things are about to get better, I’d stake my reputation on that. We’ll meet again in better times, my dear.” The old fortune teller smiled, and Autumn couldn’t help but smile back. Waving a grateful goodbye, the little girl stepped back out into the rapidly filling streets.

  Autumn rushed away to one of her favorite places, a walled garden in the back of a small house. The garden was overgrown and looked like it hadn’t been used in a long time. An elderly couple owned the house it was attached to, but they rarely went outside, and the shutters on the windows were always closed tight. Between the wall and the hedges lining the garden was a clear space big enough for Autumn to lie down. A little pond caught the rain and gave her all the fresh water she needed. Grateful for the sanctuary, the young girl worked hard to keep the place clean and tended to the plants as best she could. The little garden was probably the closest thing she had to a home. Still, she never stayed there more than a couple nights at a time. The owners didn’t seem to notice or mind that she was there, but it was one of Kam’s most important rules: never overstay your welcome.

  When Autumn was sure she was alone in the garden, she pulled out the pouch and looked at the coins inside. It was more money than she’d ever seen before. Her first thought was the sweets at the bakery. Kam’s rules came flooding back to her before she could give in to the temptation. If you get money, be careful not to spend it too fast. That’s what he always said. Only spend it on the essential things. Autumn thought of Kam and the coming winter. She started making a list in her head of the things that might help her to survive it.

  Resolved, Autumn carefully repacked the pouch and stood up. On her way out of the garden, she caught her reflection in the pond. Ugh, I look even worse than I thought. Reaching a hand up to her matted and grimy hair, she tried to think of the last time it had been clean. Pulling a single silver coin out of the belt, she smiled. Winter gear can wait a few hours. There’s something else I want to do first.

  

  That evening, the baker was about to close up shop when the bell on his door signaled a customer entering. A little girl peeked timidly up at him. She gave a shy smile and wave. The baker smiled back. The little girl was adorable, with her
long red hair pulled back into a single braid down her back and a smattering of freckles across the fair skin of her face. She was wearing a new wool cloak just a little too warm for the season. “Welcome, little lady! On an errand for your folks, or just getting a treat for yourself?”

  The girl’s soft shoes padded gently across the wooden floor as she walked towards the counter. She held out a silver coin and pointed to a fresh loaf of bread. The baker smiled and took the money, then wrapped the bread in paper to hand it to her. After a moment’s pause, he picked up a sweet roll and gave it to the girl. “Here you go, this is for you. Such a good little girl, running errands for the family!” The little girl smiled as she took the bread and the roll, then dashed off. The baker walked to the door and changed the sign to “Closed,” watching the sweet child scamper quickly down the street.

  Later that night, Autumn stretched out on her new wool cloak and enjoyed her unexpected treat while she looked up at the stars. It’s been a good day. The public baths are nice, I should go more often. She sighed contentedly. She was clean, she had new clothes and shoes, a warm wool cloak, and enough food to keep her for a week. She even had enough coins to last a month or two without begging if she was careful. Madame Clara was right, she thought as she drifted off to sleep. Things are starting to get better after all.

  That was the night that the nightmares began.

  Autumn had suffered from bad dreams since the night her father died, but these new nightmares were far worse. In her dream, she was in the garden, hiding in the hedges. She could feel the branches scratching her skin and smell the rich, earthy scent. A black-robed figure, like the cultists who had tried to kill her all those years ago, was searching the garden. She knew that if he found her, he would take her back to that horrible place and they would kill her. Just as the figure walked towards her hiding place, she woke up in a cold sweat.