by Samuel Fort
Chapter 15 - The Contract
The room in which they met to review Ben’s membership contract was modest. There were no windows and every wall was concealed behind tall oak and mahogany bookshelves, the volumes on the shelves clad in leather bindings with spines bearing gold letters. Scattered about the room on various tables were maps, compasses, pens, and abstruse wooden platters that Ben thought resembled Chinese Checker boards. Papers cluttered the floor.
A desk with a black granite top was just inside the doorway. Ridley sat behind it in a chair the size and style of a small throne, while Ben, Lilian, and Fiela sat on the opposite side. There was a thick blue candle on the edge of the workspace, which Ridley lit with a disposable lighter.
He said, “The contract is ready for your review.” He handed a stack of papers to each of his guests, saying to Ben, “I’ve prepared an English version for you, Ben.”
“Thanks,” the researcher said, and began to read. It didn’t take him long to realize that, English or not, the document was practically indecipherable.
The second paragraph on the fourth page, for example, read, “If the mutu knowingly permits the privations of the asatu’s offspring, and those offspring were permitted by decree (of the pertinent House’s committees) in time of war, but are disavowed by the asatu’s parents as products of illicit and unauthorized acts of procreation having occurred outside the parameters of the war, the eldest of the offspring, if adult, shall represent the asatu unless it is shown that the offspring has been unduly influenced by a serretu to misrepresent the state of privation. Should misrepresentation of said nature be confirmed…”
He could feel his eyelids drooping by the start of the fifth page, at which point he realized he was reading without actually reading. It was like studying a European social charter upside down. It was just words and more words and really, what did any of it matter? He was entering into this faux-marriage-of-convenience with nothing to lose. He had no fetches or rights or authorities that could be taken from him and the Nisirtu did not use or want money. The only reason the contract existed was to facilitate his access to the tablets.
Right?
“Looks good,” he said, having pretended to at least scan each page. He placed it on the desk.
Ridley nodded and Ben busied himself reading the titles on the spines of the book on the shelf behind the scribe. Jorge Borges, Albert Camus, John Calvin, Edward FitzGerald, and HP Lovecraft appeared to the man’s favorite authors, if the sampling was any indication. Rather an eclectic selection, the linguist thought.
A moment later Lilian furrowed her brow and said something in Agati to Ridley that made Fiela look up. Ridley answered at length, pointing to his niece and counting something off on his fingers. Lilian seemed surprised and began to object but the scribe cut her off by resuming his explanation, this time more slowly and with more emphasis. Fiela, looking very pleased, asked a question of her uncle. He nodded and looked back at Lilian.
“Would someone tell me what’s going on, please?” Ben asked.
Lilian took in a breath and said, “Ridley requires that Fiela be made serretu. My surrogate.”
“Surrogate? What does that mean?”
Ridley said, “It means that if Lilian is unavailable, Fiela will take her place as your primary sponsor. It simply provides for continuity.”
Ben shrugged. “That doesn’t sound like a big deal. Am I missing something?”
Lilian lowered her eyes and said, “I’m sure it is inconsequential. I do not plan on becoming unavailable.” She defiantly placed her copy of the contract back on the scribe’s desk. “The contract is acceptable.”
A minute later Fiela returned her copy, nodding.
“Excellent,” said the scribe. “Now, if you would each sign all three copies, we can move on to other things.” He held out a fountain pen and each did as he requested. After the signatures were in place he said to Ben, “As proof of the dowry, I will drop some wax next to your name and you’ll need to press the signet of your ring into the wax to make an imprint.”
“Okay,” said the other man, and watched as the scribe tilted the blue candle to drop a ball of wax next to each of his signatures. Before the wax could cool, Ben leaned over and pressed the signet into each.
“Well done,” said Ridley, as if the other man were a kindergartner who had just written his name correctly for the first time. Putting the papers to one side the scribe leaned back and exhaled, rubbing his palms against the arms of his chair as if to dissipate built-up excitement.
“It is official,” he announced. “I’ll have these distributed to the other Houses immediately. Now, with regards to the reception…”
“Reception?” asked Ben.
“Yes. The people love a good show and I think you two,” he gazed at Fiela and Lilian, “merit more than a piece of paper, yes?”
“Thank you, uncle,” said Fiela.
“The people,” said Ben. “You mean other members of the Nisirtu, I assume.”
“A few friends, yes. It will be held the day after tomorrow, in the Great Hall. I took the liberty of sending out the invitations this morning. It will give you the opportunity, as a new member, to meet them, and vice versa. It will be to everyone’s benefit.” Before Ben could object, the old man clasped his hands in front him and said, “You know, you are, in a sense, my nephew now.”
“How’s that?”
“Fiela, my niece, is your surrogate wife.”
It took a moment for the words to register. Ben replied carefully, “I didn’t realize that Fiela would assume Lilian’s title as well as her function. But…well, that is only in Lilian’s absence, right?”
“Yes, but a serretu is granted the same rights as any wife. She may now call you Mutu, for example. Husband.”
Seeing the girl peering at him, the researcher strained to lift the corners of his mouth. It was a Herculean effort.
“As serretu she has now also become Lilian’s handmaiden - which is to say, personal assistant. Still, Fiela’s primary function is unchanged. She is your protector, and Lilian’s.”
“I won’t hurt you again, I promise,” said the Peth earnestly, apparently eager to step off on the right foot.
Ben tilted his head back and said a quick prayer.
The scribe cleared his throat. “Now, while the law does not require a dowry for a serretu, I stand in place of her father, and would like to ensure she is well cared for. I have therefore included in the contract a small gift for you.”
Ben looked up. “I don’t think that’s appropriate-”
“What did you give him, uncle?” interrupted Fiela excitedly, as if she were a child on Christmas morning.
“Serretu!” warned Lilian.
“Oh, he’s my uncle!” moaned the Peth.
“Just so,” said the old man. “Ben, I am granting you the right to occupy and use Steepleguard for as long as you wish, and the authority to bequeath those rights. In fact, all my authorities are yours.”
“What?” exclaimed Ben, dumbfounded.
Lilian was suddenly more upbeat. “When shall this be effective?”
“This very moment,” answered the scribe. “In fact, I included an addendum to your marriage contract that has made it official. The bioplates and other security measures have already been programmed to accept Ben’s signature DNA, fingerprints, and so forth. Yours too,” he said, looking at the women, “with the exception of the tablet repository in the cave and a few other rooms that will, for now, remain programmed for only Ben and me.”
“You are giving me this hotel?” asked Ben.
“No, I am giving you authority over it. Nisirtu do not own property. But you need not worry about the Ardoon ‘owner’ showing up to claim it. That is quite impossible.”
At a loss, the other man said, “Why are you doing this? I mean, I don’t want to seem ungrateful. This is beyond generous. Way, way beyond. I really don’t think I can accept-”
“It is done and c
annot be undone. Anyway, Steepleguard is too big for me. Always has been. I am ancient and will soon pass to the underworld. I can feel Asag tugging at my ankles each morning. It is time for me to legally dispose of my rights. Unfortunately, until last night, neither Fiela nor Lilian could inherit. Lilian is the illegitimate daughter of a king who warred against the other Houses and Fiela’s parents supported him. Yet these two were the only people I would consider transferring my rights to. With you I can now provide for them both in one fell swoop.”
“We are, as always, in your debt,” Lilian said, her earlier consternation with the man utterly forgotten. She dabbed at her eyes with a cloth. “My father would be pleased to find me returned to my family home.”
The scribe nodded. “I know, Lilian. You see, making Fiela serretu was the only way I could justify granting this gift to Ben, and thus, indirectly, to you.”
Sniffling, the woman said, “I am sorry for doubting you, Scriptus.” She seemed on the verge of sobbing and acting on instinct Ben put his arm around her. Without hesitation she leaned into his shoulder.
The scribe said to Lilian, “I must request one thing of you and my niece. Your perfumes. Please bring them to me before nightfall.”
“Perfumes?” asked Ben.
“Yes, I don’t suppose you’d know about that. Nisirtu females can concoct a potent perfume that, when inhaled by Ardoon males, has the effect of making its subjects rather malleable, which is to say, stupid and passive. It’s intended for self-defense but has been used quite effectively in other ways.”
Ben chuckled, amused at the concept, but noticed that Lilian had gone oddly silent. “Wait. Has this been used on me?”
“I doubt it,” Ridley lied. “The important thing is that you will become immune to its effects after prolonged exposure. Mind you, it is unique to each woman, so while you will grow immune to both Fiela’s and Lilian’s, you will be susceptible to that of other Nisirtu women.”
“What do you mean when you say unique?”
“I mean that if Lilian were to wear Fiela’s mix, there would be no effect, and vice versa. Apparently the woman’s chemistry interacts with the potion, or whatever you’d like to call it, and without that interaction, the perfume remains dormant.”
“What’s in it?” asked Ben.
Fiela said, “It’s a secret. Even uncle doesn’t know, do you?”
“No,” the old man admitted, “it is a recipe that has been passed down from woman to woman for thousands of years. There appears to be no male equivalent. I do know the name of a few of the herbal components but not in what quantities they are used. As to why the perfume is unique to each woman-”
“Use your imagination.” Fiela said suggestively.
“That is enough, Sister,” said Lilian, finally rousing herself from Ben’s shoulder.
The scribe faced Ben. “You’ll want to take a whiff or two several times a day for the next week or so but never when driving or operating heavy machinery. That’s what the label would say, if there was one.”
“I will collect Fiela’s perfume and bring both of ours to you, Scriptus,” said Lilian.
“Very good. Now,” rasped the scribe, “I understand you have a picnic to go to?”
