Bought By The Masters

by Daniella Wright

  This doesn’t register with me. All I can think about is that Tiffany’s dead. I was too late to reach her, and when I poured all my magic into her, I ended up instead pumping The Morrigan into her shell.

  I caused this. And all Tiffany wanted to do was cheer me up. She just wanted to be a good friend… and now she’s fucking gone.

  “What’s the deal about assembling her?” Beron asks. He twitches a hand towards me, like he wants to comfort me, but pulls short. Alex has withdrawn away now as a simmering ball of rage. “Isn’t that a good thing, to return her to the Irish throne?”

  “It’s not a good thing. The rest of her bones are somewhere she can’t escape from. The person who intends to resurrect her wants to use her for the Great Wish.”

  Beron claps a hand to his mouth in apparent horror. “Is it near the time? Really?” I feel out of my depth yet again, and Alex lets out an irritated growl.

  The Morrigan clears her throat, gaining our attention, and in a flat voice, says, “Every five hundred and four years, I gain enough power to be able to grant a wish. I can’t grant my own wishes, but someone can demand one from me, and I will have no choice but to grant it.” She smiles, like she thinks she can see my thoughts, and I wonder for a moment if she actually can. “The power is significant. Enough to cause a hellish amount of destruction, should the wrong person demand it off me.”

  Alex splutters something about not caring about whether The Morrigan was a magical genie or not, but I hear something else in The Morrigan’s words.

  A faint hope stirs in the embers of grief. “Could I wish for Tiffany to return?”

  The Morrigan stares at me with Tiffany’s blue eyes, though I think I can detect the echo of the dark haired, sea-glass eyed woman from the mirror. “Yes,” she says, and a shock of excitement and hope ripples through me. She said yes. Alex falls silent in her complaints, registering The Morrigan’s response. “But not for another year and a half. The power will be dormant until then. Let’s hope you’re the one that gets the wish.” She pauses. “Note, however, that for a resurrection, only one person can benefit from it. As bringing someone back takes enormous energy. The gods of death are not pleased when someone takes back that which is supposed to remain dead. They have a strong, calamitous grip on souls.”

  “But...” Cato says, before falling silent.

  “But what?” I say, challenging him. Just daring him to say his thoughts.

  A fierce glare from Beron seems to crumple the last of Cato’s resistance. “Alright. Fine. We’ll use the wish for your friend. I was only thinking that it’s a huge power. And it’s very rare. But of course, of course you’d want to use it for your friend.” He appears pissed off, and I know it’s because of me. Because he wanted to use that Great Wish.

  “My friend died,” I say, hating the words coming out my lips, because even though I know them to be true, it’s another thing to have death said so plainly, “and it should never have happened. She didn’t ask for the implant. She didn’t deserve this.”

  “Most people don’t deserve to die,” Cato says, and his expression is rather cool. “And you’re not the only person to have lost someone. But seeing as The Morrigan is occupying your friend’s body... I will allow it.”

  Allow, he says. Meanwhile, Alex has grown even more still, and I remember in a rush of guilty shock – she lost her father and brother in a car accident eight years ago. T-boned in what should have been a normal shopping trip by a driver running through red lights.

  And Tiffany herself had recently lost her grandmother. Onset dementia.

  My hope extinguishes almost as fast as it appeared.

  If The Morrigan’s capable of granting a wish like that – to bring back the dead, then I can think of a number of people who would grab that kind of power for themselves. Clearly, Cato had intended to do so. Even though he’d offered to step back in light of the fact of my friend.

  Shit, this is complicated.

  The Morrigan seems to read my mind, for she says, “There are so many people, and so many wishes. I would grant them all if I could, but some dreams are dark and knotted, and others create knock-on effects no one can possibly anticipate. I would wear your friend’s face until my wish-granting is gone. Then I suppose it will be up to you to see what you want done with my essence. Since I won’t be needed for another five hundred years. And you can’t burn or dissolve my bones. People have tried.”

  I don’t believe her, despite the eloquence of her words. I don’t think someone like her would be content to relinquish life once given it. I know I wouldn’t. But her words are kind for now. And her eyes have softened, no longer imperious, but sympathetic.

  Cato sighs. “Feels like my life’s getting more complicated by the second. Who would have thought Gentleman happened to be holding the bone of The Morrigan in his macabre collection?” He pauses, and the same question likely pops up in all of our minds in that moment. “And why on earth would he allow such a powerful object to be placed into a human he intended to sell? Why would he not sell to that collector who you claim has the majority of your bones?”

  None of us can answer that. Not even The Morrigan, and she was the one who had absorbed all the information. Somehow. Not that I would have a clue how the fuck a bone can pick up anything. Magic isn’t exactly my field of expertise.

  After a long, icy silence, Cato clears the air once more. “I will send for a Vow-Maker later. Once you three,” he says, with a pointed glare at The Morrigan, “have made the Vow, then I will escort you out into Halberg. it’s not right to keep you locked up. And as long as I advertise you as guests, we can hope that no one will suspect of the contract made with your names. And you will be allowed to call your homes.”

  Home. My mother and father pop up into my mind then, and a true, heartfelt smile breaks through the ice for the first time since dealing with Tiffany.

  Yes. It would be nice to call home again.

  Though I still have no idea how I’m going to explain Tiffany for a year and a half, until that wish is made.

  Or if someone else snatches it away from me.

  Cato

  I progressed from lacking any responsibilities to suddenly dealing with several women at once, none who can leave Halberg without the demon’s curse kicking in. At the best, they’d simply die of something debilitating like cancer or motor neuron disease. The other side would be instant punishment, like a car hitting, or a lightning bolt striking out of thin air.

  I watch the women make their calls on my cellphone, standing close to listen into their conversation, to make sure the Vow’s working. I’m also praying that they don’t do something stupid like try to run away from me. It’s a risk, taking them out as it is, and I had to argue with my father long and hard to allow it, maintaining that we could create an illusion of guests staying at our place, rather than contracted slaves bought from the black market being imprisoned in our basement.

  The Seal masks their magic, which would instantly give them away as slaves, and the Vow locks up their tongue if they attempt to reveal sensitive information. My father utterly insisted on these conditions, and I didn’t have a mind to disobey. I understand his caution, and it’s horrible to restrict the girls more than they are already, but if I don’t respect my father’s wishes, he’s the kind of person who might resort to more extreme measures. Measures that may or may not include silencing the women permanently, just so nothing interferes. I hear Alex seize up several times as she speaks to her loved ones, and watch her face darken when she realizes how completely the Vow hides her words. Roze, in the meanwhile, locks up only once, and tells her parents that she’s staying over at some lord’s house in Halberg for a bit while she gets her shit together. I appreciate the lie, though I’ve clamped down on her ability to convey the entire truth. Still, at least she’s making an effort, unlike Alex, who I think might be a problem. So Beron is sticking to her like glue.

  Rather miserably, Roze had asked if The Morrigan could make a call to Tiffany
’s family, and maybe pretend to be Tiffany. The Morrigan agreed, but warned that she could not impersonate Tiffany as she didn’t know the girl’s personality. Roze gave her a quick crash course, while Alex wanted nothing to do with it, to associate with this obvious impostor. Roze at least went with it. The Morrigan’s conversation on the phone was brief and curt, and I doubt her performance was entirely convincing.

  Though it does cement the fact that Roze fully intends to use The Morrigan’s Great Wish to bring back precisely one person.

  I’m stressed because I truly want to do right by Roze. But a part of me is mortified that I’ll just let her waste the wish like that.

  I don’t want to sound like an asshole, so I’m not saying anything: but I think that wish could be put to better use. It’s game changing. In the past, The Morrigan held a total of two tourneys when they were all the rage, and the one who won the tournament could be allowed to stay with her and extract a wish. Unfortunately, that wish turned out to be devastating if you happened to belong to the kingdom of Lyonesse in the Cornish region of the now United Kingdom – also linked with Camelot.

  Millions of people ended up drowning beneath the waves, because the tourney winner happened to have a deep seated, racial hatred of the Lyons.

  That’s the kind of power The Morrigan’s Great Wish has. She’s drowned Atlantis, caused the fall of the Greek Pantheon, set in event for the fall of Ragnarok at some indeterminable point in the future, and quite possibly was the one who caused the downfall of the Assyrians and of the Egyptians.

  And to use that kind of power just to bring back one human? It’s utterly ridiculous. I could make the world so much better. And I wouldn’t be using it to drown civilizations and eradicate people.

  There must be a way around it. Assuming someone doesn’t uncover The Morrigan’s new location and Roze’s link to her, I’ll find a way to make the wish work for more than one person. Or perhaps persuade Roze in that year and a half that there could be a better way to distribute the wish.

  I sound like a monster – but there could be so much good done in the world. So much, in the right hands.

  Which is also why I haven’t told my father who The Morrigan is, yet. I think he would want to lock her up, the same as the one currently on the hunt for her bones. I think he would insert his own version of an ideaл world, which clashes somewhat with mine. He believes it necessary for some people to die. He’d believe in sacrificing a large chunk of the population to increase prosperity for the ones that remain.

  Roze ambles up to me as we walk down a slippery, icy runway, clinging onto the sides, while other people use skates to glide about the place. It’s a preferred means of travel in parks, and we have icy sidepaths like designated bike routes, specifically for those who make a habit of ice skating. The glint of white-yellow sparks spray from the blades of the skates, and the chaotic freedom has drawn the attention of all the women, even The Morrigan, who seems impressed at how the magic is used.

  “What did you hope to achieve,” I ask Roze, when her attention is on me, rather than clinging desperately to the side railing to prevent slipping, “once you had finished your holiday? You said that you were not sure if you wanted to go back into hospital work. Did you have any back up plans?”

  “None. I had nothing,” Roze admits, and she appears to shrink into herself. “Maybe I would have tried again, but my last hospital didn’t exactly leave a glowing recommendation behind. They tore me to shreds, actually.”

  “I see.” I’m hit by a sudden impulse to offer her something. To try and secure her a job within Halberg in one of the ordinary hospitals, but I also suspect she wouldn’t appreciate service like that. Someone who has spent their entire life aiming for one thing tends to hate hand-outs. “One thing you could consider: once everything blows over a little, is maybe opening a little practice of your own. Using your magic, rather than your former training. This can be legalized in districts that enable human freedom.”

  “Will that be allowed so publicly?” Roze frowns as she studies me, and bites her lip in a way that’s entirely too distracting. “I thought humans with magic were consigned to bolstering private businesses, given that you’re not too fond of those with stolen powers.”

  “Well, private businesses earn a lot of money, as long as they don’t advertise what’s funding them,” I say, lifting up one side of my face in a smile. “And who knows? Maybe we’ll pass a bill that allows you to be in the open. It’s always a possibility. You’re technically legal as it is, but there’s heavy opposition on the matter.”

  Just as we’re smiling, and I’m starting to believe we can salvage the situation between us in a way that suggests a better future between us, one man stops directly in front of Roze, Alex, and The Morrigan, and spits at their feet. He then glares at me, and there’s hatred in his piggy eyes. I wonder how much of our conversation he’s heard, and suddenly feel mortified of how publicly I’ve been talking, though I have been making an effort to keep my voice down.

  Talk about being an idiot.

  “I hope to the gods that your bill fails,” he hisses at me, which causes a squirm of unease in my stomach. “Humans shouldn’t be allowed to roam free. They don’t deserve it.”

  “And pray, how many do you have locked up in your house?” Beron says politely, though his expression is anything but polite. His whole body towers menacingly over the man, who, although tall, has nothing on Beron’s size and girth. I clamp a hand on The Morrigan’s shoulder, because there’s a thunderous expression building upon her face, and although I don’t know how strong her magic is without her entire body, I’d rather not have it tested out in public, when everyone thinks these are three normal humans. Two have implants, one’s an ancient sorceress, and all three are enslaved.

  Would be slightly awkward to be outed on that little amount of detail.

  “Humans have every right to be free,” I tell him flatly. “And their technology is more than a match for our magic nowadays. It would be wise to treat them with respect.”

  He makes to spit again, but is cut off mid-hawk by Beron seizing him by the scruff of his neck and lifting him, so that his feet dangle off the ground. People pause to watch in interest as Beron says, “How would you like me to deal with this scum, master?”

  “Well,” I say, considering.

  “I would take his head from his body and be done with it,” The Morrigan says, and Roze and Alex stare at her with as much alarm as I feel.

  We don’t do that anymore, I think, while I say, “Let him slide down the street a little. No need for public executions in this day and age.” I slide some stinkeye The Morrigan’s way, but she ignores it.

  Beron happily pitches his arms close to his chest, before thrusting outwards, sending the yellow-eyed man flying, before he hits and skids a long distance over the icy pathway, causing people to jump over and around him to avoid a collision. A few people cheer, others pretend nothing happened, as we all continue on our sedate way to explore this little region of Halberg.

  “Humans don’t say that kind of thing,” Roze says to The Morrigan, who doesn’t seem to pay much heed to the statement. Seems she’s been blithely ignoring us whenever we ask her to curb her more destructive instincts. Try to mention that laws have changed and all that.

  “I never claimed to be one. And I’m afraid I come from a rather different age from you,” she says. “In my time, public executions were rife. Torture commonplace. It feels like the world has grown softer since. Though it was already softening at the point where they dismembered me.”

  “Keep it quiet,” I hiss, because this isn’t the sort of thing I want said in a public space, where some individuals have sensitive hearing. “Let’s not make it blindingly obvious who you are. I thought you wanted to hide?”

  “Hide, but not be a mouse,” The Morrigan declares. Her head turns back to face the sullen shifter treated to an icy floor. “Such open disrespect should hold more severe punishment. It’s astonishing that you don’
t punish character slurs.”

  “I agree,” Roze says, surprising me. The Morrigan twitches an eyebrow.

  “You do?”

  “Yes. People are far too disrespectful nowadays. They think they can bully, intimidate, do whatever they want without consequence.” Roze’s fists are clenched, and I suspect this is more to do with her former workplace than with the man who spat at her feet.

  “When you remove consequence from actions, the actions become worse,” The Morrigan says. “People give into cruel impulses if they believe there is no judgment.”

  There is truth in that, I think. Without consequence, many people would push boundaries. But I also don’t know if it is right to punish.

  Our walk continues the same way, exploring the ice paths, breaths frosting the air in puffs of cream, until we reach the landing zone where the flying shifters transport friends and customers. When we stop in an empty space, I make sure to catch Roze’s eye before telling her, “Let’s give you a better view of the city, shall we?” Just before I begin my transformation.

  Roze

  Turns out, dragon-riding is in my top list of things to never do again. They make it look so easy in the movies, but I’m not a fan of gripping onto cold scales and desperately trying not to fall off, no matter how iridescent those scales might be. Cato as a dragon is every bit as magnificent as I suspected. He wasn’t as big as I thought he might have extended, but he was still of a size to comfortably support five or so people on his back – more than enough for two humans, a witch, and a bear shifter. His scales were a deep, abyssal blue, tapering into dark, bat-like wings that spread out from what might have been his shoulder joints. Four legs like scaly tree trunks with white petaled claws protruded from his body, and a long, thin, whip-like tail ended at the tip like an arrow-point.