Total pages in book: 222
Estimated words: 210715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1054(@200wpm)___ 843(@250wpm)___ 702(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 210715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1054(@200wpm)___ 843(@250wpm)___ 702(@300wpm)
“Gag her,” Hade said.
A pulse of red tore from the mage. It burst against Arale and jerked her up on her toes, snapping her into a rigid, tortured pose. She must’ve tried to move and been unable to, because nobody could stand on their toes like that without pointe shoes.
“The Garden thanks you for your gracious assistance,” Galiene told me and glanced at the guards. “Show our guests to the East Room. Ciste will be with you shortly.”
It was time for my exit. I turned and followed the guards out, Solentine and Everard in tow.
“May I have her?” the mage asked behind me. “They are hungry.”
“You may,” Galiene said.
As we stepped out of the room, the guards shut the door behind us, but before it closed, I caught a flash of bright gold spiraling out of the mage’s hands. It looked like a swarm of glowing butterflies. As they streamed toward Arale, the look in her eyes was pure terror.
The East Room was lovely. The three of us sat at a large table, enjoying the view of the hill from a large window. Arale’s panicked eyes kept popping up out of my memory, and my mouth tasted like ash. I really wanted to get out of here.
The door swung open and Ciste came inside and sat at our table. He looked about as happy to be here as I was.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet us,” I said.
No response.
I pushed the contract toward him. “Can you tell us if there is a spell on this contract?”
He passed his hand over it and stared at the paper like it was a snake about to bite him. “Burn it.”
What?
“What is it?” Everard asked.
“It is lugur campur,” he said.
“A life chain?” I asked.
Ciste narrowed his eyes. “You speak Sareso.”
Apparently I did. Sareso was the language of magic. That opened all sorts of possibilities, but right now I needed to concentrate on the contract.
“What does ‘life chain’ mean?” I asked.
“When you sign this contract and seal it with your blood, you will be bound to it. If the contract is destroyed, it will kill you.”
Oh my god.
“This a vile thing born of the Crimson Usurper and his death mages,” Ciste said. “It is made with blood and suffering, and it’s been outlawed for three hundred years.”
Three hundred forty years ago, a usurper mage claimed the throne of the Crimson Empire and unleashed a cult of his death mages on the continent. He reigned for almost three decades, bringing war, slavery, and mass sacrifices everywhere he went until he invaded Rellas, and his legions fell before the meat grinder of Rellasian knights. In the final battle, Romel Savaric sang his way through the Usurper’s sorcery and personally cut off the dictator’s head. The Crimson Empire recoiled, Rellas gained a new ruling dynasty, and owning human beings was outlawed in both countries, which made it illegal on the majority of the continent.
The mage stared at us, his dark eyes unreadable. “Should you be found with it, you will be stripped of your name, your lands will be forfeit, and you will be exiled.”
The fractured pieces of an idea that had been floating in my head snapped together.
“What if someone has more than one?” I asked.
“Death.”
Perfect.
This could work. It was a reckless plan that hinged on me being able to read Sareso correctly, and that was a massive, huge if. If I failed . . . It didn’t matter. I had to succeed because we were out of options.
“Last question,” I said. “Why does it push me away when I try to touch it?”
“You have too much magic. It seeks to protect you from harm, so it warns you not to hurt yourself.”
“Thank you,” I said.
The mage rose and walked away without another word.
Everard and Solentine got up at the same time.
“We’re leaving,” Everard said under his breath.
“The sooner, the better,” Solentine muttered.
Three minutes later we were in the carriage, rolling away from the Garden plaza.
Solentine pulled the coif off his face. “Is there no low Hreban won’t sink to?”
“Apparently not,” Everard said.
“I have to go to the harbor,” I said.
The two of them turned to me.
“Hreban’s grandfather was an evil, hard son of a bitch, and he had high hopes for his grandson. Ulmar grew up by his desk, and from the time he was a toddler, Ulmar saw people fawn, bow, and scrape before his grandfather, while their hearts brimmed with contempt and hate. Ulmar doesn’t trust people. He trusts signatures. He is compulsive about putting things in writing, because his grandfather taught him that people lie, but once you have their signature, you have them in your grasp.”
I pointed at the contract. “This is irresistible to him. A foolproof way to ensure that he isn’t betrayed. These contracts can’t be easy to get, and they don’t come cheap. The mercenaries on Otrade’s crew wouldn’t have lived long anyway and if they were caught, even if they implicated Hreban, their word doesn’t matter without proof.”