by Drew Hayes
“Ah, there’s my undead worker. How’s the will coming?” His voice was a little slurred, though not nearly as bad as I’d expected from the number of empty bottles rolling around near him. Perhaps he’d been going slower than the rest of us realized, or maybe mages had a higher tolerance than I knew. Neil was too young to drink, and Amy tended to prefer her own work, so I didn’t have a great example to work from.
“It’s almost done,” I told him. “We’ve found a way to split it all up evenly. The last part is determining which of you gets the tools.”
“Those damned things.” Zane lifted the bottle to his lips and found it nearly empty, so he set it aside and began to search for another.
“Here.” I grabbed one of the few wines I recognized from the shelf, a cabernet sauvignon that I’d always wanted to try, and handed it to him. “You may as well stick to red, since you’ve made the commitment.”
“An excellent idea.” Instead of reaching for a wine opener, he pulled out his wand and mumbled what sounded like gibberish under his breath before tapping it to the top of the bottle. To my surprise, the cork began to worm its way upward, eventually dislodging and falling to the ground with a small pop. He took a long draw from the bottle, then offered it to me. “Care for a sip?”
“You should really decant something like this first.” I took the bottle anyway and slid down to the ground next to him, taking a deep whiff of the wine before allowing it to actually hit my tongue.
“It’s just the cheap stuff.” He leaned back, letting his head rest on the cool stone wall behind us. “Always assumed they’d go to Ainsley, you know.” It was a bit of a topic jump, but with how little we’d both talked, I had no problem sussing out his meaning.
“The tools?”
“Of course, the tools. She’s a better enchanter than me. Better than Dad, too, and he had over a century of experience on her.”
It was a good thing I’d yet to sip the wine, because I would have snorted it out at his words. I knew that mages lived longer than most people, though I’d never thought to ask why, but over a century . . . that was more than I’d been expecting.
“It just seemed like a lock, you know,” Zane continued, either unaware or unbothered by the surprise in my face. “Ainsley was the one who could do the best enchanting, so she would be the one who got the tools. I was just the guy who did the talking, worked the deals, and got us a few extra percents on the bottom line.”
“That’s nothing to undersell,” I told him. “Businesses live and die by their profit margins.” Now that the wine’s scent had fully been appreciated, I allowed myself to take a small swallow from the bottle. It was so heavenly that for a moment I actually forgot the situation and just allowed myself to revel in the joy dancing along my tongue.
“Do we particularly look like we need the extra margins?” Zane gestured to the cellar, but he just as easily could have been pointing to the house, the estate, as a whole. “No one cared that I brought in more money; there was always so much of it. At least, that’s what I thought.”
I handed him back the bottle, which he took a glugging drink from, spilling more than a few drops down his neck to an already stained shirt. “What changed your mind?”
“Well, he didn’t leave the tools to Ainsley, did he? He left it up to us to figure out who should get them. Sort of felt like Dad was giving me a chance. Saying that I could get them, if I proved myself worthy.” He sighed and took another drink, then handed me back the bottle. “Instead, I’ve gotten into a pissing match with my sister just like when we were kids, dragged a lot of innocent people along for the ride, and hid away in the cellar. Truly, a son to be proud of.”
“In all fairness, Ainsley is being just as stubborn, and she’s locked herself in her workshop.” I’m not sure why I felt bad for Zane. He was part of the reason we were stuck, and none of things he just said were untrue. Even more, he seemed like the kind of person I should have despised. Wealthy, charismatic, and handsome, he’d been handed all the advantages in life that I hadn’t, yet I couldn’t bring myself to hold that against him. I guess I just knew a little too well what it was like to not be what your parents were hoping for.
“For her, this probably feels like a robbery. The tools were supposed to be hers, and now she’s scared of losing them to her screw-up of a brother. Can’t say I blame her for digging in. Truth is, Ainsley should get the tools. I understand it, you know, deep in my gut, but I just can’t bring myself to let go.” He pulled out his wand once more, rolling it gently between his fingers. “I’m a lot of things, and I’ve made peace with most of them. I just don’t want to be a quitter. I want to fight. I want to prove that I can make the old man proud, too.”
It was hard to think of a way to fault him, or to argue with that sentiment, so, instead, I just took another sip from the bottle of wine. Somehow, it wasn’t quite as magical as the first time around. Maybe I’d already gotten used to it, or, more likely, Zane’s sadness just made it impossible to find such joy in a fermented liquid.
I could see that he was nearing the breaking point, guilt slowly gaining on pride and determination. He’d break in a day or so on his own, and if I pushed him carefully, we might be free in the next few hours. Yet, to my own surprise, now that the key to our escape was within reach, part of me didn’t want it. Not like this. Zane was right; he deserved the chance to prove himself, just as Ainsley did.
And I was beginning to have an inkling of an idea of how to give them just that.
7.
Based on Bubba’s meals and Asha’s need for rest, it took another day to do the fresh contracts. We probably could have pounded them out in half the time if we’d raced through it, but the one good thing about being trapped in a timeless pocket dimension is that there’s no compulsion to rush. Instead, Asha and I took our time, crossing every “t” and dotting every “i” to make sure our work was airtight. Given that we were dealing with mages and an enchanted will, it seemed prudent to leave no wiggle room anywhere in our documents. That was the sort of thing that would just open up more trouble down the line.
Finally, when we were sure the language was word-perfect, we waited until Bubba made a food delivery, and then asked him to bring everyone to the study. Less than ten minutes later, Ainsley, Bubba, Amy, and Zane entered the room, in that order. No words passed between the siblings as everyone took their seats, though Amy filled the silence by asking Bubba about his recipe for the omelets he’d made that “morning.” When everyone was seated, I looked to Asha to start things off. She was the lawyer and main employee, after all. I was just the numbers guy.
“Before we get going, let me double check. Are either of you willing to let the other have the enchanting tools in exchange for the lion’s share of the rest of the estate?” Asha’s eyes darted between Zane and Ainsley, neither of whom spoke, though both looked far less stalwart than they had when first making their ultimatums. I had a hunch that, now that they had both cooled down, it was as much a matter of pride as it was actually wanting the inheritance.
“About what we expected,” Asha continued. “Fine, then. You’ve forced Fred and me to really think outside the box on this one, since none of us want to spend the next forty years stuck in here. So, here is what we’re proposing as a compromise.”
That was my cue. I rose from the desk, contracts in hand, and made my way around the large table, now almost completely cleared off of all the clutter we’d needed to work with. I laid a stack of documents in front of Ainsley, then Zane, before returning to my seat, where an identical packet was already waiting. They began flipping through the pages the moment they got them, and before I was even settled, I heard Ainsley’s voice echo through the room.
“Joint custody?”
“Temporary joint custody,” Asha corrected. “Since neither of you is willing to give up your claim on the tools, it seemed like this was the best way to determine who should get them. For the next year, you’ll alternate days where the enchanting tools are yours
to use. In that time, you will both work to build the Clover business as best you can. You’ll find and book your own clients, do your own work, and make your own money. After a year’s time, Fred and I will sit down to look at the numbers. Whoever does the best business will get the tools. Couldn’t be more fair.”
“Why should I have to compete for my rightful inheritance?” Ainsley demanded.
“Because it’s not yours yet.” I actually hadn’t planned on speaking, but sometimes poor social skills means blurting out the things you didn’t want to say as much as losing the chance to say the ones you did. Still, I’d stepped in it, so it seemed the best course of action was to press on. “Your father’s will left you both equal claim to these tools. Maybe he did want you to have them; everyone seems to agree you’re the better enchanter. But maybe he wanted you to earn them, rather than just be given them. This way, neither of you ever has to wonder if Herbram chose the right person to carry on the legacy. The winner will be the one who proves themselves most worthy.”
My eyes may have flicked to Zane at that, and I caught sight of a small grin on the corner of his lips. To my surprise, Ainsley actually seemed to calm down as well. Maybe she and Zane weren’t so different, after all; they both wanted the chance to show that they were the rightful heir.
“Now, obviously, there is always the chance that in the coming year you might need to work together on something,” Asha said, bringing us back to the technical arrangements she and I had planned out. “The Clover name is a prestigious one, and Zane might find a client who needs an enchantment that even Herbram would have struggled with. In those cases, rather than doing a slipshod job or turning the client down altogether, there is a provision allowing him to work with Ainsley. You both get equal credit for the job, and the payment is split evenly into both your ledgers. Much as we want to see who the best is, I think we can all agree that preserving the Clover reputation is equally important.”
Zane and Ainsley both nodded, almost in unison. It was possibly the first thing I’d seen them agree on since arriving at the mansion. Asha was visibly relieved; getting this far along meant that they weren’t dismissing the idea outright. Truth be told, we didn’t have a Plan B if this failed, aside from waiting for one of them to crack. For their sakes, I hoped they went along with our idea. It seemed a good bet that either one actually winning sole ownership of the tools would drive a wedge between them that would not be easily broken. And nothing, not even a generations-long legacy, was worth losing their family over.
“There is one more provision to discuss.” Asha turned a page in her own packet, a signal for them to do the same, which neither twin picked up on. “Should the year end and you decide that more time is needed, perhaps because there are joint projects to finish or business to wrap up, you can elect to not call us back for the review. In which case, the agreement rolls over for another year. However, and I cannot stress this enough, should that happen, then the rules change slightly.”
Zane and Ainsley leaned in closer, as did Bubba and Amy for some reason. I guess after being cooped up for so long, even contract discussion was exciting for them to watch.
“The first year is an impartial timeframe. You both start from the same place and get the same amount of time to work in,” Asha explained. “After that, it’s a little different. One of you could backend your business, destroy in the second year, and then call us in to review what looks like a successful business when it is really an emptied out pipeline. So, in the interest of fairness, if you collectively choose not to call us in at the end of the first year, the contract stays in effect until you both agree to have us make the determination. Neither of you gets to pull a fast one on the other. Any objections?”
“My sister and I sometimes have . . . issues . . . seeing eye-to-eye,” Zane said. “It might take a while before we can agree on a year when we both feel like we’ve got a shot at winning.”
Which, in truth, was exactly what Asha and I were counting on. These two were skillful in their own right, but neither would be as strong alone as they were together. If they could never agree on a year to bring us back, then they’d be stuck with each other, building the family business bigger and more respected than it ever was before. And, more importantly, neither had to lose or resent the other over their father’s legacy.
“Then just have us come in at the end of the first year,” Asha replied, keeping a far better poker face than I would have managed. “We added that stipulation for your benefit, not ours, in case you decide one year isn’t long enough. Either of you can call us to make the determination at the end of that first year. Of course, since this is a competition, I’d have to advise you to keep your books secret from one another. But honestly, they’re your records, do what you want with them.”
“About that . . . .” Ainsley’s voice had cooled; quick as she was to anger, she was just as fast at letting it go—at least when not being continually provoked. “Zane and I aren’t really the best record keepers, and this seems like it requires a lot of that.”
“I’d recommend you both hire personal assistants, then,” Asha suggested. “You’ve got the cash for it, and I’m sure there are countless younger mages that would jump at the chance to work for the Clover family. Just to ensure accuracy though, Fred has agreed to do a quarterly review of both sets of books. For a fair rate, of course.”
Neither had an immediate argument for that; I was about as independent a party as they were going to get. Instead, they looked at each other across the table, for what might very well have been the first time they’d made eye contact since their initial fight.
“I’m okay with this if you are,” Zane said, breaking the silence first. “We both get a fair shot at Dad’s tools, and it’s not the best enchanter or schmoozer that wins. It’s whoever does the best business.”
“My quality versus your quantity.” Ainsley actually smiled as she spoke, nodding her head just a bit. “At least we can put the argument to bed. And I want you to know that, when I win, there will still be a place for you in the company. Those valets need supervising.”
“I was about to say the same to you, though I was going to let you know that your new office will be in the corner of the basement,” Zane teased back.
Just like that, the tension that had been filling the mansion since that red bubble first appeared began to dissipate. Asha pulled out several pens and slid them down to where the twins were sitting.
“Let’s get you to sign those documents, and when you’re happy with that, we can have you autograph Herbram’s will and get the hell out of here.”
“Sounds good to me,” Zane agreed, reaching for a pen. “And, Ainsley, I’m sorry. Not just about this fight, but about all the partying lately. It’s just that the mansion feels kind of . . . empty since Dad passed. I guess I was trying to avoid that as much as possible.”
“I know,” Ainsley said, picking up her own pen as well. “I always knew that was why you were doing it, but instead of leaving my workshop, I just shut the doors tighter. That’s where he and I used to do most of our work, and if I got deep enough in a project, I could sort of forget that he was gone for a little while. But I should have come out to check on how you were doing, instead of leaving you alone. So, I’m sorry, too.”
The loud pop that filled the air rattled the table, along with everything else in the room that was not bolted down. Right on the heels of the burst was the screech of music that I’d managed to forget was playing, along with the chatter of hundreds of people out on the lawn, moving about like nothing had happened. Which, for them, it hadn’t.
We all stared at each other, momentarily shocked by the sudden change. All save for Amy, whose now glowing orange eyes merely swept the room before she gave a half-hearted shrug.
“Guess you just needed to apologize, after all.”
8.
To my incredible relief, no longer being trapped inside a pocket dimension didn’t dampen Ainsley and Zane’s enthusiasm for the agreeme
nt. Asha and I walked them through the contracts, while Bubba and Amy helped the rest of the guards shut down the party. This was done half because we wanted less noise while working, and half because he and Amy had done a lot of cooking and alchemy experiments downstairs, which meant that the longer people were down there, the greater the chance of them noticing the sudden changes. Thankfully, the fight had come after the party was in full swing, which meant most of the guests were too liquored up to notice anything more than a few inches in front of them. Cars were pulled up, drivers taken off break, and one by one, the wealthy and well-dressed guests were hustled off the Clover property.
Meanwhile, we spent an hour and a half walking the twins through every page before they signed, making certain they understood what they were agreeing to. Anyone could see their eyes glaze over after the first fifteen minutes, but Asha and I were professionals, and as such, we were accustomed to that, just as we knew it didn’t change our duty to explain it all anyway. Better bored for an hour than feeling swindled for a lifetime.
Finally, the guests were gone and the last signatures on our contracts were drying. Each got an equal share of the estate—which had been a much easier task after we’d pulled the tools out of the equation—and now, there was only one document left to sign, but it was by far the most important.
Herbram’s will was as thick and largely illegible as ever. Asha set it down at the far end of the table, forcing both Zane and Ainsley to walk over to it. I’ll confess that, up to this point, I’d been worried that there was some other aspect to signing that we weren’t privy to. A magical quill, ink from their own blood, really anything along those lines. As it turned out, a cheap plastic pen and regular ink did the job, as each of the twins leaned over and scratched their signatures onto the bottom of the page. Unimpressive as the signing was, what came next was a sight to behold.