by JM Guillen
“They’ve got it square in Teredon.” He more mused the words than spoke them. “We’ll get our certificates and credentials, all official like. The rest of the world can fall apart.” He waved generally in the direction of the hinterlands, wobbling as he did. “We’ll be long gone.”
He oft gambled in hopes of that money but lost every time.
Yet I had believed him. For years we shared that wonderful dream. He would get us away from this crumbling city, save us from the pirates and the harriers and the bent things gibbering in the dark storms.
In the back of my heart, his little girl believed him still.
“So I was thinking as I was on my way over.” Royce turned toward me, his gaze like cold grease on my skin. “He doesn’t have the money. This little hovel ain’t worth half what I’m owed.” A wicked smile lurked in his eyes. “I can appropriate him as a debtslave, but he ain’t worth much. Be easier to throw him beyond the bounds. Let the gloaming storms have him.”
As Royce spoke, horror crawled through Da’s expression, but I couldn’t imagine what had stricken him so—
Then Royce lay a hand on me, his thick fingers tracing along my side. His hands were more than a touch friendly, and his chuckle came low and wicked.
“Then, I think, maybe this toffer has another way to pay his debts.”
Oh!
I turned to Royce, feeling serpentine waves of revulsion roiling through me. His eyes were bloodshot and dim, hidden behind dingy spectacles. He had teeth long yellowed from his tabac habit and the slightly vinegary tang of a man who couldn’t say no to a drink or seven.
“You won’t touch me.” My tone could have frozen a lake. “Or you’ll lose some fingers. I’ll chop ’em off and feed ’em to the tainted cavy-rats.”
“Ysabel.” His tone dripped, syrupy yet buttery smooth. “I’m here on business.”
He continued eyeing me like a prime cut of meat.
How my father could stand to be around him so much eluded me. Of course Royce owned half the exchequers in the northern Spire of Grand Essieus and ran a quarter of the gaming transactions therein, so perhaps my da saw only the golden sheen of the man’s clink.
My father was such a botcher. He never could see past the obvious.
“You want…” I let my words trail off, finding it impossible to meet the man’s gaze. Just thinking of his hands on me, his lips on my skin, made me want to retch.
“I want things square.” He gave me a wide, leering smile. “Just as you do. Let’s look you over, shall we, girlie?”
My skin grew clammy as he walked around me, his eyes like lashes of fetid desire. He paused behind me, pawing a bit while I bit my lip.
“Ysabel.” My father’s voice was soft, heartbroken. “I never meant—”
This time, Royce didn’t speak. At some flickering motion from him, Ogrim stepped across the room and launched a huge foot into my da’s midsection. He grunted loudly, as all the wind left him.
“I hope you get whore’s pox.” I breathed the words, seething, as Ogrim stood menacingly over my father. “I hope you die hurting and can’t find the wind to scream.”
“Yes, yes.” Royce stepped around me and gave me a lingering caress over the curve of my breast. “I think you may be just what I’m looking for, Ysabel.”
“Is that so?” I turned to him, all spite and fire. In the far-flung distance, I heard the thunder again and gave the man a feral grin. “You want to bend me over so my backside can pay for my father’s mistakes? Is it that hard for the gambol-head to find a bedwarmer?”
“What?” Royce barked an incredulous laugh. “Lost gods, no.” He turned merrily to Ogrim, who had a stupid grin on his face. “Thinks a lot of her purity, doesn’t she, Ogrim?”
“A far lot.” Ogrim chuckled, then spat on my mostly-clean floor.
“Ysabel, you’d be a sweet bit of fun, but a tup of your pretty mouth isn’t worth more than this hovel.” With a sleazy smile, he reached for my face, trailing his dirty fingers along my cheek. “Although, almost…”
I jerked away, my eyes angry.
“What then?” My voice dropped quieter, though my heart began to pound. If he didn’t want a roll, then…
Realization, like a wet trickle of despair, washed over me. He had said that my da would be useless as a debtslave. Me, on the other hand?
The studiousness in Royce’s eyes confirmed that fear.
“You’re a sweetmeat, Ysabel. It’s business.” He shrugged. “Ol’ Royce hears things, and lately he hears about a mysterious coin-purse that has an eye out for a lil’ something special.” Royce turned my head from side to side, peering at me from behind the tiny, round spectacles perched on his pointed nose.
“A debtslave.” I whispered the words, horror climbing along my back.
“You or him.” He shrugged. “Thought long on that one. If I appropriated him, I’d cut off his hands and throw him into the hinters. Let the taint have him.” He turned to Ogrim. “You think any ingrates would forget to pay me after that?”
“No, ser.” Ogrim leered. “Cain’t say that I do.”
“But you?” Royce gave me a wide smile. “You might even fetch more coin at the Downs Market than your ragman father owes me. Otherwise, that sweet mouth of yours could still make me more glimmer than half the games at the Spire do.”
Breathe. I unclenched my fist and paused for a long, drifting moment, my gears spinning. My eyes flickered from Royce to my da.
“I don’t have much choice.” I fixed the weasel with a glare.
“No.” Behind me, my father sounded like misery taken form. “No, Ysabel, don’t.”
Ogrim kicked him again, and for a moment my knuckles clenched white on the handle of the axe.
“What about my da?” Trembling, I could scarcely contain my rage. “Tell me true, Royce.”
“Your da and I will be square.” He gave me a sharp smile. “Square as can be.”
“You’ll set your mark to it.” I leveled my gaze to his. “You’ll sign a quitclaim writ.”
“I will.” He nodded to Ogrim, who lifted a small, bookish, leather satchel that had been tossed in the corner. “I jus’ so happen to have everything we need.”
Royce had come prepared. Ogrim brought the hardback over to him while my father moaned piteously on the floor. Royce took the hardback, sat out the ink and steelpoint pen, then ruffled through a sheaf of loose papers.
“It’s all simple like. Here’s my quitclaim writ.” He showed me the form. “And here’s your surrender of citizenry.”
Just a glance at the forms knocked me cross-eyed.
I had been reading since I was four, better read than my elders, but these documents contained a dizzying array of legal terms, fine print, and lines for honorary signatures. Royce handed the surrender form to me and then began filling out the quitclaim form.
“I need a solicitor.” I peered at the jumble of words, my heart pounding in my chest. Several seals of approval gleamed on the paper. I glared up at Royce. “You don’t expect me to just sign this, do you?”
“Well, sweetling.” He sighed. “Then the easiest thing is to jus’ appropriate ol’ Alman here”—he gestured toward my father—“and toss him beyond the bounds.” He shrugged. “It’s my full and legal right, Ysabel, and that’s about all yer ol’ man is good for, I’m afraid.”
“An example.” Ogrim’s voice stayed low.
“Yes. Exactly.” Royce pointed toward Ogrim but didn’t look at the large man. “An example.”
“But the moment I sign this…” My voice trailed off as I read the papers.
“Oh, yes, I own you.” Royce was nothing if not certain. “I would allow you more time to decide, but when I came back tomorrow, I’d find an empty little hovel, wouldn’t I?”
Too right he would.
“So,” he continued, intent on the quitclaim. “It’s your will. Either I leave here with you and your pride now, or I take Alman. I’m a fair man; it’s your choice.”
Man. I sneered at th
e word. The mangy weasel hardly deserved the title. Just a creepy, handsy, mangy weasel.
I couldn’t help but think that I was holding a third choice in the form of an axe. If I buried it in Royce’s face, then he didn’t have any claim, did he?
But that would never work. Even if I downed Royce, I’d still face Ogrim. And if Ogrim lived, we would all be in the Court Judicia before day’s end. Since murder was punished with banishment past the bounds, it ended with the same fate for my da.
“Let me talk with him.” My words filled with bite and regret. “Give us a moment, and then I’ll come along.”
“Ysabel!” My father’s voice was stricken, but I didn’t spare him a glance.
“You’ll come? All peaceable?” Royce burst into a cautious grin.
“Let us talk,” I repeated, my tone low. “You’re right. I have two choices, and I’ll do the proper thing.” I glared at him. “Give us a moment.”
Royce sniffed as he regarded me for a long moment, the gears turning in his head. Then, he gave me a small smile.
“Fine.” He waved to Ogrim and jerked his head toward the door. “A moment. Then we’ll be back.” He leveled his gaze at me. “No sneakiness, sweetness.”
“No sneakiness.” I nodded, again imagining the axe blade buried in his face.
Then, with a single glance over his shoulder, Royce left, taking his man with him.
“Ysabel, you can’t.” My father pushed himself upright. “Let them take me. I’m old—”
“You’re an old fool is what you are.” I helped him up. “Shut up and listen, Da.”
He grunted, obviously in pain from his rough treatment.
“You’ve got a stack of clink just waiting for you in the other room on my shelves. I want you to—”
“I won’t sell your books over this.” His words were liquid sorrow.
I shushed him with a finger over his lips.
“Da, you can’t believe I’m going to stay with these toffers. I’ll go, but I won’t stay.” I gave him a wink. “I’ll make away as soon as I can. But when I do, they’ll come back for you. You’ve got to be gone.”
“Gone.” He shook his head, as if I was telling him to grow wings and fly away. “How do you tally that?”
“Take my books. The moment we leave here, you take them to the Clinkdowns. Sell them for whatever you can get. There should be enough to buy you passage inland.”
“Teredon.” He whispered the word, his eyes hopeless. “Only enough for one.”
“One’s all we need.” I gave him a smile that showed more confidence than I felt. “I’ll meet you there.”
“Ysabel, you don’t know what these men will do.”
“No, Da.” I sighed. “I’m quite sure I do.”
My life, short and rude as it had been, was over. All due to my da’s wild dreams, I faced the rich and fabulous life of a debtslave, a fancified way of saying I was about to become an unpaid whore.
Until I made away, that was.
“Sell the books.” My voice firm, I wondered off-handedly when I had become our decision-maker. “Get to Teredon.” I kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll see you there.”
“C’mon, sweetmeats,” Ogrim grumbled as he stepped back into the small room. “I gotta get home sometime.”
Home. I glowered at him. The word seemed to mock me, to taunt and bite.
“At least you have a home to get back to,” I muttered the words, not knowing or caring if he heard.
“We all settled, Ysabel?” Royce sounded particularly cheery.
I looked at my da and gave him a small smile.
To my father’s credit, he smiled through his misery and gave me a small nod.
“All settled.” I smirked at Royce, my eyes dark with calculation. “Let me see those papers.”
2
In the end, it was simple, which was the greatest horror of it all. It should have taken far more to sign away my life, to lose all my rights under the Accords, but it didn’t.
It required three signatures.
“Finally, this.” Royce stepped over to my father, whose eyes were empty and still. “One quitclaim writ.” He set the paper before my da, who made no move to take it. “Fair is fair. It was a pleasure, Alman. I do hope to see you back at the Spire.”
The vitriol in my father’s eyes should have scalded the weasel.
Instead he turned to me. “Let’s on, then. Last hugs.” Royce gestured impatiently to me, adjusting his vest. “A man has other business today.”
When my father crushed me against him, I had to fight the tears. I could feel him trembling with anger and sorrow and impotence.
No. I steeled myself. Royce would rot before he saw me cry. I kissed my father on the forehead as I breathed my final word to him in a shadow of a whisper.
“Teredon.”
My father nodded.
I didn’t look back as Royce led me outside, Ogrim behind us both. We weren’t quite to the gate when he stopped, turning to me with one finger in the air.
“One more thing, sweetling.” He gestured to Ogrim. “You ought be dressed properly for the auction.”
Ogrim reached inside the satchel and procured a small item. I had to peer at it before I realized what it was.
“A collar?” I gaped at Royce. Was he serious?
“Yes, indeed.” He took the collar from Ogrim and undid the clasp. It was black leather with thin metal wires woven through it and a silver ring on the front. In place of a buckle, there was a wafer-thin box on the back.
It was a curious thing, equal parts hide and clockwork.
“Lest you get some clever idea.” Royce smiled.
Oh, I already had ideas.
“Come here, little sweetling. Let’s get you dressed.”
Trying not to wince at his touch, I leaned my head forward, giving him access to my neck. He placed the item on me with cool efficiency. With a frown, he tightened it until it pulled snug against my skin. Then, from his front right pocket, produced an odd, brass key and locked the collar in place.
I made a note to watch where he stowed the key. Before making my break, I’d have to slip this collar.
Then, he smiled up to me. He put one hand on my shoulder.
“You’ll wear that collar until we find you a new owner. It marks you as my possession. It also makes certain you’ll be a good girl fer ol’ Royce.”
“How’s that?” I ran my fingers along the edge of it, wondering at the small collection of gears there.
He tugged the collar around my neck until the ring rested center front. Then he held up the small brass key for my inspection. It looked more like a clavis wrench than an actual key.
“There’s only the one of these lil’ beauts in existence.” He reached for my collar and then traced his hands along it to the back. “Twice a day, I wind a small clockwork device, right here.” He pressed the thin box attached to the wire-infused leather against my skin. “If’n time passes without the collar bein’ adjusted with my key, it’ll constrict just a touch. After that, it will constrict again, every candle, on the mark.” Royce gave me a very serious look. “So if a clever girl were to run away or have dark designs for me or Ogrim here, she should know that eventually her collar would strangle the breath from her.”
My eyes went wide.
“What—!” My voice choked off. This couldn’t be! I tried to put my fingers under the collar, but he had it far too snug. “And what if something happens to you? Or to your key? I choke like a rat?”
Royce’s eyes were stern. “Made arrangements in case that happens, didn’t I? You won’t never suffer ‘by accident’ from my collar.” He paused. “But clever girls should also know— if they fiddle with the lock, say with the help of a lock-hawk, its jes’ as likely that he’ll make the thing close right up.”
“And I have to wear it?” I glanced at Ogrim with a raised eyebrow. His collar was simple leather.
“Only at first. Only until you are sold or I feel certain you won't run.
” He quirked an eyebrow at me. “You’re headed to market today, so you shouldn’t have to worry overlong.”
In the distance, the gloaming storm grumbled in the sky. For a long moment, I glared at Royce, fighting back my fiery temper.
“There, you see?” He ran his fingers beneath my chin. “It’s dark looks like that which tell a man that such a device is a good idea. You need fear nothing if you simply do as I say. My life is a dangerous one. Surely you can see I might need protection against girls who think themselves clever?”
As a girl who thought herself clever, I did see that.
“Yes.” My eyes gauged him warily. “It’s a reasonable precaution,” I growled.
My mind spun. Was there no escape? Just what had I gotten into? I had to admit, he was right about one thing: I wanted to gouge out his beady eyes, clockwork collar or no.
Sharp up, Ysabel. It was already done. If I wanted out of this, I needed a plan.
“Ogrim’ll take you from here. We have an interested buyer, and I think he might enjoy a moment to examine the wares before the auction.” Royce’s smile was greasy. “But don’t worry, luv. Whoever buys you has an acquisition option on that choker.”
“Thanks for that. I’m certain you will miss me.” I smiled sweetly at his dirty face. But my eyes must have held as much vitriol as my father’s had.
Royce chuckled.
“I do wish I had more time for you.” He brushed the back of his fingers across my face. “Your pretty mouth would have been a lot of fun, I think.”
“I’d bite.” I kept my gaze on his. “I’d bite and revel in your cries.”
“No time, I’m afraid.” His smile grew sharp. “More’s the pity.”
Royce stepped away for a moment and had a quick, whispered conversation with Ogrim.
Only a quarter-candle before, I would have seen this as the perfect opportunity to sprint away. But now, escape only meant a slow, gasping death.
I needed that key.
“Excellent.” Royce clapped his man on the back. “See to it, and I’ll meet you afterward.”
When Ogrim stepped back, he was muttering to himself. His piggish eyes narrowed to thin slits.
“Step quick, little bird.” Ogrim pushed me, none too gently. “Gots to move along, don't I?”