The Bargain (Aliyah 11)

[Mikayla]

Author's Note: My thanks to gonz0 (Horatio), thinkpig (Raheem), Aitana (Nisha), and kiyoti (Ali'Hussein), who were all involved in the in-character part of the story below. Extra thanks to gonz0 who provided the logs for the evening. Thanks.

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The Bargain

“It’s a contract.” Raheem explained as Aliyah read the flowing script. Raheem was the latest addition to the crew. He was Calishite, from Calimport, and almost as pretty as Nisha. His hair was black and his skin dark caramel, but his ears betrayed the elf-blood in his veins. He was from money, that much was clear in the way he expected others to help him with life’s more mundane tasks, like making fires or bathing. Aliyah offered no help. Poor little rich boy could learn. His story was dark though; and his pain both real and near. Aliyah felt a bit of sympathy towards him; he too had been betrayed by a parent. Alas, he did not have Aliyah’s physical gifts to fall back on, so he took the path of charm, wit and words – and words were his weapons. He was good with them too, when he wanted to be. He was every bit the charming diplomat that Nisha could be, and even better at haggling with merchants; a true Calishite in that regard.

The contract called for Aliyah to defend Raheem from injury in taverns and inns. In return, she would get a payment up front and would be paid extra for every confrontation that turned physical. Raheem’s penmanship was excellent, but his knowledge of contracting was severely limited. Aliyah had seen many written contracts while travelling with traders at sea, and even the Rundeen pirates had written agreements. While the basic idea of Raheem’s contract was spelled out, at least one very important clause was missing. Aliyah decided not to enlighten him. Poor little rich boy could learn.

“Sure.” She said. “Alright.” She retrieved the ink and a quill she used to write in her log-book from her leather satchel.

“Would you sign it in blood, please?” Raheem asked, pulling out a small knife. He pricked the end of his finger and used the blood to sign.

Normally Aliyah would never sign a contract in blood, but this one was poorly drafted and what did she really have to lose? Not only was the contract missing an all important clause, she could not lose the one thing that blood contracts were notorious for taking.

“Sure.” She said simply. She drew her killing-knife and cut a small slash across the palm of her left hand. With a practiced flip of her wrist, she planted the killing-knife into the table. Using her quill, she signed “Aliyah” on the contract in her blood.

Raheem suckled the finger he had pricked and handed her a bag of gold; the first payment. She weighed the bag in her hand; gold for blood. Hers, theirs, it didn’t really matter. Aliyah had made worse bargains, and she had learned the same lesson Raheem would learn one day – be careful who you bargain with, and what you bargain for.

Aliyah pulled her killing-knife out of the table, and with a smile, licked her own blood from the blade.

**********************************************

“You are dead.” Ibrahim said to Layla. But Layla was not dead; she was 13 years old and newly returned to Calimport after almost a year at sea spent on a trade-ship travelling up and down the Sword Coast. Her once light skin was dark as a coconut, and her hands were as tough and coarse as any other sailor’s. The crew had found the little stowaway early on, trying to steal apples. Fortunately they took a liking to Layla and soon she was doing odd-jobs wherever she could aboard the ship. The mates taught her about the wind and sailing, while the hands taught her how to tie knots, scrub decks, and keep watch. When the captain learned she knew how to read maps and had some knowledge of the stars, he taught her to navigate. A month into the journey and she was taking regular watches, serving at the Captain’s assistant, and generally working alongside the other sailors. When they returned to Calimport the following year, they set her ashore.

A head taller than when she left, lean and tough, with a sailor’s curses and sea-shanty’s rolling out of her mouth in a never-ending stream of trade-tongue vulgarity, Layla headed straight for her family’s house. She was going to free her father and her siblings from that evil wizard of a grand-father, Dawoud. And if Dawoud tried his little spells on her, she would just gut him like a fish with her knife. A year at sea had given Layla confidence beyond her years, but what she found when she came home was beyond her imagination.

“You are dead.” Ibrahim repeated. His eyes were alive, no longer flat and lifeless as they had been when Dawoud ensorcelled him. But there was anger in those eyes, not welcome, as they looked down upon Layla.

“But I’m not dead!” Layla protested. “I’m right here. I’m standing right in front of you. I just came back from sea.” She pointed towards the wharf.

“No.” Ibrahim replied with a determined finality. “Our daughter, our beautiful daughter Layla, died of a brain fever last year. It drove her mad, made her do terrible things. Terribly shameful things. But then the gods were merciful, and the fever took her. She has been dead nearly a year now. You are not her. I don’t know who you are, but you are not our daughter.” It was all to clear to Layla that Ibrahim knew exactly who she was, and that this was how the family had dealt with Layla running away. Rather than admit to having a degenerate daughter who fled an arranged marriage, they preferred to tell the world that she had been mad with sickness and then died. The marriage of Layla’s oldest sister to the Druzir would still go forward. In fact, Layla thought, it probably already happened.

Behind Ibrahim, Layla could see her mother crying. Layla’s own eyes welled up with tears. “Daddy … please.” She begged, a little girl once more, but Ibrahim would not relent. She looked to her mother, but her mother only turned away, still sobbing.

“Go.” Ibrahim said. “You chose this life. This is what you wanted. Now live with what you’ve chosen.” Layla began to cry hysterically, all her confidence washed away in a devastating tide of parental rejection. Ibrahim knelt down to her and whispered. “This is the way it has to be child. We pretend you are dead, and Dawoud will not kill you. This is the bargain.” Then he rose and shut the door.

**********************************************

“So, magic eh?” Horatio asked Raheem. Horatio was sitting by the fire-place in the common room of the Blade & Stars. Raheem sat on the far side of a nearby table with Ali’Hussein. Nisha was at the bar getting wine and Aliyah was straddling a chair in between the crew’s table and Horatio. Raheem was smoking devil-weed, and had used his spells to shape the smoke into an arrow passing through rings. What Raheem did not know is that only an hour earlier Aliyah had told Horatio how she really felt about magic; she was not fond of it to say the least. “How do you feel about it? Really?”

Aliyah just pressed her lips together in a frown. Horatio and Raheem exchanged looks. The blond farmer-turned-archer was acting a little out of sorts, drinking something blue that looked decidedly unhealthy. Raheem on the other hand had abandoned his diplomatic skills in favor of smug self-assurance.
“Can you make it rain?” Horatio asked.

Raheem nodded. A moment passed, then Raheem spoke.

“I can even make your mother’s pussy tight.” He smiled, broad enough to show perfect white teeth.

F*ck! Really Raheem? Aliyah thought as she watched Horatio stand slowly. The archer’s face was dark, his gaze intent on the insolent Calishite.

As Horatio stood, Aliyah also stood. She put her left foot on the leg of the chair so she could kick it at Horatio if he charged. Her right hand slipped behind her back and gripped the hilt of her killing-knife, while she held the left hand up to Horatio to warn him off.

“Easy.” She said. “Lets not get bloody.”

“I’ll not make any blood, and if there is any, I guarantee it gets cleaned up.” Horatio replied, his voice heavy with menace.

“I can’t let you.” Aliyah shook her head slightly. Damn that Raheem, that little fuck is going to get people killed for no good reason. “He’s under my protection.”

“You protect necros?” Horatio asked incredulously.

“I protect those who pay.” Aliyah said flatly. “Sell-sword.” She shrugged. Behind Aliyah, Raheem denied being a necromancer while Ali’Hussein tried to puzzle out how this argument came about. Aliyah began to wonder if this was any indication of things to come; if so, the coin she bargained for was going to be hard-earned. But sometimes, that was the way bargain’s went.

***************************************

“And who are you, little lass?” Asked the grizzled, raggedy man standing in the shadowy doorway.

Layla had left her family’s house in Taorahl and returned to the docks. The ship she had come in on was still there, but she knew they would not take her back. They liked her well enough, but she was just a 13-year old girl and not a real sailor yet. She walked north, up the wharf, past the docks and quays, until she passed into the Enqir drudach. She saw the narrow alleys across from the harbor and remembered her run from the amlakkar a year before. She wondered if she could find the passage where the cloaked woman had hidden her. She had walked down an alley and began looking; an hour later she found a non-descript building she thought might be the right one. Only, there was no cloaked woman waiting for her this time, just a plain door. Layla tried the door and found it barred, so she climbed up to the second floor and entered through a balcony arch.

She smelled them before she saw them; unwashed men. After a year at sea, she knew the scent all too well. A dirty man in filthy, patched rags with a scraggly beard stepped out in front of her.

“I said, who are you little one?” The raggedy man asked again.

“Layla yr Ibrahim yn Dawoud el Taorahl.” She replied as defiantly as she could, hoping her family’s reputation would scare the man off. “I’m here to see the Dancer Before Dawn.”

“Don’t know no dancer.” The raggedy man grinned, showing old, broken teeth as brown as a chestnut. “I know that other name though.” He said through his crooked smile. “Rich girl, from a famous father. I heard that girl died last year. You a ghost little girl?” He asked, mocking her.

Layla drew her knife. “No, but you will be old-man if you don’t get out of my way!”

Still grinning, the raggedy man just nodded. Someone stepped up behind Layla and slipped a cord around her neck. Instantly she was gasping for air, clawing at the rope with her free hand. She flailed about with her knife trying to stab her attacker, but a strong, calloused hand gripped her wrist. She kicked and squirmed but she couldn’t breathe. Her vision dimmed and her kicks slowed until everything went dark and she passed into unconsciousness.

**************************************

“My mother has been dead for 14 years.” Horatio growled at Raheem in Alzhedo.

“Then clearly Raheem doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Aliyah still gripped her killing-knife, but had not yet drawn it. Horatio was not wearing armor, but that did not mean this would be an easy fight.

“Obviously.” Horatio replied. “I’ll lay you a wager then Raheem. You make it rain, and I’ll pretend you never said anything. If you can’t, then I show you to be all wet.” Aliyah shifted her stance, preparing to kick the chair in Horatio’s path and draw her knife. “Don’t worry Aliyah,” Horatio added, I’m not going to kill him. I’m not even going to hurt him.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Aliyah answered, but she did not take her foot off the chair nor did she take her hand off her killing-knife. There was a long pause as Horatio stared Raheem, and Aliyah stared at Horatio.

Then Raheem began speaking Alzhedo, admitting he could not make it rain.

Suddenly, Ali’Hussein’s amusement turned to concern. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’ve a bit invested in the boy. I’d like that he gets to repay that which is owed.”

Horatio nodded to Ali’Hussein and then spoke words Aliyah could not understand. A small cloud-burst erupted over Raheem’s head, showering him with rain. Ali’Hussein laughed but Nisha furrowed her brows. Aliyah took her eyes off of Horatio long enough to make sure the spell was not harming Raheem, and then returned her watchful eyes to Horatio’s hands.

“See,” Horatio said. “You are all wet.”

Raheem began to clap.

“Funny as always.” Ali’Hussein said to Horatio with a smile.

The tension seemed to evaporate and Aliyah finally released her grip on her knife and straddled her chair once more. Raheem shook the water out of his hair and then used a spell to dry himself off. Nisha was pouring herself a glass of wine.

“So,” Raheem said, looking at Horatio, “how long has your mother been dead?”

You stupid little f*ck. Aliyah’s hand slipped back to her killing-knife. Do I defend him?

Of course you do. You were paid. That is what you do. That’s what you’ve chosen to do.

This isn’t going to end until one of us is dead. Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but one day that little c*nt’s mouth is going to get me killed . . . unless . . .

. . . everyone dies.

Aliyah glanced over her shoulder at Raheem. Everyone. She turned her gaze back to Horatio, watching his hands. Every bargain has its price. Sometimes you just don’t know what it is until it is time to pay.

**********************************************

Layla awoke in darkness. Her head was pounding with pain, and her throat burned. She couldn’t see, though she was sure her eyes were open. Panic gripped at her heart and she started up but a firm hand on her shoulder kept her from rising.

“Easy.” Said a woman’s voice from the darkness. “Relax, here take some water, slowly.”

She felt the hand slip behind her head, then felt a cup at her lips. The water was cool and refreshing. She drank until the cup was empty.

“Where am I?” Layla asked.

“Where do you think are?”

“I don’t know.” Layla paused. “Dead?”

The woman in the darkness laughed. “No child, you are not dead. Not yet.”

The laugh was familiar. Layla knew it. It was the cloaked woman who had hidden her. The Dancer Before Dawn.

“I was looking for you.” Layla stammered.

“You found me.” The woman said, obviously amused.

“There were men, they …”

“Shh..” the woman said. “Rest your throat. Those men almost strangled you. If we had not come along when we did, they would have raped you.”

“Raped me?” Layla asked. “Was I ..”

“No child.” The woman reassured her. “You were lucky. We found you before they could … do what they were going to do.”

“Thank you, I ..”

“Think nothing of it child. I was hoping you would return.”

“Why?”

“Because we had a deal, didn’t we? I help you stow-away on a ship out of the city, and when you return, you come to listen to what I have to say.”

“Yeah. Alright.” Layla said, laying back. She realized now she was on a cot of sorts, though she could not see it. The darkness was impenetrable. “Could you light a lamp? Or a candle?”

“No child.” The woman said. “Bargains such as we are going to discuss can only be made in the darkness.”

“What bargain?”

“The same one we began a year ago child. I help you escape, you return, and when you return, you come to me. Both of us did what we promised. Now we have a basis for trust, yes? For believing in each other. Of course, you had a condition. You wish to kill your grand-father and Shyk Hassan. But your grand-father is a powerful wizard, a member of the Guild Arcane now. Shyk Hassan is no wizard, but he is a formidable warrior with his own company of soldiers. Neither man will be easy to kill. If you tried now, with that little rope-cutter you are clutching in your hand, you’d never get within a hundred-paces of either man. But I can help you.”

Only when the woman said something about it did Layla realize she still had her knife in her hand. Although she could see nothing, having the knife gave her some comfort.

“How?” Layla asked.

“We can to teach you to dance.” The woman said simply.

“How will dancing help me kill them?”

“We will teach you to dance the only dance that truly matters to one like you, child. The dance of life and death. The dance of blades. And when you have learned all that we can teach you, you will be able to kill your grand-father, and Shyk Hassan, and anyone else you wish to slay. You will be an assassin, an instrument of death bringing the night’s justice to those can be reached no other way.” The woman paused for a moment to let the words sink in. “But, we cannot offer this boon freely. A bargain must be struck. We must have an exchange.”

“What do you want from me?” Layla asked. “I don’t have anything to give you.”

“Of course you do, child.” The woman in darkness replied. “You can give me your soul.”

[Aitana]

I really enjoyed this one! Keep them coming Mikayla! I love reading them just as much as I love rping with you.

Dani

[vergin_sacrifice]

I look forward to these avidly. You have such interesting times, and ideas.

Thank you for sharing.

Hehe, I have to ask though, 'you are all wet' did that really happen?

[Mikayla]

Yes, the conversation between Horatio, Raheem and Aliyah actually happened as its written - gonz0 sent me the log so I could get the dialogue right. Kudos to gonz0 for putting Raheem in his place without resorting to violence.

Edit: Just FYI Horatio used a create water thing to douse Raheem.