“It’s inert. The spell is gone, and there is no magic in it.”
“Otrade is dead,” Gort said.
That made sense. There was no life bound to this paper because that life had already ended.
I raised the contract to the light. The contours of the spell were still there, woven into the paper. We could still use this. A qualified mage would be able to tell what the spell did even if it wasn’t active. We had Tillmar’s blank contract, too . . .
“Another mercenary,” Will reported.
A second scroll made its way to me. Exact same contract. Also dead.
Another. Another.
Kaiden scrambled to his feet, leaped over the papers, and stuck a scroll under my nose.
Let it be known to all who read or hear these words that on this day, a covenant of duty is forged between the undersigned:
Lord Ulmar Hreban, Baron of the Realm, Lord of Lower Berem, Vaterna . . . (hereinafter referred to as The Liege)
and
Serem Vor, a knight of sound mind and unwavering resolve (hereinafter referred to as The Contractor).
Article I: The Task
The Liege, acting under the authority of his station, does hereby commission the Contractor to deliver the death of Lord Colart Jenicor, the Sun Margrave, now deemed a threat to the prosperity and interests of the Liege and the stability of the realm.
The Contractor shall employ whatever means deemed fit, provided the act is carried out with due discretion . . .
I scanned the last line. Here it was, the Butcher’s signature. I yanked the scroll up. The contours of the spell were distinct and clear.
It was here, right here, in my hands. The key to eliminating Ulmar Hreban. There would be no reign of terror.
Something wet my cheeks.
Kaiden’s eyes went wide. “Maggie, don’t cry. Don’t cry!”
I passed the scroll over to Gort before my tears fell on it. I’d held it together all this time and now the tension was leaking out. There was no stopping it.
“Give me a scroll case!” Gort ordered.
A cocoon of red light popped into existence right by the basement stairs.
Gort yanked me off the chair and shoved me behind him.
The light exploded into nothing, leaving Isadau. She stared at us. Her hair stood out from her head, smoking slightly. Strange glowing dust peppered her face.
We stared at each other.
“Did you win?” I asked.
She raised her chin. “No. But he didn’t win either.” She wiped the shiny dirt off her cheek. “I’m going to my room to take a nap.”
Mage naps and normal-people naps were two different things.
“For how long?” I asked.
“Two weeks. Maybe more. Don’t bother me. Don’t try to feed me, and don’t call a physician. I’m not dead.”
