The Swamp Contract
"Of your own accord, or is there some other reason behind it?"
"Do you want to know about me personally?"
"I've no interest in little ladies. I'm just curious, that's all."
"Curious about what, exactly?"
"Everything — starting with the fact that a child actually plotted to spring me from that place. The way you chat with me like we're old acquaintances. All the way to that remarkable child wanting a bank instead of dolls."
"The world is full of interesting things. That's what makes it worth living in, even when it's hard."
"Now there's a wise saying."
Loomdrax threw his head back and roared with laughter. He cackled for a good long while at whatever struck him as so funny, then cut the sound off all at once.
Quit laughing and just tell me whether you're working with me or not.
I was having that very thought when Loomdrax shoved his chair back and rose to his feet. So the negotiations collapsed, then. What a shame. It would be petty of me, but should I demand he repay me for breaking him out of Bulta Prison? Or would threatening to report him work better?
"Let's go. To the bank."
I'd been in the middle of debating how to contact the city watch, and there he was — sliding one sheet of the Dragon's Vow clean out from under my palm as he spoke. His hands moved fast enough to be spectral.
"Was that an acceptance?"
"Yep. Sounds like it'll be fun."
"Then we write up a contract first. And put back what you just took."
"This one's a consultation fee. As for the other sheet — let's leave it be and keep it safe. It's spent the moment it's used, no? In exchange, I'll help you twice over."
Asking a con man for blind trust. Loomdrax looked perfectly composed, even having just spat out words that rattled the very identity of a swindler. Clearly the Dragon's Vow was precious to him — for all I knew, he was already waiting for his chance to rob me of both sheets.
I'd better hide these somewhere good.
I tucked the Dragon's Vow into my bag and spoke up.
"We still need a contract, though. If the Dragon's Vow is too precious to spend, let's use something else."
I drew out the contract I had prepared in advance. The Dragon's Vow had only ever been the opening move — groundwork laid to bring this document to the table. The Swamp Contract, one of the newer breeds of magical contract, afflicts anyone who unilaterally breaks its terms with days of physical debuffs.
"This way, neither of us is taking on too much risk, right?"
The Swamp Contract was itself one of the more fearsome instruments of binding, but having just witnessed the Dragon's Vow, he was more than likely to shrug it off. And my prediction landed beautifully.
"Fine. This much, I can concede."
I filled in every blank on the contract with meticulous care and handed it across to Loomdrax. Jenice came over with a needle in hand. Unlike an ordinary agreement, a magical contract required the blood of both parties, so I drove the needle deep into my hand. Jenice scrunched up her face on my behalf.
"Your turn. Prick it."
I let a single drop of blood fall onto the parchment and passed the needle over. Loomdrax showed no hesitation about using it either — and the moment his bead of blood landed where mine had touched, the Swamp Contract pulsed with a faint glow.
"Right this way, grandfather. This is the Phoenix Bank you were looking for."
Because Loomdrax had set out disguised as an old man, a ridiculous piece of theater had unfolded along the way. Right now I was giving the performance of a lifetime as a sweet, adorable little girl guiding a lost grandfather to his destination. Worried someone might recognize me, I had changed into a plain dress and pulled a bonnet down deep to hide my face.
I hadn't wanted to come to the bank at all, but Loomdrax insisted he couldn't receive inspiration without seeing the site where he'd be working, so I had no choice but to tag along. I told you to just go with Jenice. He'd hauled me along anyway. The entire ride, I had been subjected to his treatise on fraud — he compared swindling to a form of fine art. I thought it was dogshit dressed up as philosophy, but I hadn't let it show.
We wound round and round by carriage until we reached Phoenix Bank, then parked some distance away and walked the rest.
"Here we are — Phoenix Bank, grandfather."
I attended to Loomdrax, playing his country-grandfather act to the hilt, with the most devoted service imaginable. His nostrils flared wide.
"Getting waited on hand and foot by the Lady of Ehrenberg herself — this isn't half bad."
Loomdrax murmured the words right at my ear. I edged away from him and smiled awkwardly.
"Grandfather, shall I see you inside?"
"What a sweet young miss, and a kind heart to match. Hoh hoh."
The voice, rasping like something dragged across the back of his throat, was indistinguishable from a genuine old man's. Loomdrax could reshape even his own voice with total freedom.
"Though with a line that long, d'you suppose we'll even get in, lass?"
Just as Loomdrax said, the plaza before Phoenix Bank was a sea of humanity. The queue into the bank stretched far out of sight; if we joined it, getting inside within business hours looked hopeless.
"Let me in already! My money is in there!"
"Please wait. It's packed inside. They're admitting people one at a time, in the order they arrived."
"Just answer me one thing — is the bank going under?"
Irritation and exhaustion were written across every face in that line. The crowd roared at the employees barring the entrance; the staff held back the people shoving their way forward, and the people shoved harder still.
What a circus. I was praying fervently that no one would get hurt in all this chaos when Loomdrax asked:
"What's wrong with all those people?"
"They heard the bank was going bankrupt and came running."
"Hmmm." Loomdrax hummed through his nose, sweeping his gaze over the crowd.
"You made this mess yourself, didn't you?"
Loomdrax asked as though confirming what he already knew. On the way here, we had already gone over once how I'd shaken Phoenix Bank to its core. I nodded. Satisfied with my answer, Loomdrax rapped his cane against the ground — the signal to move.
It was my turn to give another performance.
"You said you came a long way for business at Phoenix Bank, grandfather? You can't afford to waste time, then. Let me go explain our situation and ask them for a favor."
I parked Loomdrax where he stood and approached the guard knight barring the bank entrance.
"Excuse me, sir."
"Kid, this is no place to play."
The guard looked worn down to the bone from being hounded by the crowd. The shirt that must have been crisp and neat when he clocked in that morning hung rumpled off his frame, and the hair he'd surely slicked back with pomade now sprouted in every direction. I could well imagine how badly he'd suffered all day. Feeling a pang of sympathy for the man, I tried again.
"Sir, my grandfather here says he has business at the bank."
"Haah. You see the line? Get in at the very back of it."
Any guard in the world would have said the same. Which is exactly why I had come prepared.
"Sir, look here."
I dug into my pocket and held out a gold coin.
"Kid...?"
"You see that old gentleman standing back there? He's a relative of mine — my grandmother's grandfather's brother, actually. He's a very wealthy man. He has business at Phoenix Bank, but he says he must hurry back to his estate."
The guard nodded, his eyes glued to the coin.
"So your grandmother's grandfather's brother... whatever. This gentleman has some terribly urgent business. I get it."
The guard swept the coin into his pocket.
"But there's a sight more people waiting than you can count, see. I'll slip you in about halfway."
I'd figured one or two coins wouldn't cut it. At least he didn't blow up at me for taking him lightly. Nothing in this world goes as smoothly as a problem that money can solve.
I held out two more coins.
"I told you — it's urgent."
The guard snatched up the pair, then glanced about him. Having confirmed that no one was watching him in particular, he muttered:
"Bring him over, quick."
Oh — faster than I'd expected. I pocketed the two gold coins I'd been clutching, held ready to hand over the instant he refused, and bowed.
"Thank you, sir."
There wasn't a single corner of this kingdom that hadn't rotted through. It left a bitter taste — and yet, thanks to that rot, my revenge could proceed all the more smoothly. I couldn't decide whether to call that good fortune or something to mourn.
I spun around and beckoned to Loomdrax.
"Quite the skilled little operator, aren't you, missy."
Loomdrax whispered his praise, then tipped his head toward the guard who had opened the door for us. The moment we stepped through, the crowd behind us erupted.
"We were here first!"
My back prickled under the glares, but I ignored them. Soothing an angry mob was the guard's job, after all. He would probably suffer enough to wish he could throw my gold coins right back at me.
Inside, Phoenix Bank was a world apart from the chaos without.
"Well now. Comfortable in here, aren't we?"
"It really is. So spacious."
Loomdrax and I drifted toward a corner of the hall. Unlike the din outside, the interior held barely anyone at all — roomy enough to breathe. Loomdrax took up a post at one side of the bank and went silent; since entering, he hadn't said a word, as though concentrating on receiving some inspiration or another.
I whiled away the time watching the bank instead. Tellers idling at their counters, patrons waiting their turns. Nothing out of the ordinary, and I soon grew bored. I was just debating how much longer I had to stand there — whether to head home ahead of him—
"I said leave! Get out!"
A shout cracked out from the counter tucked into the farthest corner of the bank.
Fiona cannot see. She has lived more than sixty years without her sight, so going about her daily life posed no great difficulty — by Fiona's own standards, at least.
Compared with other nations, the kingdom was an easy place for people with physical impairments like Fiona to live. At the very least, its citizens possessed a deep, basic understanding of disability.
"Vision trouble? Right this way — the counter is just ahead."
A bank employee with a kind voice came to Fiona's aid. Fiona followed her, wearing her gentle smile, and the two exchanged words as they walked to the counter.
"You can take care of everything here. I'll be off now."
The guide handed Fiona over to the teller and drifted away. Fiona explained to the teller the reason she had come to the bank.
"That's right. This year His Majesty the King issued a special grant to mark his own birthday. You've come to apply for that disability allowance, haven't you?"
Fiona nodded.
The kingdom's institutions for the disabled were exemplary. Most of their framework had been built by Violetta, and Karman, every so often, would devise a measure of royal grace like this one and bestow it upon the people. Whatever form it took, Fiona was simply glad. The thought of grocery shopping generously for the first time in ages had her nearly humming to herself.
"You look cheerful today, grandmother."
Right up until she reached the counter, Fiona was happy. She was still happy while she listened to the explanations. And then.
"Look here, grandmother. It's the regulations. You have to sign the documents."
The moment the teller finished his explanation and held out the paperwork she was meant to complete, the atmosphere changed. He began to rail at Fiona — and Fiona, who had lived her whole life harming not a soul, inconvenienced only by her blindness, cowered before the young man's blazing voice.
"I... I can't see well. And I never learned my letters..."
"That's your problem! The form is right here and the pen is in your hand."
The teller spread the paper out in front of Fiona, then forced the pen into her hand.
"Write your name."
So saying, the teller plopped back into his seat without a shred of care. Fiona, utterly at a loss, chewed anxiously at her lip.
"Couldn't someone write my name for me?"
Fiona asked the teller, timid as could be.
"Look here, old woman. Are you trying to turn someone into a criminal? You have to write it yourself. What, are your ears broken too?"