Conrad didn’t return, which Teddy was glad for.
And the missus chipped apart the seal, which, Teddy was even more glad for, gawking in fact.
She’s the boss’s missus. Mind your manners. Mind your eyes, get it off that chest.
Just as he’d expected, the missus was a good half a head taller than him. Also as expected, despite a face too angular to be beautiful and a hawk nose too large, her body was stunning. Something he’d immediately realized after seeing her bare knees earlier.
Forcing his eyes upwards, he bowed and greeted her as she walked down the stairs. To that, her eyes narrowed.
“I don’t recall Monteguem receiving that same courtesy,” she said. “This one is humbled, perhaps that courtesy is yet another benefit of womanhood?”
Teddy scratched his cheek, searching for a reply that wouldn’t offend her. How was he supposed to know Monteguem would tell her so much?
“Um…My name is Theodore formerly of the Pargols,” he eloquently explained despite suddenly becoming conscious of his grungy, stinking appearance.
She strode down the ramp and introduced her own self.
“I’m am Bell of the Bethhousen Clan, Monteguem’s…betrothed, as it is,” she said with a succinct bow. “Your contract is complete, Teddy, might we go over it and make adjustments?”
Crap…he even told her about my nickname.
She sat down on the clay bench in the living room, and Teddy, self-conscious of his stench, plopped himself on the floor in front of her.
Wait…is she going to think I’m trying to get a better view? I’m such an idiot! How was I supposed to know chipping at the bottom of the door would end up being rude? Surely bums have been executed for less.
From her cheap tunic, she pulled out a rolled document. Mindful of his eyes, he listened to her read the terms and conditions.
‘One: You will act as a guide as per the standard rules of Porter services, with the exception of the using a Passport Stone to cross borders.’
‘Two: These services also extend to all the persons in the one known as Monteguem’s party.
‘Three: Upon completion of services, at the employer’s behest, Theodore formerly of the Pargols will be delivered to the ‘Dead-Hut.’
Teddy raised his hand.
“Yes?” Bell asked.
“I’ve…I’ve changed my mind,” Teddy said.
“Oh? You no longer seek employ?”
“No, the, uh, last condition. Can you just pay me instead?”
She narrowed her eyes, a habit of hers Teddy was quick to pick up on. He probably wasn’t going to like the next part.
“Despite not having signed a formal contract, you had an accord with the one known as Monteguem, correct?”
Teddy nodded.
“And you completed services as per that initial accord, correct?”
His heart sunk and Teddy nodded.
“Now, you wish to change the bargain after the terms had already been agreed upon.”
That, that was the final blow. A confrontation that was much more deadly than his earlier one with Conrad. All Teddy could do was gape. She was right and he knew it on the surface. He was being an honorless scoundrel attempting to change the bargain; what was worse, it was the same shamelessness he just got done scolding Conrad for.
When he’d first made the deal, he wasn’t even sure he was serious about it, more of a smidgen of dry wit he used to shield himself from the cruelty of the settlement. He’d lost nearly all hope back then, back when he’d first met Monteguem. The only hope Teddy clung to was the useless passport stone he kept in his pocket, futilely hoping he’d wake up one day to it working and he could escape this mire pit.
Back then, he wouldn’t have minded an assassin claiming his life. It would have been a sweet release for him. Despite being too cowardly to claim his own life, he prayed that asking someone else would be an easy loophole.
But now, he'd just found a ray of hope in Monteguem, even a home Teddy had to return to each day. Maybe that was the cruelest of all? Giving a destitute bum another chance, a chance he now recognized was legitimate unlike when he'd first taken the deal.
Bell sat there, watching Teddy’s existential crisis with discernment. She didn’t say a word, seemingly both relishing the power she held over him and anticipating the conclusion he came to.
Teddy’s cheeks burned. His vision blurred and every ounce of self-pity he could muster fell from his eyes. He’d had a shot, a real shot. He was right to be wary of Monteguem, but his employer was the real deal. He knew that now.
Teddy hadn’t known him long, but he’d met enough people during his work as a guide to be an expert judge of character. In fact, he’d met so many people, that Teddy had an entire sorting system to place his clients.
‘This guy seems jovial, but he stiffed the serving girl, ought to keep an edge over this shyster lest I get the same treatment.’
‘This guy is all brawns. Compliment his prowess, he’s full of ego, he’ll spill the beans. Oh? You mistook and ingot for a peanut? How unfortunate.’
‘Eh? You gave that old man a golden sickle bit when you thought I wasn’t looking? You, I can trust.’
And that was what Monteguem was, he offered Teddy a golden sickle bit when he wasn’t paying attention, and Teddy shit all over it, consumed with self-pity and nihilism. He didn’t care about himself back then. There was no point to caring, but now, having been offered a second chance, a second chance by a man who didn’t take any offense to all the sleights the mayor threw at him, a man who offered Teddy a home and a purpose; Teddy shit all over it with a single nihilistic quip.
He sniffled and hung his head, and the missus looked on.
How long had it been since he’d cried? Might be the last time was when he was a boy. He’d been sold to old man Pargol by the orphanage and learned to keep his head down, to cry when no one was looking, but otherwise, stick to the middle of the pack, go with the circumstances, follow everyone else’s lead. That made life easier.
That attitude earned him a simple, mostly cushy life—until it didn’t, and he got stranded.
He was tossed aside, likely just a scapegoat for someone else’s blunder, and left to rot in a desert. That was all he was worth.
The people whose affections he lowered himself to receive all his life—old man Pargol, the other porters, the elitist assholes in the Clan—they tossed him aside like garbage. Then a tailored gentleman offered him a golden sickle bit and Teddy shit all over it.
“Can you…can you forget the last part?” Teddy asked again. “You don’t need to pay me, just don’t kill me.”
Her shrill voice read the document again, except this time there was a change.
‘One: You will act as a guide as per the standard rules of Porter services, with the exception of the use of a Passport stone to cross borders.’
‘Two: These services also extend to all the persons in the one known as Monteguem’s party.
‘Three: Every twenty days under employ, you will be paid a lump sum of--.’
She left that last line hanging in the air and Teddy looked up, unable to comprehend the change. Then it all made sense. On the bench next to her was the first slip of paper, but currently, she held a second slip of paper. There were two contracts. Monteguem anticipated this, just like he’d anticipated Conrad’s counteroffer back when he negotiated rent for the hut.
“Now, onto the details," she said bluntly, completely ignoring Teddy’s distress. “As I understand it, you have a black-slip to your name.”
She said it as though she was simply negotiating, laying the facts on the table to earn herself leverage. Teddy winced and wiped his tears.
“Uh…yes,” Teddy replied.
“Then, while you are under the party’s employ, you will be safe from the repercussions of the black slip, on the honor of the Bethhousen Clan.”
Goodness, she had him by the balls and had no issue making that known. Despite that, Teddy couldn’t help but smile.
“Furthermore, you will be bound to secrecy. Any information you learn while under the party’s employ does not belong to you, but the party itself, under threat of rescinding employment and losing our protection from the black slip, agreed?”
Teddy nodded.
“Lastly, due to the costly nature of the services we are providing you, your salary will be one-tenth the going rate for a porter. This is also taking into account your lack of a passport, agreed?”
Teddy nodded. He was happy to be getting anything at all.
She stood, motioning for Teddy to follow her upstairs. Keeping his eyes down, Teddy made his way up the ramp behind her to the bedroom.
Inside, it was barren and nearly how he remembered it. The clay beds were pushed up against the wall and no windows cut a view outside. However, two odd occurrences caught his attention. One, Monteguem’s suit was draped over the bed, explainable if he accepted that his employer owned a passport stone but not a suitcase. And two, the part that really caught his attention, was the chunks cut out of the bedroom walls, at least several days worth of meals. Had Monteguem truly spent the last two days in this room? Why would he do that if he owned a passport stone and could teleport out of here anytime he wished?
Bell eyed him as he mused, but Teddy didn’t dare voice his concerns. He was a dingy, stinking beggar who was being offered a contract far more lucrative than he deserved. He had no right to question his employer’s business.
Turning her back to him, Bell retrieved an artificial quill and a thimble of ink from Monteguem’s suit and finished the second contract. When she offered the quill to him, Teddy signed it without a second thought.
She signed it, too. However, the name she used wasn’t ‘Bell’. She signed it ‘Monte’. Teddy didn’t question that either.
“Good,” she said, setting the contract on the bed to dry. “I haven’t much time, and we have much to do.”
“What do you need me for?” Teddy asked.
“Today, we visit the bar,” she explained.
“Which one?”
“Oh? How many are here?”
Teddy held up two fingers.
“Then, let’s start with the nearest one.”
And like that, Teddy began his new job, officially this time.
