COP S1.4 The Bintinn Is Real
His shoulders dropped a little, and some color returned to his face. He gulped down half a pint in one go...
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Previously on…
Lyn negotiated a truce between the fisherman and the magic user Steffan with the help of plentiful ale and shrewd people skills. The crowd watching still wanted drama, and she was forced to apply a bintinn, magical consequences for breaking the agreement.
I took a few steps back toward the table. “Johanesi, you can’t attempt any retribution, directly or indirectly, against Steffan. Those are the terms you agreed to. If you violate them, your actions will come back to you in equal measure.” I raised my voice for the next part, just in case any of his mates were getting ideas. “So if you don’t hurt Steffan, and no one hurts Steffan on your behalf, you’ll be perfectly fine.”
His shoulders dropped a little, and some color returned to his face. He gulped down half a pint in one go, then wiped his mouth. “And him?”
“Steffan, your bintinn is easy too. You never return to Kenuport, and never play Bragker with anyone in this room again. If you do, you’ll fall ill, so ill you’ll be unable to function. And if you don’t leave in time, you’ll die.”
A woosh, kind of like a strong wind coming down over the mountain, blew through the room. It wasn’t real, of course, but the locals reacted that way.
“I’ll add, that you’d need to be here of your own volition. If you are brought here against your will, then you will remain well. However, I suggest you still don’t play Bragker.”
Steffan stood. “That’s ridiculous. No bintinn is ever that complicated. You didn’t even do any magic after the agreement.”
The woman really didn’t know when to cut her losses. Of course, she wasn’t entirely wrong, either. Most of the power of the bintinn was in the person believed it to be true. I worried I might have to make an example, something I hadn’t had to do in years thanks to my stellar reputation. Of course, no one here knew who I was. “Just because you didn’t see it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. If you don’t think I’m telling the truth, just stay here after eight tomorrow morning and see how you feel.” I flipped the gulls toward the barman and headed back to my room.
And waited.
I sat in the sturdy wooden desk chair I’d moved next to the window and watched the port settle in for the night. It was late enough, though, that only a few stragglers wandered the streets following their own sense of time. They flittered and mixed with shadow as the firelight torches dotting the road danced in the ocean breeze. That was one way to know Kenuport was nowhere near the central kingdom. Most areas had mandated the switch from fire-based light to kyboillo, small cubes enchanted with light emitting properties, after the Fire of Perlion. I had one resting on the small desk across the room, just bright enough I could see every corner of the wood-paneled room, but not bright enough I could be seen in the window.
Time dragged on long enough I started thinking I might have misread Steffan. And my mind kept flashing back to the chamber, which really wasn’t good. I still had the sense it was watching, waiting to see what I might think about it. That was probably crazy, but you could never be too sure with legendary ancient magic. I had just decided to go back down and look for a book again when the rap came at my door.
“Finally.” I swung the door open. “Come in.”
She had changed out of the comical city garb. Her linen tunic had a tinge of green peeking out from under a tan worsted wool sweater. Though her curves revealed her gender, her straw-colored hair was cropped short and brushed to the side. And she wore woolen pants. I wondered if her change of clothes was what took her so long to come find me. Unless they were just practical—and a contrarian—like me, most women wore dresses except those from Hareavale or Cindirim. Of course, I didn’t keep up with all the cultural customs of the kingdom, but those two I knew well.
“Come in,” I said again with a wave of my hand.
She took a few hesitant steps in. “Do you know who I am?”
“No, Steffan I do not. But we’re about to fix that, aren’t we?”
Her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed.
Sometimes I can be a bit much for people. Arrogance isn’t a look I liked to wear but often I’ve found it wears me.
I smiled and gestured to the chair by the window. “Let’s just talk.”
She glanced out the window, dragged the chair back to the desk and tapped the kyboillo until it brightened the room. She sat down backwards, resting her arms on the top. “What do you want to talk about?”
“How about why you are really here?”
“Why are you here?”
I sighed and plopped on the edge of the bed, not letting myself get comfortable. “I’m not the one who needed to be rescued.”
“Rescued? Ha!” She rolled her eyes. “I had it all under control until you stepped in.”
“So you hoped that they’d beat the hell out of you before discovering you were using magic to deceive them, so when they found out, you wouldn’t be aware when they killed you? That was your plan?”
“Not exactly. You make it sound so, so crude. Amateur.”
I raised my eyebrow. “You’re not an amateur?”
“No!”
“Then why didn’t you know your emani magic wasn’t working? That it was doing the exact opposite of what you wanted?”
“You’re assuming what I wanted. Maybe I wanted to make the fisherman mad.”
It was my turn to have the gears rotating in my head. A couple of turns and it all clicked. “You were looking for me.”
A half-cocked smile crossed her face. “Took you long enough.”
“Harry sent you. To what, make sure I came back? That I didn’t run off with—” A gentle pressure, like a sliver of ice had been poked through my temple, reminded me I was being observed still. Or that I was crazy.
“What? Run off with what?” She leaned forward, her eyes wide.
“Nothing. I’m sure he didn’t tell you what I was doing. So why did he send you?”
“He thought you might need help.”
I laughed. “He did not! Tell me, are you a regular of his or someone he dug up for this one time?”
“Regular.” She looked toward the window, the stripes on the curtain undulating in a mesmerizing fashion.
She was lying. Of course, he sent someone who wouldn’t be associated with him. Either I’d have known, or whoever came looking after me would. I looked at her again. She wasn’t much younger than me, maybe in her early twenties. I guessed she hadn’t grown up on the street. She had too much refinement — the quality sweater, the way she carried herself as a city slicker merchant—to come from a rough background. A casteni then.
“When were you cast out?”
She snapped her head back toward me. “Who says I was?”
“You do. I mean, deny it if you wish, but I know a casteni when I see one.” I wasn’t about to let her know I was one too, that my family had shoved me out when they found out I had abilities. Of course, they first begged me to hide them, to never use magic again. They didn’t understand I couldn’t do that. It would have been like taking a breath in and never letting it out again. I’d have died. In spirit, if not in reality.
Her eyes dropped to the floor.
“There’s no shame in it. Really.” I stood and went to the door. “Let’s call it a night. We’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other on the way back to the central kingdom.”
She gave me a blank look.
“We leave tomorrow at seven on the Gloriad, bound for Isig. We’ll meet downstairs at six.”
“I don’t have passage booked. I didn’t know when you’d be back—”
“It’ll be fine. I’m sure they don’t have many passengers this time of year. And if they don’t, we’ll figure something out. After all, you need to be away from here by 8.”
“The bintinn was real?”
“Let’s hope the ship leaves on time.” I waved her out, then put protections around the room. It would keep intruders out. The physical ones. I could only hope I didn’t dream.
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