A Debtor's Chains

    “Wait,” Sean said before he could talk himself out of the idea, “there is actually something else I wanted to discuss with you.”

    “Oh? And what would that be?” Aster asked, already half turned towards the door. His smile was predatory.

    “I want you to tell me how we can heal Mordren. He was the one who handled the orb and he’s dying from whatever poison that thing was putting out.”

    Aster pivoted back towards Sean. “I see, so that’s how you managed to complete your task. Using others to shield yourself from danger? I must say, I applaud.”

    “He tapped his finger against his chin. “I certainly could tell you how to save my former servant, but I won’t. The knowledge would do you no good. To cure the effects of mana contamination one must have years of practice and a vast well of mana to draw on.”

    “Then at least tell us where we can find someone who can help. Please. You owe him that much at least.”

    All trace of good humor fled from Aster’s face. He fixed his gaze on Sean and for the first time in their brief acquaintance, Sean felt a glimmer of fear.

    “I do not owe anyone anything. I fulfill all of my contracts to the letter. My contract with Mordren ended when he failed to uphold his end of the bargain, so do not speak to me of debts.”

    Aster stalked over to the bed, his thunderous eyes raking across the elf’s prone form. Flick moved to shield Mordren from his former master’s attention, but Sean put out an arm to stop her.

    “If you wish to save this broken instrument of yours, I can do so in an instant. The doing will incur an obligation that I expect to be repaid in a manner of my choosing. It will be, of course, outside the agreement that already ties me to your kingdom.”

    The idea of handing Aster the blank check he was asking for made Sean queasy.

    “What if I promised to perform some other service for you? I’m sure you still have things that need doing around Thairis that you don’t want to bother with yourself.” He offered, grasping for another option. “Or what if I search out some artifact for you back in Aiane?”

    The man in white let out a laugh. It wasn’t one of the sly chuckles or insinuating snickers from before. This was a full-throated, open-mouthed laugh that caused his teeth to glint white in the lamplight, and it was entirely devoid of mirth.

    “You think you’re in a position to bargain!” He exclaimed, scorn dripping from his voice. “No, child, there will be no haggling here, no back and forth. There is only a decision and a consequence. A favor for a life.”

    It was Flick’s turn to place a restraining hand on Sean. “I know how you feel lad, but the price is too steep. You can’t know what you’ll be asked for and when.” She looked down at Mordren, the corners of her eyes creasing. “I daresay he’d agree.”

    “Indeed he would, little changeling, but the choice isn’t his.” Aster agreed. His smile was back and pointed towards Sean, as he reached down to squeeze Mordren’s shoulder. “It’s time to decide what type of king you want to be.”

    Sean didn’t hesitate. “Do it, Aster. You have your deal, a favor for a life, just like you said.”

    A knife dug into Sean’s chest, at least that’s how it felt to him. He doubled over with a scream as it carved the terms of his agreement into the walls of his heart, leaving Flick to watch, impotent, as Aster ran a hand down Mordren’s chest.

    There was a throb of energy in the air as Aster pulled a line of red mist out of Mordren’s core. It coalesced into an orb, swirling angrily in his hand as he contemplated it. “Ah, wayward servant of mine. So loyal, so single minded in your desire to please. I had such high hopes for you, but in the end…”

    His hand closed into a fist around the orb, extinguishing it. “… you were just a poor investment.”

    The effect was immediate. Sean hadn’t even realized the heat that had been rolling off of Mordren’s body, but as the mana was quenched so was the man’s fever. His skin changed from a blotchy purple to a healthy pink, and his breathing evened out.

    Sean watched as the gloves, which before had been seared so tightly to the elf’s flesh that the seam between arm and accoutrements had disappeared, turned to dust. The grains piled up on the mattress, leaving only unblemished flesh behind.

    Mordren’s eyes shot open as he took in a gasp of air. They took in the scene: Flick’s distraught expression, Sean’s kneeling agony, and Aster’s look of satisfaction.

    “Tell me you didn’t.” He all but begged Sean. Sean tried to answer, but he couldn’t get the words out.

    Mordren turned to his former master, whose back was already to him. “Please, lord, tell me he didn’t.”

    Aster didn’t bother to reply, collecting his remaining attendant and making his way towards the door. As he began to leave the room, he stopped himself and leaned back inside.

    “Oh, and Sean? When Corvane comes back to his senses, thank him for me. I think he’s provided the foundation for a truly remarkable relationship.”

    Sean gaped at him like a fish, trying to come up with an answer as the man’s attendant closed the door behind them.