“Until such a time as I am released?”
“Period. Ever. All things with any connection to me, my family, my friends, or my possessions are protected from you, across the board.”
“Hm,” he mused.
“What’s the issue?”
“Merely considering.”
“I need the guarantee that, once we set you on the Lord of Toronto, you aren’t going to harm me, my family, or my friends.”
“I can affect the remainder of the city? The region?”
“You wouldn’t accept the deal if I forbade it,” I said.
“No, I wouldn’t,” he said. “I shall prevent harm to you and yours, from my hand, my power, my word, and my servants, to the best of my ability.”
He pointed at the paper. I bent down to scribble it out, paused.
“You… and any other being you work with,” I said. I didn’t want him bringing another demon in to hurt me.
“Granted.”
I hesitated.
“Any other power you interact with must agree to the same, and they must agree to bind anyone they work with to the same, in turn, ad infinitum,” I said.
“Hrm,” he grunted.
“Yes?”
“Granted,” he said.
I thought of Tiffany… “Tell me you haven’t done harm to others.”
“You’re delaying. Write.”
“So are you. Delaying, I mean. Are my friends okay? You didn’t send your animals to harass anyone or hunt anyone down?”
“I’ve done nothing direct. As for incidental damage?” he smiled.
“As for incidental damage?”
“I couldn’t say for certain,” he said. “I would have to visit the people, objects, or locations in question.”
Worrisome, but the only real solution would be to hurry through this and check on my friends when all was settled.
I wrote it out, tore up the paper, so each paragraph was a separate block, then spaced it out. Sub-clauses and stipulations were effectively indented.
A field mouse limped closer.
“If they interfere, I’m liable to consider it a sign of your disinterest,” I said. “We got this far, let’s not spoil it.”
“Mm,” he said. “Git!”
The mouse scampered off, running off the table. The thump it made as it hit the ground caught me off guard. Mice were light enough they wouldn’t necessarily make a sound like that. I leaned to one side and saw that it had broken its neck in the fall. Head first.
Was this it? It didn’t feel like enough.
“Rather than suggest a penalty,” I said. “We say the contract takes effect the moment you are bound.”
“Yes.”
“The terms do not end when the binding does.”
“Hmm, yes.”
“My binding will be weak, in addition to being temporary. You will not take any action to free yourself in the meantime, nor will you take actions before or after to work against the contract’s terms, or you will be considered to be acting in bad faith, with a penalty I’m free to designate,” I said.
“No,” Pauz said. “We’ll stipulate a penalty now.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “If you act in bad faith-”
“Clearer,” he said, sounding annoyed.
“If you free yourself, if you bend or abuse the terms in such a way that suggests you are not acting with the intent of being bound and delivered to Conquest, and subsequently freed-”
“Clearer. Narrower.”
I almost refined the terms further, then stopped.
That was interesting, that he wanted it narrowed from that.
That was very, very interesting.
“Are you telling me that there’s a loophole you’re already planning on abusing to slip from your duties?” I asked.
“I’m telling you I want clearer, narrower terms,” he said, growling the words. “And defined penalties.”
Which wasn’t a no.
I leaned on the table, trying to ignore the greasy film on the surface, looking down at the paper, reading over everything. The parties involved, the objective, the responsibilities of each party, my penalties for failure… I shifted the remaining papers down to leave an obvious gap where his penalties for failure and ill-faith could go. Protections for me and mine-
“You define the penalties first,” he said, interrupting me.
“I will,” I answered, “After. Right now you’re trying to distract me.”
“Right now I’m trying to get you to define the penalties,” he said. Talking more for the sake of distracting me than to add something to the conversation.
“Where was the trap?
Harm?
He would prevent harm to me and mine, by his hand, his word…
Wait.
Okay, I was pretty sure I saw it.
His hand? Archaic language, or was he justified in using his foot, his teeth? Even his claw?
I made a mental note. Something I could use, maybe, and something I would have to come back to in a minute.
“Alright,” I said. I looked down at the scraps of yellow paper, bright in the relative gloom of Dowght’s home, covered in my scrawled print. I’d never had tidy handwriting. “Let’s talk penalties.”
He seemed satisfied with that. I was backing down.
“If you fail to keep your end of the bargain,” I said, “You forfeit every hold you have in this world. Every person, every animal, every place, idea, every whatever. You undo it all.”
“I am starting to think,” the imp said, his eyes flashing in the gloom on the far side of the table, “I should kill you after all.”
From relaxation and satisfaction to a death threat in a matter of seconds.
I stared across the table at Dowght. The wretched man.
I wasn’t sure what he’d done to give the imp an in. Good and evil apparently didn’t have much weight in the grand scheme of things, it was about right and wrong.
Had Dowght committed some wrong? Some betrayal to himself or some personal code?
Whatever the case, if I could free him of his burden through some side-clause… he probably wasn’t going to have much of a life, whatever happened, but hopefully the burden wouldn’t drag him down to some horrible afterlife.
“I take it you don’t like the terms,” I said.
“No, I do not.”
Okay.
I knew he wanted me to miss the ‘hand’ thing. He wanted to slip it through.
Could I use that? Divert his attention, then resolve it later?
“There’s the question of the actual terms,” I said, staring at him, “What justifies the penalties.”
“Too broad, mortal. The penalties too weighty, considering the very small parcel of land you offer for your own failure.”
“Seems fair to me,” I said. “Hell of a lot at stake. I’ll tell you what. I’m going to read over what we have so far, look for any sneaky issues in wording, and you can decide what you’re willing to offer as a penalty. Take your time while I read, come up with a good offer, and I can give it a serious listen.”
“Or,” he said, drawing out the word, “We can talk it out.”
“I’m doing most of the suggesting, you’re dismissing my suggestions, and I really should be reading this over to look for mischief,” I said, knowing full well that there was mischief, and he didn’t want me to look. “Take a minute.”