Page 13 of Bounty Hunter

Vera

Ialmost giddily make the hour-long journey to Mr. Eddieren’s healing potions shop. It lies in a neighboring city, over the fae border, one much larger than the city I call home. I intentionally travel a busy road filled with others heading to work—merchants with their large wagons full of wares, and farmers with carts filled with food to sell at market. I slip between wagons and horses, but I don’t mind the traffic. Well-traveled roads such as these are safer for someone like me who’s traveling alone.

Rupi flutters to my shoulder amidst the busyness and nestles into the warm spot against my neck. I greet her with a smile and a small pinch of birdseed I always keep in a pocket of my long coat as I walk. The gentle cracking of the seeds in her tiny beak as she eats is a comforting, familiar sound, and her delighted chirps every so often bring a smile to my face. She showed up just before my parents died, hopping around me in the forest one day. And the next, and the next. Until I started bringing her home every night. The rest is history. Somehow, I think she knows how much I’ve needed her.

I don’t know much about birds, but I never thought she’d live this long, though she seems as young as ever. At first, I was just happy simply to have a pet, but I found out fast that Rupi is an excellent judge of character. And she’s a weapon in her own right with the way her fluff can turn to sharp edged quills with a ruffle of her feathers. I consider her my guard bird. She’s saved me from taking bad contracts, among other things. It seems silly to say, but I trust her judgement completely. I trail a finger down her tiny, smooth back, and she flicks her head to peck at my finger affectionately, then with a gentle flap of her small wings she takes off into the air and lands in the nearby trees. I don’t worry. She often leaves and always finds me again.

Soon enough, I enter the small potion shop that I’ve called work for the last three weeks, but not before noticing the sulfuric-scented fumes billowing from the chimney in dark, fat clouds. My nose wrinkles, and I hurry inside. I’ve contracted with enough potion makers to know that a scent like that indicates that Mr. Eddieren is in need of magical support. I find it’s even worse inside, the blend of smells coming from the back room are enough to drop a deathstalker. I quickly hang my coat and bag on a hook behind the counter and force myself to enter the awful-smelling back room to see sweat pouring from the potion master’s brow, the strain pulling at his face, and shaking in his hands. All signs of pulling fatigue. I quickly pull magic, invigorated by the cool of it as it runs through my veins. It’s difficult for me to comprehend the extreme energy it takes for others to pull magic when it seems so drawn to me that I have to be careful how much I pull and use in order to keep my true identity under wraps, not to speak of the way it’s cool and people will notice if I send too much at a time. I push it toward the potion maker, and he turns, relief in his eyes.

“Perfect timing!” he calls, as he accepts the magic withrelief. He keeps his focus on bringing the boiling solution before him to an exact temperature, muttering to himself here and there, but mostly in his own potion-making world now that he has enough magic and can focus.

I’m content to let him be throughout the day. I help customers at the front counter, chat with a few of the regulars, but am always sure to keep the offered magic flowing at a medium trickle as he finishes at least twenty more batches of an assortment of potions. By the end of the day, with the help of my magic, he seems no worse for wear and is chipper as usual. That’s what I’m paid for, after all, to pull raw magic and share it in a usable form so that those who aren’t Originators don’t die from the exertion of pulling, or lose their jobs from lack of magic. With gloam out of control and lucent diminished, it’s exhausting for those of other magic types to pull any amount of magic. The resource is limited and takes so much energy to use that some are basically Absent, but for most people, magic is a vital part of their existence and many struggle. It gets worse every year.

Though I hold a somewhat prestigious title, that of Originator, I am unwilling to charge as much for my services as most. Those who contract with me are struggling as much as I am. No upper class noble is going to hire a lower class Originator on permanently, like my Tulip sisters, leaving Renna and I to forage for the odd contracts here and there to create some type of consistent income. For some odd reason, magic made me able to pull large amounts of magic without tiring, and I don’t feel good about charging the poor people, who will actually hire me, their life’s savings to pay for it.

Most everyone struggles, thanks to the terrible leadership in all five kingdoms. The kings don’t care about the people I work with and care for—the poor and struggling. And if I’m honest,I’m one of ‘em. I’ve seen the kingdoms continue to diminish, heard the history from Tatania at the annual Tulip meetings, and seen firsthand the destitute state of too many people whose forefathers thrived. But aside from helping where I can, and offering less for my services than most, I’m just a Tulip pretending to be someone I hate, and I want to be done.

I grab a duster and begin cleaning, another of the duties I’ve taken on voluntarily. No sense in sitting around bored for days at a time. I’ve worked long hours for the last eight years to make enough to pay the semi-annual Black Tulip dues every six months and still build my savings to make a new start. To finally do something that doesn’t require me to live under the guise of an Originator. Every cent I have is taken by the outrageous cost of the complete dump I pay to live in, and the rest goes to Tulip dues, my savings, and very little amounts of food. My loose clothing attests to that fact. I look down at the belt I had to poke another hole in to cinch a little tighter, the waistband now scrunches up oddly around the men’s shirt I wear tucked into it. I shrug, they do the job. No one looks twice when I wear these clothes, which is helpful for a woman who travels alone, but I know I’ve gotta find something better to wear when I visit Mama Tina or she’ll outfit me in a wardrobe of her choosing, and I can’t have that. She always had decent suggestions when I was a teen, but I shiver when I think of the last outfit I saw her wearing—made her look like a genuine ostrich.

Instead of dreading how I’ll have to spend valuable coin on clothing I don’t care about, I spend a little time daydreaming about the perfect space I plan to purchase, where I’ll sell my odd trinkets, and best of all, how it has nothing to do with Originators or even Tulips. I couldn’t be happier at the thought. Of course, owning my own shop has its risks. If I don’t makeenough to pay the Tulip dues for the next six months, I’ll be forced to return to bounty hunting, or worse, having to beg money off Mama Tina, which I have never done in my life and refuse to do. And, maybe, after I’ve gathered the dues, I’ll finally have enough to buy food and fit in my clothes once again. It may not be a perfect, comfortable plan, but I can’t wait to get started.

I happily whip the duster between an assortment of bottles on a shelf. But then an annoying thought pops into my head, reminding me that I’ll miss many of the people I’ve contracted with over the years. I’ll worry for them. Healers, hunters, potion makers, weapon enchanters—I’ve worked with all of them here and there. My duster droops in my hand for a moment. Then I remind myself again that I’m a hated and obsolete Tulip, the best thing I can do is hide away.

By the end of the day, the entire building blessedly begins to smell of fresh fruit, sunlight, and honey, and I know I’ve done my job. I watch as Mr. Eddieren carefully pours the completed potion into small vials, marks the date of their creation on the bottom, caps them, and carefully sets them out under his front counter to sell.

I throw my ratty long-coat around my shoulders while he shuffles to his safe and returns with a small wad of cash. It should be much larger, if I charged him the average going rate for an Originator, but I take the money with a smile and pocket it, happy I can help a fellow struggling citizen.

“You’ll do great things, Avenera.” He squeezes my hand in a strong, fatherly grip.

I’m not so sure I’m capable of great, but definitely good. Average, at least. I smile anyway. Then my eyes get teary, and I know it’s time to leave. Though he’s distant and distracted most of the time, and I’ve only contracted with him a few times, he’sbeen kind and offered tidbits of wisdom here and there. And this is my last contract using my magic as I do. I give him a hug, smelling that sunshine and honey scent once again before I leave with a teary smile and one last wave. I take a moment to imprint the picture of his quaint shop, him standing at its door and smiling.

Then I turn and realize I’m a free woman, free to move on to the next chapter of my life, and joy rushes through my limbs. I will no longer need to call myself an Originator. I can call myself an Absent, if that’s what I want to be. For the first time in my life, through sheer grit and discipline, I’ve gotten ahead. I resist punching the air—I don’t like drawing attention to myself. Instead, I shove my hands deep into my coat pockets and tug it tight around me like a celebratory self-hug. I’ve struggled through soul-deep weariness and lack of food at times, worked long hours, taken semi-dangerous jobs, but I can feel the extra bounce in my step today. This last job has given me enough to pay my dues for another six months, and I’ve made enough to take my savings and buy the perfect spot. I run the entire way back to the city I call home. Rupi flies around beside me, sensing my joyous mood. I’m planning to splurge on tender meats, cheese, and homemade bread to share with Renna in celebration when she returns from the river job she’s taken in a week. She’s been there all along, my best friend, the one who understands the struggle of being a Tulip in a world where we are hated. Of being poor and the excitement of finally getting a little ahead. I smile again at the rush of joy that surges through my veins.

Chapter 10

Ikar

Iexcuse my personal servants, in no mood for any help with preparations for bed. It’s not like I’ll be sleeping anyway. I sit in my favorite leather chair, hunched forward with my forearms braced on my thighs. Simon crows from an enormous tree branch that seems to sprout directly from the wall. Arrow lays his head in my lap. I call him a wolf, but really, he appears to be a cross between a wolf and a bit of dog, with some hints of an armored creature, evidenced by the hard armor-like layer that covers his back, hidden beneath his wiry fur. His teeth and face have the appearance of a wolf, but his ears come to sharp silver points that split two ways, maybe another gift from his armored history. I don’t know, but he’s a loyal beast. I carefully scratch behind one of his ears as my mind drifts.

I leave tomorrow morning. I think Arrow can sense it. I have put off telling Nadiette. I have to say something before I leave, which means there are only hours until I have to tell her, the woman I’ve come to care for and the woman my people expect me to be with, that I can’t marry her. If things weredifferent, we could have the celebration I know she’s already been planning. To be honest, that the entire kingdom has been planning. Talks of having the cathedral church decorated in the finest silks, the design of her dress, and the light blue flowers that would be in her bouquet…

We’ve been in the same circles for years. We grew up together, so it’s only natural that we’d seek marriage with how we so easily get along and the attraction we share. We have an easy companionship, hours upon hours of conversation, and seem to balance each other in just the right ways as a future king and queen should. It would be too easy to simply go forward and marry her. My people would be happy, I would be happy in some respects, but it can’t be. It seems our being together really was too good to be true. I don’t worry about if she’ll marry or not. She’s a beautiful, cultured woman, and I have no doubt that once she’s known to be free of me that many others will seek her attention. A hint of jealousy flares in my chest.

I rest my head against the back of my chair and stare up at the crisscrossing beams of the high ceiling. Hopefully by morning, I have the words to say. All I know is my heart must be locked before I see her, or she will be mine and my kingdom’s undoing. If I marry her, I may have a short lived joy, but my kingdom and people will disintegrate beneath my fingertips. I groan and run a hand through my hair in frustration.

I have to rememberwhy. The faces of the soldiers who’ve died from the gloam attacks flash through my mind in random order. Men with families, children, parents, siblings. All mourning. Funeral after funeral. And then the people who’ve died just trying to pull magic for every day, mundane things. Usually, children, the sick, or the elderly. More funerals. The continual sight of so many fresh graves, the mounds of dark dirtcontrasted with the deep green of grass. Our crops grow smaller every year, the weather patterns are getting more unpredictable and further decimating our kingdom’s food sources. It’s like a horror story that never ends and only grows worse. I’m helpless to stop it if I continue my current path. I may not know where to start, how to find a strange flower or a Queen of the Night, but it’s something I cando. I have a mission. I feel an infinitesimal drop of hope, made smaller by the knowledge of the feats I must accomplish, but it’s hope, nonetheless.

“A Black Tulip?”Nadiette says, disdain lacing her voice. She can’t stop the lethal mixture of anger and disbelief from rising in her frown. “Tulips are obsolete, nonexistent. Everyone knows that.”

She reaches out and wraps her hand around my arm, and I clench my jaw, purposefully unresponsive to her familiarity.

She narrows her eyes. “You and I together, Ikar. We can overcome it all. We are the two most powerful people in the kingdom.” She infuses hope into her tone, and I feel my expression instinctively soften as my guilt attempts to choke me. I’ve heard this so many times. She doesn’t realize that what she’s always believed is untrue, and now is not the time to argue with her. But she seems to misinterpret my expression and uses it to fuel her next words. “Originators are the modern Tulips. You know that. How is a Tulip better than I?” Her chin lifts in challenge with her words.

I clench my jaw again. This conversation is going as horribly as I assumed it would. “Not better, per se. Different. And different is what duty requires.”

“I am not naive. I have seen firsthand the deathand destruction caused by magic untamed, but I refuse to believe there is no other way. You don’t need a Tulip. You needme.” Her eyes are as fiery as her hair now.

I find myself frowning at her response, unsure how to proceed.

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