Abraham Graves had a headache.
He splashed water from the porcelain bowl on his nightstand over his face, hoping to wash away the pain before beginning his day. Headaches weren’t uncommon. Usually, he got them when a storm was coming, but the morning sky beyond his bedroom window promised a sunny day. Perhaps the storm was elsewhere then? There had been that sudden shower yesterday. It felt like it had to be a big one. The kind that left crops and houses in ruins.
The lukewarm water felt like it only helped a little. It was times like this that he wished he had a mirror. His aunt would call him a dandy for suggesting it. Mirrors were expensive and only a handful of establishments had them. Just because Abraham could afford one now didn’t make one worth the investment. He’d already invested much into his appearance, he reflected, washing his hands and then moving to brush his teeth with his horsehair toothbrush and baking soda. His smile was one of the whitest in town.
He was a lean young man, twenty-five now, and fairly handsome if he did say so himself, but he wasn’t so vain as to think his appearance was why everyone in town knew him. The red coat, set carefully out on his bed, identified him far better than his face. Only the merchants who braved travels to the other towns beyond the wall and wilderness, full of monsters and roving zombies, could supply it. It had been one of his earliest investments and he cared for it very carefully.
The front door opened and closed downstairs and brought with it the aroma of freshly baked bread. Aunt Delilah had been to the bakery already. Plenty of women baked their own bread at home. The idea of Aunt Delilah baking was enough to bring a smile to Abraham’s face and nearly drove back the headache that the water hadn’t been able to manage. If only there was a way to keep the water cold for longer than a few hours after it was drawn from the pump in the backyard.
He glanced down at the secret to his success and the likely culprit of his headache. His mother had given him the talisman as a child only days before she’d passed away. It was an ugly thing, hanging from a delicate black chain, consisting of a glass sphere filled with a red liquid he sincerely hoped wasn’t blood and a long, narrow fang from no animal he’d ever been able to identity. Admittedly, he hadn’t tried very hard. He was eccentric enough that even showing it to one of the town’s only trappers would have rumors flying in no time.
He hid it beneath his linen tunic, slid into his fine red coat, and tucked his black trousers into his polished leather boots before following the scent of bread downstairs to the kitchen where he found Aunt Delilah fending off his cousin Audrey from the breadbasket.
She turned at his approach, slapping away Audrey’s darting fingers with a scarred hand. His uncle had been a tanner before his passing, as had his wife. A tanner without acid scars on their hands and arms was no tanner, he had said. The man had been set in his ways and would have been appalled at the way Abraham had handled the money he’d left behind, even if the results had been so fruitful. Now Aunt Delilah owned and operated the tannery and Audrey would never have to suffer the same scars as her parents.
“The dashing dandy joins us at last,” Aunt Delilah said, turning to take him in.
Her distraction cost her a load of bread as Audrey nimbly snatched it from the basket.
Aunt Delilah snorted, then grabbed her countertop and pretended she hadn’t just gotten dizzy. Both he and Audrey pretended not to notice. She hated being fussed over. A severe woman with matching features. Her face was drawn and pale, her hair gone to gray. The bleeding prematurely aged everyone it touched. The illness wasn’t contagious as far as anyone could tell. It also wasn’t escapable. It was just a part of the reality of living in town. Some said that people who lived in the wilds never caught it. No, they just got their brains eaten by zombies. Aunt Delilah had never let her illness keep her from her work. It wasn’t in her.
“A man who works with other people’s money needs to look like he has money,” Abraham said. “Just as a tanner must have acid scars, I need my clients to know that they can trust me.”
She was not one to turn away the fruits of his labor, nor was she one to understand them. To her, he’d always be a gambling risk-taker. Aunt Delilah was half convinced that he would drive them to ruin at any day. She didn’t comprehend that Abraham hadn’t gambled with their money in years. “Could have gone into banking. You’re good with the numbers.”
“Not enough opportunity,” Abraham said. “It would have taken me years to build what we have now if I’d become a banker.”
She sniffed. “At least you could buy us a mirror. If you’re going to look your best, I don’t see why the rest of us shouldn’t.”
Abraham’s headache throbbed. For all his carefully mathematical skill and the power of his secret talisman, he suspected that he would never truly understand people. Let alone women. “I’ll give it some thought, Aunt Delilah.”
“Catch!” Audrey said and Abraham barely caught the half of her stolen loaf she tossed him. “Didn’t see that coming, did you?” she teased.
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
She laughed. The noise should have made his headache worse. Instead, it pushed the pain back and he found himself smiling along with her. “I’ll walk you to work before making my rounds.”
“Such a gentleman,” Audrey said with a faux curtsey and a flourish of her half-loaf.
Aunt Delilah shook her head. “How are you ever going to meet a worthwhile husband working in that establishment?” She said the word the way most people said “outhouse.”
Audrey rolled her eyes. “Bye, Mom.”
She and Abraham escaped to the street beyond and began the short walk to The Ellipses, the casino that had changed their lives. Abraham had taken his portion of the money his uncle had left him, against his Aunt’s instructions, and bet it all on a night of wild gambling. Between his talisman and skill with numbers, he’d taken the casino for all that they were worth. Three nights of this and the establishment was less than happy with him.
The leg-breakers had taken him to meet the owners to teach him a lesson about cheating. Only, that had been Abraham’s goal all along. In the biggest gamble of his life, he’d used his earnings to buy a portion of the casino, becoming a part owner. It almost hadn’t worked. Only Cyprian Corvidaen, the youngest of the owners and psion of the most powerful family in Cantury, had understood Abraham’s mathematical explanations.
That had baffled Abraham. Only one of the four owners had actually understood how their establishment made money. The old adage, the house always wins, had been enough for most of them. Abraham grinned at the memory. He’d been nineteen.
With Cyprian’s backing, he’d created an entirely new business. At Cyprian’s amused insistence, he had called it Insurance. As before, Cyprian had been the only one to understand the business model and the way Abraham’s numbers worked. He’d seemed almost familiar with it, in fact, though Abraham knew that nobody else in Cantury had ever done anything like this befor.
After the first three years, the others trusted both Abraham and Cyprian enough to back the new business. So far, it was working as expected, though it would be years yet before the real wealth developed. Cyprian hadn’t minded that. They were a lot alike, him and Cyprian. Long view risk takers. Small wonder, Abraham reflected, with the Corvidaen owning the local merchant caravan and, more recently, purchasing the Grand Quarry mines, beyond the safety of Cantury’s wall. Business outside the wall, where beastmen and zombies lurked, was more dangerous and unpredictable than even Abraham was willing to risk.
A small piece of bread hit him in the face, pulling Abraham from his thoughts, to find Audrey smirking at him. “The point of escorting a lady is to keep her company. Not to spend time lost in your own head.”
They edged to the far end of the walkway as a horse drawn carriage rattled down the dirt road. It turned to mud when it rained. He’d heard one of the merchants complaining about it once. Other towns supposedly had stones or bricks laid out to make the driving easier. The cost of that…he pulled himself away before that thought could overtake him and instead focused on Audrey.
“Your head’s hurting,” she said. “You always get lost in thought when your head hurts.”
She’d always been able to read him, even before she’d become a barkeep for Ellipses. That had only honed her skill further. Her mother didn’t approve of her barkeeping any more than she did Audrey apprenticing under Cantury’s brewer, but she brought home steady money, wasn’t getting scarred by tannery acids, and wasn’t having her bottom pinched working as a barmaid at least.
Abraham nodded. “It’s nothing.”
“Is it the…” she flicked her eyes to his chest, where his talisman was hidden beneath his coat and tunic. “You know?”
They rarely spoke outright of his talisman, or the odd sense of precognition it bestowed upon him. It was the sort of thing that could well turn the town against him. Everyone feared the monsters beyond the walls. Something supernatural clearly made from their parts would not be viewed with favor, and especially not someone crazy enough to wear it.
Maybe it was time to put the talisman away? He’d used it for the last several years to invest his earnings into multiple businesses around town. Using his own mathematics, he’d set predictions upon a number of businesses, such as tailors, smithies, and breweries. The talisman had told him which of those were safest to bet on. Supplemented by his own calculations, it had never been wrong.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Until now, he thought, glancing up at the bright, cloud-free sky. “I…think so. It’s never made me feel like this though. Like there’s a storm raging in the distance.” He looked pointedly up at the bright, clear sky, wincing as he did so. The light stabbed at his eyes and made his headache flare. That hadn’t been smart.
“You’ve always had good instincts,” Audrey said. “Listen to them.”
“And what instincts might we be listening to?” asked Cyprian Corvidaen, stepping up to join them from where he’d been waiting.
“Mr. Corvidaen,” Audrey said, this time with a genuine curtsy.
Cyprian smiled. It was perhaps the only smile whiter than Abraham’s own in Cantury and if the man’s canine teeth were a little longer and sharper than was usual, they didn’t detract from dazzling effect. Cyprian wasn’t a handsome man; he was a beautiful one. Pale skin and dark-haired, he hadn’t seemed to have aged at all since Abraham had begun working with him.
“Miss Waters, please,” he said. “I’ve told you to call me Cyprian.”
“Of course, sir,” Audrey replied, a shy smile at her lips.
Abraham wished the two would get over this odd dance of theirs and begin courting properly already. He’d never understood what held them back. Clearly. they were attracted to one another and the two could get as lost in their conversations as he did in his own thoughts. Something had always kept them both back, though. He sincerely hoped that it wasn’t him. Abraham never wanted to be the one standing in the way of his cousin’s happiness.
“My cousin was just accusing me of not being a proper gentleman,” Abraham said. “Perhaps you could supply one to escort her the rest of the way to the brewery?”
“I think I might be so able,” he said, offering Audrey his arm. “If the lady will have me.”
She placed her arm upon his. “I think you just might do. For now, sir.”
Abraham left them, laughing at one another’s jokes, to make his rounds. Eventually he would hire others to do this for him, but for now his insurance business was too new. He needed to build trust with his clients. Rapport.
Most of his clients came from Cantury’s gardeners who provided the citizens with their fresh produce, but he’d managed two of the town’s few farms as well. Cantury was built with the town proper at the center, surrounded by a wall with four gates for the surrounding farmers to enter through to sell their wares. Beyond the farms was the secondary wall, higher than the interior and thicker. Both were manned with guards, but the outer wall had only one point of entry where the merchant caravan and miners entered through.
That was where Abraham headed after visiting three gardeners, all of whom complained and handed over their coin only reluctantly. It was a shame. His business model was supposed to bring them all peace of mind, not a sense of being robbed. Then again, he’d only had a few causes to pay out thus far. He reminded himself that the business was still young. Years down the road, gardeners, farmers, and even other businessmen, would consider it insane not to have the support of his service.
The Hill’s farm was one of the two that flanked the exterior gate, which was why Frederick Hill had been willing to buy into Abraham’s intangible promise. Cantury hadn’t had a zombie incursion or disease come through the gate in years. But the citizens remembered. The Hill’s farm would be one of the first two to be attacked or blighted the next time it happened. And it would happen, Abraham knew sadly. It was only a matter of time. It was also why the Hills were far from ideal clients. At this stage, however, he couldn’t afford to be picky.
Still, with no monsters or disease in recent memory, he was surprised to find Frederick Hill waiting for him. At the edge of his property. His sons, and even his daughter, were with him. They were thinner than they’d been last month and clutched their hoes and pitchforks with identical expressions of grim desperation. Something was very, very wrong. Abraham didn’t need his talisman to sense that, though through it he could sense the promise of violence lurking beneath the surface. Abraham also sensed opportunity. He would have to play this very carefully.
It only took a glance behind the family to note what was wrong. The field, which should have been golden with wheat, was sparse. Half of it was spotted with odd black spots.
“What happened?” he asked, gesturing to the field.
“Blight,” Frederick said. “Never seen this kind before.” He sounded like unclenching to speak his jaw was an effort.
Abraham ran quick calculations in his head, then produced his money pouch and held it out to the desperate farmer.
Frederick stared at it.
“This should see your family through the next month,” Abraham said. “We’ll have to do some investigating to discover the exact extent of the damage, of course, as well as to find ways to prevent it from happening again. Please consider this a deposit against what you’ll be owed. We’ll make sure you’re taken care of and can plant anew in no time, Mr. Hill.”
He glanced around conspiratorially. “Don’t tell anyone I gave that to you without doing the paperwork first.”
They wouldn’t be happy about that, even if he knew exactly how many coins were in the purse—Abraham rarely forgot his numbers. Then again, they wouldn’t be happy about paying anything. This would not be a small payout, Abraham could already tell, but the business was still making a tidy profit, even with this expense. That was the nature of this new business.
Frederick stared at the purse, then looked to Abraham, gawking. “Just like that?”
Abraham shrugged. “Just like that. That’s the whole point of the insurance you purchased. For when things like this happen.”
Frederick continued to stare at him while his children shuffled about uncomfortable, shifting their grip on their farming implements.
Abraham eyed those implements. They were poor improvised weapons, but he was hardly a warrior. It wouldn’t have taken the Hills much to seriously hurt him. “Not quite what you were expecting?”
“John Fischer said you didn’t pay up when he had trouble,” Frederick said.
“John Fischer’s tomatoes went bad because he didn’t do his due diligence as a gardener. My insurance protects from accidents and unforeseeable events such as this,” Abraham gestured to the blighted wheat. “Not incompetence. I’m afraid there’s no fixing lazy or stupid, and you, Mr. Hill, are neither of those.”
Frederick gave a feeble grin, then barked a laugh. With shaking hands he looked into the purse for the first time. Tears came to his eyes and he dropped his hoe. “This…this….”
“Is just the down payment,” Abraham repeated. “Would you and your family mind showing me around the property. I’ll need another set of eyes to come out of course, but if I have an idea of what we’re looking at I can get started on getting you the rest of what you’re owed.”
Frederick Hill’s mouth opened and closed, silently forming the words “The rest.”
Abraham found his host far more agreeable after that and it made his step a little lighter as he was shown about the property and offered sweet iced tea. The Hills weren’t poor, but like most farmers, a ruined crop like this could be devastating. It always disturbed Abraham how poorly so many of his fellow townsfolk planned and saved for the future. This was like the casino owners all over again, only this time, his product proved genuinely helpful. That was the idea of it. He made money and people who needed it, like the Hills, got the help they needed.
What was more, he’d secured their loyalty to his new business. They would tell the other farmers how their insurance had saved them when this blight hit. Lifelong customers who would spread the word far better than he could about the benefits of his business. In years to come, he’d make far more off of them than this one-time payout.
It was as he was shaking hands with Frederick Hill for the seventh time, preparing to head back into the inner city, that the gates opened. For a moment, Abraham expected to see a merchant caravan from another town come through, though he knew it was the wrong day. Instead, the Corvidaen miners entered, flanking several mule-drawn wagonloads of covered ore.
They had brought in a lot of foreign miners when they’d bought the Grand Quarry operation. That had always struck Abraham as odd. More expensive than it was worth. It had to be to incentivize someone to leave the safety of their hometown and brave the wilds to go somewhere else for work. Best he could figure, the miners had to be some kind of specialized experts that made the payout worth it.
One of the tarp-covered loads held his attention and the headache he’d been fighting all day flared behind his eyes with shooting pain.
He winced and looked away, only for his eyes to settle on the last of the people entering behind the wagons. Abraham stared at her. She was no miner. The Corvidaen family had brought in people from other towns who were crazy enough to work beyond the safety of the wall each day, but he hadn’t expected anything like this woman. She was stunning.
Her skin was bright golden from the sun, and with how little clothing she wore it was small wonder. She was garbed in the oddest attire he had ever seen, with her modesty protected by the flowing pale blue cloth that twined about her body. The fabric couldn’t seem to decide whether it wanted to be small clothes or a gossamer robe, and left her arms, most of her legs, and toned midriff completely bare. No woman in Cantury would reveal that much flesh. She had plenty to be proud of.
Somehow the woman managed to be both curvaceous and athletic at the same time, with heavy, muscular thighs. And her face…her expression was almost too severe for her youthful features. Her pale, canted eyes darted every which way, taking in every detail around her, even as her lush mouth begged to be kissed. She was barefoot and carried with her a golden staff topped with the largest sapphire he had ever seen, and jagged enough to make it seem as if she carried a spear. How did any woman manage to move with such sensuous yet subtle grace?
He was so captivated by the woman that he almost failed to notice how absolutely no one else was looking at her. She was definitely foreign, but if she was a miner he’d eat his coat. Who would go beyond the wall dressed like, especially with no shoes? For that matter, who would leave their house in such a costume? It was the sort of thing out of a lascivious story about courtesans and ancient sultans. Not the wilderness or their small town. How was no one talking about her?
He excused himself from Frederick and made his way as hurried as he could manage and still feign nonchalance to the caravan of miners. He tried not to look at the wagon in the middle. Every time he did, his head pulsed with pain. It was a sensation akin to that of the storm raging in the distance. His talisman had to be broken. What could be so bad about a lump of ore?
Soon enough he fell into step beside the woman and casually strolled beside her, trying not to be obvious about his attention as they strolled back into town. She, however, was not subtle at all in the way she eyed him. Her puzzlement was evident. He waited for a time to see if she would break the silence between them, but she seemed determined to keep it.
Abraham wished he was better with women. Numbers were his forte. He reminded himself that he’d done fairly well with the Hills. They were clients though, not gorgeous, exotic women.
Steeling himself, he broke the quiet. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before,” he said, offering her a smile. “And I definitely would have remembered you.”
Her eyes went wide. She stopped walking, freezing in place.
He stopped with her and cast about. “What?”
“You can see me?” she asked.
“Uh…” that was an odd question. “Yes. Shouldn’t I be able to?”
Those pale eyes of hers found his. He had the peculiar sensation that they were looking through his eyes and straight into him. A faint pressure built in his skull, distinct from his headache. With an effort he managed not to wince. Confidence, he had learned, was a key ingredient to success, even if you had no idea what you were doing. Surely some of that had to carry over to interacting with beautiful women.
He held her gaze.
The puzzlement of the woman didn’t fade, but it was joined by another emotion. It was so strange to have it directed at him that Abraham almost didn’t recognize it.
She was afraid of him.
“No,” she finally said. “You shouldn’t.”