Worse Than An Orphan's Curse

Worse Than An Orphan's Curse

  by Rik Hunik

  Copyright 2013 by Rik Hunik

  Chapter 1: Worse Than An Orphan's Curse

  “Pity on an accursed soul, kind sir.” The voice, barely audible over the din of the market crowd, was a hoarse, wet wheeze.

  “I have none to spare,” Arcado said in disgust and quickly turned away. He and his uncle, Khazeem, only a single step into the market square, were already being accosted by the first of the beggars that clustered near the entrance.

  Port Boraka was full of unsavory characters, but a single glance was more than enough for this skinny wretch, the most pitiful Arcado had ever seen. Ugly pockmarks on his gray, scaly skin, many of them bone-deep craters, oozed fluid, disease had consumed his legs nearly to his knees, his hands, wrapped in soiled rags, had no fingers, one ear was a rotting hole in the side of his head, the other a festering lump, and one eye socket was hidden by a stained headband, which seemed to be all that was holding his few scraps of greasy, white hair to his ravaged scalp.

  Khazeem snatched Arcado from the path of a team of horses pulling an empty wagon out of the square. “Careful boy.”

  Over Khazeem's shoulder the beggar fixed Arcado with his one eye, a milky, yellowed orb. As Arcado turned away a wind chilled the back of his neck and it seemed as if a dark cloud obscured the sun. Khazeem took a silver coin from Arcado's purse and tossed it into the bowl which lay in the beggar’s lap.

  “May all the gods be kind to you both,” the beggar wheezed.

  Khazeem tugged at Arcado's arm. "Come, I'll buy you lunch." The coin had been worth at least five lunches, but even at sixty Khazeem still had a strong grip, and Arcado wanted to get away from that beggar anyhow. He went along without arguing.

  The sunlight felt too hot on his face and the dust of powdered horse dung kicked up by traffic made his nose itch. He wiped his sleeve across his forehead. “Why did you do that?”

  “That is Peli the Orphan, King of the Beggars. He has the Evil Eye.”

  Arcado snorted. “There’s no such thing.” Belief in such things would endanger his enrollment at the Royal University, upriver in the capital.

  Khazeem's eyebrows twitched. “Don’t you know the power of an orphan’s curse? Did you not feel the darkness gathering around you?”

  He had, but he dismissed it as his imagination. “No, I’m afraid not. They don’t teach crap like that at the university.”

  “Then I must tell you a story, and I know it's true because I was there.” The old man steered his nephew to a small, open-air eatery off to the side. A waiter scurried up, greeted Khazeem by name and took their orders.

  From his seat Arcado could turn his head and see Peli at his station. He seemed to generate shadow, like a gray mist hovering over him.

  “With the help of an inheritance from a rich uncle I had just started an import/export business, dealing in spices, jewels, fine cloth, exotic carpets and the like. Peli was a teenage orphan, begging and stealing in the streets and markets. He tried to steal from me and I caught him, but instead of having him arrested I took him in, gave him an honest job, and taught him the ways of business. He was very clever, he learned quickly and after a few years I made him my partner and we both grew rich.”

  “So what happened to him, to make him like he is now?”

  “Greed and pride brought him down. I remember the day it started. I walked into the warehouse and heard Peli shouting, ‘This is garbage. Take it away. I want my money back.’

  “The driver of the last wagon said, ‘I don’t have your money, I was just hired to deliver the goods. You’ll have to address your complaints to Captain Kordell.’ He called to his men, they climbed into the wagon and the driver set the team in motion.

  “While Peli watched me intently I surveyed the pile of rolled rugs, picked up the corner of one and felt it between my fingers.

  “He said, ‘I know they’re fakes, but they showed me genuine Kurassan rugs when I went to bid on them.’

  “‘Ah, the old put-the-good-stuff-on-top trick. I fell for it a few times myself. How much did you pay?’

  “He kept his gaze on the floor, and when he gave me the figure I managed not to whistle. I did some rough calculations in my head and said, ‘We must unload them fast, while demand for Kurassans is still high, even if we have to let them go for less than cost. If we sell our genuine ones for as much as possible, we can call in some favors to help us unload the imitations and we might break even this quarter.’ And we did too.

  “Peli nodded slowly. ‘I understand the figures but that’s not the point. Captain Kordell lied to me and practically stole our money.’

  “‘Relax, we’ll get by and we will never deal with him again.’”

  The waiter interrupted Khazeem’s story to bring them bowls of stew and thick slices of bread, accompanied by a pitcher of cold water.

  Arcado had been keeping an eye on Peli. Lots of coins collected in his bowl but they were shared with other beggars stationed around him. People who didn’t contribute were subjected to his eye; Arcado saw their smiles fade and their bodies sag, as though their loads were suddenly heavier.

  “What did Peli do to Kordell?”

  “Nothing at all for nearly a year because Captain Kordell sailed away, but I was with Peli in our warehouse when a street urchin rushed in and said, ‘Peli, you wanted me to tell you when Captain Kordell returned. Well, he’s back.’

  “Peli grabbed him by both shoulders and leaned into his face. ‘Where is he?’

  “‘Drinking at the Sea Dog Inn.’

  “Peli handed the lad a coin and ran out. I followed at a more civilized pace and by the time I got to the inn Peli was standing by Kordell, yelling, ‘You swindled me. You knew I was paying good money for second rate imitations. You’re nothing more than a bloody pirate.’

  “Kordell remained calm. ‘Every merchant knows to examine goods closely before paying for them. You were in such a greedy hurry that you swindled yourself.’ He turned away from Peli and resumed drinking his beer.

  “Peli refused to be ignored. He leaned over the table into Kordell’s face and said, ‘I will watch you die. By my long-dead parents and their forgotten ancestors, I curse you.’ He packed a full year of pent up hatred and simmering rage into that curse, flung out his hands as though flicking water into Kordell’s face and said, ‘Dead by dawn.’ Then he ordered a drink, sat at the next table and stared at Kordell.

  “Kordell tried to maintain his boisterous attitude but his laughter was forced and his beard sagged as his smile died. Soon he could take no more. He finished his beer and got up to leave.

  “Peli downed his own drink.

  “As soon as Kordell stepped through the door everybody heard a rumble overhead, followed by a brief scream and a crash from outside. I rushed out, second only to Peli, and saw that one of the slates from the roof, two feet across and a couple of inches thick, had somehow broken loose and hurtled down on Kordell. He had turned just in time to see his doom strike him in the midsection and crush him to the pavement.

  “It was plain Kordell was only moments from death. Peli stood over him, and they locked eyes. I was just a few paces away and I swear I could hear the connection sing like a sustained note from a tiny silver bell. Kordell’s lungs were filling with blood but he whispered,

  “‘Even worse than an orphan’s curse

  Is the curse in a dead man’s eye.

  Seven times seven years my curse

  Will torment you before you can die.’

  “Peli turned gray.

  “Kordell breathed his last, blood poured from his mouth, and his body sagged, lifeless, but the light in his eyes burned on. The heat of the curse curl
ed my beard and I hastily backed away. Peli spit on Kordell’s corpse and strode away.

  “About a year later I sold my share of our company to him for less than its value and reinvested. It was easy back then because I wasn’t married yet.”

  Arcado managed only a wan smile at the weak joke.

  “In time I prospered, while Peli’s decline was slow, but grew steadily worse as the years passed. People no longer wanted to deal with him, his credit went from bad to worse and eventually his company went bankrupt. He got thinner and thinner, and very pale, he was frequently ill and always had a rash. After his personal fortune slipped away he was reduced to begging. Over the course of decades disease ate at his body, reducing him to the maimed creature you see over there, living on in pain and misery.”

  Arcado pushed away his bowl, still half full of the delicious stew. “Surely it must have driven him mad long ago.”

  Uncle Khazeem shook his head. “His mind retreated to the edge of sanity but could never cross the line to madness. Although his condition gets worse every year he remains sane enough to remember what he was and how he came to be where he is.”

  “How can such a pitiful remnant continue to function? I’ve seen corpses that look better than he does.”

  “The power of the curse keeps him alive.”

  “Surely the curse must be nearly over now.”

  Khazeem shook his head. “No, not yet. It will endure for seven more years.”

  Arcado stood up. “I can't eat here. Let's go.”

  Khazeem smiled indulgently at his nephew, but he got up and they left by a different route.