Nothing Risked, Nothing Gained

“Careful,” Kline said in warning, as he glanced at Kalena, barely able to move his eyes from the fairies who were all around him asking for the wine.

“Always,” she replied automatically, even as she knew it to be lie. She certainly could be exceedingly careful, but life was about risk. A dull life she would have hardly found worth living, and a part of her relished matching wits with this crafty little Fey man who was so alien and otherworldly compared to the relatable human beings she normally dealt with with aplomb. She stared up at him on the barrel, meeting his gaze in the sparkling purple faerie-light.

“I want to peer into your mind and have one secret,” Glumly stated, in an almost Faustian manner. There was a collective hush through the surrounding fey, all of them pausing to watch this dangerous exchange.

Kalena schooled her face to not show the fear and discomfort of what he was asking of her. She was a keeper of a great many secrets, both private and professional. Not a few were dark and terrible whose revelation could quite easily cost her life and those of others, and even bring kingdoms to war. Everything from all those she killed over the years, and for whom she killed them, her trusted contacts she relied upon, her collection of aliases she used in her travels, the different safe houses she owned, her extensive financial holdings, to the precious confidences individuals such as Queen Thalia herself had shared with her.

Secrets were part and parcel of her former career as a top assassin. She knew just how fortunate she was to have been able to walk away from serving all the various power players of the world; it was, not surprisingly, a very low percentage of contract killers that survived to enjoy their retirements, and this was why she had made herself quit on such a high note. For her last job she had killed no less than the king of the Timber Crag empire. What a rush that had been! And the worse part was she couldn't dare brag about it to anyone. Then there were secrets she was a lot less proud of, and would never think of telling anyone.

“One secret? Is that all?” Kalena said with a note of incredulity in her voice. “You must think me mad to agree to something like that.”

Glumly twirled a finger around the beard on his chin and looked down at her from atop the barrel. “Just one and I will pick at random, but it will become mine, and you will only know it again when it is spoken to you.” He started constructing the contract as they stood there, looking up as if it were written in the darkness of the sky. “And it will be one you would not speak in the light of day or reveal to those you most love and trust. A secret that could be something simple and just embarrassing, a trifle, a nothing, perhaps, but then it might be worth a great deal to me. Would you not say then we both have the same odds of a return?”

Kalena scowled, but nodded. “An uncertain outcome, to be sure. It's highly doubtful there is remotely anything at the bandit's camp that is equivalent in worth to the paltriest of my secrets, which I place an inordinate amount of personal value on, by the way. However, I must admit to having a certain weakness for gambling, and the thrill of danger can be so hard at times for me to resist. Nothing risked, nothing gained, as they say, and who knows what we might gain,” she said, glancing over at Kline. “Perhaps I am a little mad that I'm even considering this at all.”

She pursed her lips as she studied the little brownie's inhuman eyes and toothy smile. “Very well, Glumly. I'll agree to your deal, on one single condition: that you will not use this particular secret against me. You are free to benefit from it in any way you can or see fit, provided you give me your solemn word that it shall not be at my expense – or rather, at the very least, not at the expense of my life and livelihood. If you abide by that, I will allow you the honour of having a very small peek into my mind.”

She possessed no means whatsoever to prevent him from magically sifting through all her memories if he wanted to, so that he was asking made her think he and his kind were bound to some established code of behaviour, and Glumly would therefore restrain himself to just the sliver she permitted him.

She felt an appreciable tinge of nervousness as she began wondering just what secret of hers he might pluck out of her mind, and gave a somewhat shaky smile.

OOC: Ren, if you wanted to, perhaps you could write up a character profile for Glumly? I think he has the potential to be more than a one-off character.