Flynn
I pushed open the swinging doors of the Snuggly Duckling and walked confidently in. I pushed up the sleeves on my shirt, revealing my forearms, and looked around. I had always felt comfortable here in a rough-guy tavern like this, full of murderers, wanted thiefs—like me—and pirates taking rest from open-sea travel.
"Are you Flynn Rider?" growled a nasal voice from behind me.
I turned, and a thin man cloaked in sat there at a small table black, two mugs of cold ale sitting before him.
I lowered my voice. "Yes. And you are…?"
"Gray," he whispered.
"Gray?"
"Just Gray," the old man whispered back. And true to his name, his arms and face were ashy, and his hair was stringy and gray, drooping low over his wrinkled forehead. I made a face as I took a seat across from him.
He shoved a mug of ale at me. "Drink, Rider."
I looked down at the cloudy liquid. "No thanks."
Gray coughed. "You better sample it, boy. I already paid for it in what little I had. Either drink up, or pay me."
I took a deep breath and took a tiny swallow of the ale. It was cold and slimy, and I wondered if Gray had poisoned it. Hopefully not. Deciding to take my chances, I downed the whole thing, and then beckoned over a waiter for a refill.
Gray smiled. "I knew you'd like it, Rider."
"Why did you invite me here?" I asked him, wanting to cut to the chase. Weeks before, running from the royal guards after stealing a golden chalice for the Stabbington Brothers, I had split from them and traveled deep into the woods, where there was a letter lying in the middle of the path like it was meant for me.
It only had a few words, but it was enough to get my attention:
In dire need of money?
Come to the Snuggly Duckling on Tuesday at around midnight. I'll be wearing a black cloak. Write your name below and slip this into the hollow tree directly before you.
And I had.
This small man didn't look rich. He looked like a homeless man.
"Where's the money I was promised?" I demanded, feeling the dagger at my belt. I wasn't afraid to use it, in case the old man was a fraud.
"I didn't promise you any money," said Gray in a calm voice. I tensed, a muscle twitching in my cheek. I felt the sharp edge of the dagger, and the surly waiter brought a new mug of ale to me. I took a swallow. "What do you mean you didn't promise me any money?"
I reached for the satchel that hung around my shoulder. I pulled out the letter and shoved it at him, stabbing my finger at the crude writing on it.
Gray simply pushed the paper and my hand away. "I know what was written," he said scornfully. "I wrote it, boy."
My anger was building up. "You're a liar," I snarled, standing up. "Get out of my sight."
"Hold your temper, Rider," snapped Gray. "I have the money, so settle down. I was jus' playing with you, boy."
I sucked in air. Geezers like these drove me crazy. I sat down carefully, drinking more ale. Gray pulled out a small brown bag and jiggled it. The sound of coins clanging together inside was music to my ears. The deepest wish of my heart was just to have money. Enough money to travel to the orphanage in the kingdom of Highmeadow where I was brought up and bribe the matron, ask her about where I was from, who I was.
I reached for the bag, my fingers skimming the rough burlap fabric, and the Gray snatched it back.
I narrowed my eyes. "What are you doing?"
"You didn't think I was just gonna sit here and give away moneybags for free, did you?" Gray demanded.
I colored. That was exactly what I had thought.
"You have to do a little something for me first," whispered Gray. He put the moneybag back inside his cloak. He leaned forward, over his ale mug. "I want something. A prize. You get that for me, and I'll give you fifty times the gold coins that was in this tiny bag."
I swallowed. That was what I needed.
I tilted my head. "How will I know you'll keep your promise?" I demanded.
Gray held up his right hand. "I give you my word, boy."
I shook my head. "That's not enough. I want a blood promise."
To thieves and pirates and murderers and bad people like me, a blood promise was one of the biggest things. You cut yourself and rubbed your blood onto the paper to make the promise official.
Gray sighed. "You know your ways, Rider," he said calmly. "I'll make a blood promise."
I nodded, satisfied.
"And you too."
I was taken aback. "Me?"
"How will I know you won't just run off with the prize? You've got to promise too!" cried Gray, his ashy fingers twisting together like tumbleweed on the table's surface.
I gave in. "Fine."
I shoved the letter at Gray and handed him my dagger. Gray neatly sliced his palm and rubbed some blood onto the paper. "I promise," he said. "You bring me the prize, I'll give you fifty times what was in that money bag."
I nodded. Gray removed a piece of yellowed paper from the far reaches of his cloak and gave it to me, along with a pen borrowed from the matron of the tavern. "Write your promise and seal it," he told me, his dark eyes flickering impatiently from his sunken, wrinkled face.
I promise to bring you the prize you desire, as long as you give me the money you promised.
I shoved it at him.
"Good," said Gray. "Now the seal."
I cut my palm and placed it against the paper. A red smudge blended against the crinkly yellow color. I shoved it at Gray, my palm smarting and stinging. I stood and ran it under a leaky tap that was flooding water into a plastic red bucket.
That stung even more, but washed the blood away. I closed my hand into a fist and rolled my sleeves back down. "What's the prize?" I asked Gray, who was pulling his hood up over his thin face again.
He smiled, and I noticed he was missing several teeth. "Glad you asked, Rider," he told me. "An….acquaintance told me of her."
"An acquaintance."
"Her name is Gothel. I met her in this tavern the other day, and we were drinking. She was drunk, and told me about her rebellious daughter. A daughter with certain magical qualities about her."
"Magical…qualities." I was getting more and more doubtful of this old man's sanity.
"Magic hair that glows. When she sings," Gray told me with a grin.
I sighed. "Okay. So the girl is the prize?"
"Yes."
"What?!" I yelled.
Gray looked taken aback. "The girl is the prize. Her hair is worth a lot of money."
"Her hair? So cut it?"
Gray smiled. "Yes, but the girl is also valuable. I heard she's….beautiful…do you get my meaning? I want to raise her. I want her to be mine."
Gray's eyes gleamed.
I was taken aback. "I don't think this is the right thing to do."
"You're a thief aren't you?" snarled Gray. "So do what I ask! Besides, you promised with your blood."
I shook my head. "How the hell do you want me to bring her to you?"
"Anyway you want," said Gray, standing. "That's the fun of it, Rider."
"Can I have a picture or something?" I asked.
Gray shrugged. "Gothel didn't have a picture. But she said she was eighteen, with long blonde hair, big green eyes, and freckles on her nose. And she paints."
I shook my head. "How will I find her?"
Gray grinned. "That part is up to you, Rider."
Was I ready for this?
I walked to the Snuggly Duckling doors and pushed them open slowly, staring out at the moonlit night. I think I was. I needed the money anyway.
And she was a strange girl I had never even met. Why would it matter to me what happened to her?
I walked into the night.
A magical girl who's hair glows. When she sings.
Boy, was I gonna have fun now.