The Genie Who Lost Her Lamp

Chapter 3: Blood Pact

The woman seemed shocked. No one had ever agreed to come with her. Her eyes widened and she almost felt moved to tears. "Really? You're not lying, are you?" The woman said, slamming her hand against the table.

Ali shook his head, gulping. Was this a smart choice? Probably not. But Ali was tired of wandering around, helpless, scraping up the last of his money to get some food. His clothes were permanently soaked with dust and sand, and his hands were rough and not delicate as they used to be. The man was tired of being treated a nobody, as his kingdom slowly descended into chaos under its new ruler.

Just the thought of the man sitting where his father used to sit made his blood boil. His eyes ignited with a passion that he thought had died a long time ago. He stood up, the chair clattering to the floor. "I'm coming with you. And I'm not pulling back," Ali hissed, the idea of revenge bursting inside him.

The woman seemed pleased at this sudden outburst. She was worried that this man was just a bland no-one that was simply seduced by her story, but it seemed he really desired something. The woman wondered what it was, but they had only just met. She couldn't ask him that. "Perfect," she grinned, clapping her hands together. "We need to sign a contract. Something that will bind us," the woman said. I've been tricked far too many times, she added in her mind.

Ali nodded, not scared of signing anything. He was a man of his word. "Of course. Does anyone have a quill?" He asked, looking around at the people around them. Everyone shook their head, raising their hands as if to prove they had nothing.

"I don't want paper," the woman said, her voice low.

Ali turned around, confusion painting his face. "No paper? How are we supposed to sign...?" He slowly trailed off as he saw the woman hold a very sharp-looking dagger in her hand.

"A blood pact. These are harder to break. And if one of us betrays the other, we can go to a السحرة (alsahara or witch) to get them cursed," the woman said, her eyes dark. This woman wasn't a newbie at this, it was clear.

"A blood pact," Ali mumbled, trying to remember what he had read about them. The two people would cut their palms, making sure to draw blood. Then a handshake would be given, making sure to mix the blood. Then two small, glass vails were filled. One drop of blood in each. Then, the vails were exchanged, so the vail with their blood was given to the other. The possession of someone's blood was very important, as one of them could take the drop of blood to a witch and get them cursed. Each of them was holding the other's blood, meaning they had a way to end the other. This led to trust, since if one was harmed, the other would suffer a horrible death.

Whoever signed a blood pact held a dagger to their partner's back, but another one was pressed against their own. What better way to keep a promise?

"Are you scared, boy?" A man sneered from behind him. Ali turned around, glaring at the faceless person, hiding in between people to protect himself.

"No, I'm taking this to the very end. Someone give me that dagger," he snapped, sick and tired of being doubted. The woman stepped closer, throwing it in the air, and catching it with the blade in her hand, so the handle was towards him. Ali took the dagger, holding it steadily. His breath started to become labored, his mind clouding with thoughts. "No...this is exactly what father said. I think too much." And with that, he sliced his palm, letting the blood start to drip out from the cut.

A murmur ran through the crowd: they weren't expecting him to actually do it. The woman had her doubts as well, but when the blade sliced his skin, she knew he was a brave one. "Great...now, my turn," the woman said.

Ali was about to hand her the dagger when he realized that she had it already. Strange, he didn't remember giving it to her. Maybe he was too nervous.

The woman looked at him, grinning, her eyes twinkling, before she sliced her palm as well. Her skin was pale...very pale, Ali noticed. Was she even from here? It didn't look like it. The blood seemed redder against her skin.

Ali stepped closer, holding out his bleeding hand. "I, Ali Hamadani, swear to keep my promise as long as my blood runs through my veins," he stated, loudly and clearly. Some people murmured in the crowd, his last name familiar to their ears. Ali ignored them, asking indifferent.

The woman looked at him, lifting her hand and wrapping it around his. Her hand was cold. They both winced as their opened wounds touched one another. The blood dripped faster, now mixed. "I, Idris Al'Tinnin, swear to keep my promise as long as my blood runs through my veins," the woman, Idris said.

The bar keeper walked closer, holding two small glass vials.The two loosened the grip on the other's hand, holding their hands on the glass vails. Ali's blood dripped in one of them, followed quickly by Idris'. The vails were sealed shut with some cork and exchanged.

Ali looked down at the red blood inside the glass.

The two were bound together now.