"What kind of clauses?" I frowned.
"Well, that the employer has the right to set my pay scale is the biggest one I remember. ‘... According to the need of the community,' and they pointed out that with no feud, my workload, and therefore my pay, should be reduced accordingly. Then there's the ‘No Quit' clause ..."
"The what?"
"The ‘No Quit' clause. In short, it says that they can fire me, but I can't quit for the duration of my contract. If I leave, I have to pay my replacement, ‘sub-contractor' I think they call it, myself... even if they pay him more than they were paying me. That's why I'm stuck here. I can't afford to quit. By the time I got done deducting someone else's wages out of whatever I was earning on my new job, I'd be making even less than I am now. I can't believe I could land a position making more than double what I'm currently earning. Not with my track record."
For a moment I thought Skeeve was going to offer him a position with our company, but instead he groaned and hid his face in his hands.
"Quigley! How could you sign a contract with those kind of terms in it? Heck, how could you sign any contract without knowing for sure what was in it?"
"Frankly, I was so happy to find work at all I didn't think to ask many questions."
"... There's also the minor fact," I put in, "that when he was getting started in this game, he was all alone. He didn't have a teacher or a bunch of friends to look over his contracts or warn him off bad deals."
It was getting harder and harder to keep the Kid from getting too intolerant of other people's mistakes. Even that not-too-subtle admonishment only had partial success.
"Well, he could have asked me," he grumbled. "I could have at least spotted the major gaffes."
"As I recall," I tried again, staring at the ceiling, "at the time you were working as the Court Magician at Possiltum... without any kind of written agreement at all. Would you have come to you for contract advice?"
"All right, all right. I hear you, Aahz. So what is it you want me to do, Quigley?"
I caught the use of "me" instead of "us," but let it go for the time being.
"Well, it's a little late, but I'd like to take you up on your offer. I was hoping you could look over the contract and see if there's a way out of it. My time is almost up, but I'm afraid they're going to exercise their renewal option and I'll be stuck here for another three years."
"Don't tell me, let me guess," I winced. "It's their option whether or not to renew your contract. You have no say in the matter. Right?"
"Right. How did you know?"
"Lucky guess. I figured it went nicely with the ‘No Quit' clause. And I thought slavery had been outlawed... ."
"Just exactly what are your duties these days, Quigley?"
Skeeve had been maintaining a thoughtful silence on the sofa until he interrupted me with his question.
"Not much, really," Quigley admitted. "More entertainment than anything else. As a matter of fact, I'm going to have to be leaving soon. I'm due to put on an appearance at the game this afternoon."
"The game?" I said. "They're still playing that?"
"Oh, certainly. It's still the major activity for entertainment and betting around here. They just don't play it for the Trophy, is all. It's been a much less emotional game since you guys trounced the locals, but they still get pretty worked up over it. I'll be putting on the after-game entertainment. Nothing much, just a few ..."
I glanced at him when he failed to finish his sentence, only to discover he was snoring quietly in his chair, sound asleep. Puzzled, I shifted my gaze to Skeeve.
"Sleep spell," he said with a wink. "I figured it was only appropriate. After all, I learned that spell on our last trip here after our friend here used it on Tananda."
"Don't you want to hear more about the contract we're supposed to be breaking for him, or at least take a look at it?"
"Don't need to. I've already heard enough to rough out a plan."
"... And that is... ?"
His smile broadened.
"I'll give you a hint."
His features seemed to melt and shift... and I was looking at the "old man" disguise Quigley favored for his work.
"We don't want two Quigleys attending the game, do we? The way I see it, the best way to get him out of the contract is to take his place this afternoon." I didn't like the sound of that.
"You're going to get him fired? Isn't that a bit drastic? I mean, how's it going to look on his resume?"
"Look, Aahz," he snarled. "I was the one who wanted to take the easy out and buy him out of his troubles. Remember? You're the one who said there had to be another way. Well, I've got another way. Now are you coming, or do you just want me to tell you how it went after it's over?"
The stadium was impressive no matter how you looked at it. Of course, any time you get nearly 100,000 people together all screaming for blood, it's bound to be impressive. I was just glad that this time they weren't screaming for our blood.
There was one bad moment, though. It seems that Quigley/Skeeve as a City-State Official got in free, whereas I, in disguise as an ordinary Joe, had to get a ticket to get past the fences. This was well and good, except that it meant we were separated for a bit. During that time, it suddenly dawned on me that if Skeeve got a little lax or wandered out of range, my disguise spell would disappear, revealing my true identity. As one of the team that trounced the locals and made off with their beloved Trophy, it occurred to me that there could be healthier pastimes than being suddenly exposed in the middle of thousands of hopped-up Game fans. Fortunately, I never had to find out for sure. Skeeve loitered about until I gained admission, and we pushed on together. It did give me pause, however, to realize how much I had grown to depend on the Kid's skills since losing my own powers.
Quigley/Skeeve was apparently well known, and many of the fans called to him as we entered the stadium proper. The salutations, however, were less than complimentary. "Quigley! How's it going, you old fart?" "Hey, Quigley! Are you going to do the same trick again?" "Yeah! Maybe you can get it right this time!" Each of these catcalls was, of course, accompanied by the proper "Haw, haw, haw!" brays, as can only be managed by fans who have started drinking days before in preparation for their role in the game. Maybe Quigley was used to this treatment, but it had been a long time since anyone had spoken to the Great Skeeve like that, and I noticed a dangerous glint developing in his eye that boded ill for whoever he finally decided to focus his demonstration on.
The game itself was actually rather enjoyable. It was a lot more fun to watch when we weren't the ones getting our brains beaten out on the field. I found myself cheering for the occasional outstanding play and hooting the rare intervention of the officials, along with the rest of the crazed mob.
Quigley/Skeeve, on the other hand, maintained an ominous silence. I found this to be increasingly unnerving as the afternoon wore on. I knew him well enough to tell he was planning something. What I didn't know were the specifics of "what" and "when." Finally, as the end of the game loomed close, I could contain myself no-longer.
"Say, uh, Skeeve," I said, leaning close so he could hear me over the din of the crowd. "Have you got your plan worked out?"
He nodded without taking his eyes off the field.
"Mind telling me about it?"
"Well, remember how I got fired from Possiltum?" he said, glancing around to see if anyone was eavesdropping.