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.”