Death's Collector

by Bill McCurry

  “I shall wait with you then.”

  “If you dawdle, then your prince might get away.”

  She squeezed my good hand and smiled, which was a nice thing to see before I closed my eyes.

  Some time after my eyes closed, but before I was dead, I heard the word, “Murderer.” Something pulled me up into nothingness, and I found myself pain-free again. Right away, I imagined reaching for my sword, and then I imagined it still lying on Ella’s lap.

  “Hello, Murderer!” said Gorlana. “I heard you have some charming little thing I’d be interested in.”

  “Harik won’t mind us talking trades?”

  “Harik is… terribly busy just now. So, tell me! I’m breathless.”

  I was violating my “don’t make the first offer” rule, but I had already claimed to have something she’d like. “I believe you know Limnad, the Blue River spirit.”

  “Yes. I know that muculent whore.” She made it sound as wholesome as knowing a disease of the genitals.

  “I currently have her bound—”

  “I know, and I can’t even tell you how happy that makes me.”

  “I want four squares, and in exchange, I will never release her. I’ll keep her bound until I die or the world crumbles around me. Which would kill me, so I guess it’s the same thing, but that’s my offer.” I’d have to listen to Limnad’s abuse for the rest of my life, but at least I’d have the rest of my life.

  “Delicious. So tempting. Would you torment her frequently for me?”

  “She will weep at least twice a day,” I said.

  “In exchange for four squares? Hmm… no, not enough.”

  That was a hell of a disappointment. I had rarely failed when appealing to a god’s pettiness. “Do you have a counteroffer? Something you might like better?”

  “I believe I do, Murderer. I offer to enlighten you about something.”

  That put me in a grim situation. Offers to the gods follow a particular logic. Maybe you offer to do something you dislike, or not do something you’d like to do. Or you might be forced to do something bad, or prevented from doing something good. Something bad could happen to you, or fate could get kicked in the nuts, and a thing you would have cherished doesn’t happen after all.

  With some deals, precious knowledge or memories can disappear if you agree to it, the way Desh lost his mother. But the chanciest deal of all is gaining knowledge you might wish you didn’t know. With other types of trades, when you make the bargain, you have a decent idea of what you’re paying. When you agree to learn something, you can’t know ahead of time what you’ll find out.

  I said, “That seems a bit high for four squares. I’ll stick with keeping Limnad bound, and I’ll also offer that I won’t be able to find a pair of shoes that fit right for a year.”

  “Humph. I’m starting to get bored now. Take my offer or go back and die, which would be a shame since that cute young lady is a little smitten with you.”

  I’d just have to take the risk. “I understand, and on one condition, I will accept your offer. You give me Limnad’s birthright.”

  Gorlana smiled at the gazebo ceiling and stroked the necklace with both hands. “Hah! What would you do with it?”

  “I might use it to torment her. Tell her it’s right here in my hand, but she can’t get it because she’s all bound and pathetic. I might make her promise to do things on the chance I’d give it back to her, and then never give it to her no matter what she does.” Of course, those were just things that I might do. I could also choose to be nice and listen to her bitch.

  “That would be fun to watch. Very well, we have a deal. The power and the object will be waiting when you return.”

  “Mighty Gorlana, tell me what I must know.”

  “If you fail to provide Harik with murders fast enough, he causes you pain and sickness.”

  “Is that it? I know that already.”

  “Hush. You should know that the anticipation of killing, the pleasure, and the satisfaction—Harik has nothing to do with them. Those come from within you.”

  “What?”

  “You enjoy murder because you’re a murderer in your deepest heart. Harik doesn’t make you enjoy it.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

  “Listen then! You’re not a good man who kills because a god makes him like it. You’re a murderer, and you like to kill.”

  I was still shaking my head. “I don’t… what are you…”

  “Murderer, you rarely do anything you do not wish to do.”

  Then I understood.

  Having this knowledge was like standing under a cold waterfall. It beat down on me, soaked me, surrounded me, and separated me from everything I knew and had known. I couldn’t do anything except stand in it.

  “I understand that it hurts, but it really is something you should know. Goodbye, Murderer. I’m glad you’re not going to die yet.”

  I drifted down into a gentle reunion with my body, and I opened my eyes.

  Ella smiled again. “Do you want some water?”

  “No. I saw the gods.”

  She kissed my hand and then patted it. “That’s good.”

  “Wish I hadn’t. Wish I’d died sooner… shit.”

  “It’s all right,” she said.

  I tried to lift my right hand, but it just shook and laid there. I wheezed at Ella, “Put my right hand on my left ribs.”

  “Just lie still.”

  “Put my goddam hand on my ribs. Start healing there… put the hand there… can’t heal with my ear or my elbow…we’re all going to live… at least for a bit… after that, you bastards are on your own.”

  Sixteen

  My wife thought I was a pretty good fellow. She said so often, and she was an honest woman. She knew she had married a sorcerer, and she accepted it along with the craziness that comes with sorcery. She knew my work wasn’t all healing sick lambs and making flowers grow. When I came home wearing bloody clothes, she washed them and didn’t ask whether the blood was mine or somebody else’s. I might leave her alone for weeks and then just show up one night. Sometimes I brought along unannounced visitors. Occasionally, they were dying. A few might not have been strictly human.

  Lin thought I was a good fellow, but I don’t remember her saying why. She was a smart woman of high character and standards, and now I can’t think of a single thing about me that a woman like that would judge to be good. I’d like to ask her what she meant by “good,” but of course, she’s been dead for years. In more recent times, I’ve become acquainted with a few women of low character and lower standards, and they found my qualities to be perfectly good.

  I’m certain my wife would not have said that the willful enjoyment of killing human beings was a good quality in a husband. Nor was it a good quality to have in a friend, acquaintance, countryman, or anyone else you might ever meet. I had known for a fact that Harik caused my craving for murder and my satisfaction with the kill, but I’d been wrong. It was not a fact. He hadn’t caused them at all.

  I had caused them. So then, this was me.

  It took about an hour to heal everybody. I mended myself just enough to heal Ralt before he could fall over dead, and then I staggered to Stan before he bled out. Once no one was in danger of expiring right away, I finished healing myself, and then Desh. It was all uneventful as far as these things go, although I suspected Desh would never get over being embarrassed about the way I had to handle his private parts.

  I couldn’t remember ever feeling more exhausted. Besides that, my left arm and side felt like they’d been beaten with iron rods, a long, thin nail of pain seemed to have been driven into my shoulder, and I had what felt like a toothache in the entire left side of my head. My shin might have been attacked by terrified cats. My privates throbbed, and not in a good way.

  I reached for Ella’s head wound, but she caught my hand.

  “Stop that. I can see that it hurts you.”

  “One more pain
would be like throwing a rock into a canyon,” I said. “It wouldn’t make a difference.”

  Ella stood tall and waved me off. “All the same.”

  “Don’t be a suffering, heroic idiot. There’s no future in it. You don’t need to bleed and let your head hurt all day to make some kind of point.”

  Her eyes narrowed, which told me I’d said something insulting or ignorant.

  “I would prefer a journey to perdition.” She walked off toward Desh. I had been both insulting and ignorant, somehow. It didn’t seem that important in light of what Gorlana had told me.

  I needed sleep, but I had one more thing to do. I whispered, “Limnad, I want you.”

  The spirit rose out of the river and flowed up the rocks. “Thank you! You suffered almost to the point of death, and then brought yourself back. Now I can torture you all the way to the point of death again. It’s as if you have given me a gift. I’ve been asking other spirits to share with me their most inventive and horrific tortures. I will be ready when you release me!”

  “Would you like a gift, Limnad?”

  The spirit retreated halfway back to the riverbank. “Probably not.”

  I reached into my pouch and felt the silver and pearl necklace Gorlana had placed there. When I held it out, Limnad stop moving. Water that had been dripping from her body halted in midair, and her hair hovered slightly above her shoulders. “This is your birthright. I return it to you.”

  Limnad surged up the rocks, snatched the necklace, and whipped it around her neck. She scrutinized me while running her fingers over the pearls. “Sorcerer, how did you accomplish this?”

  “Limnad, I unbind you.” The yellow band around her neck melted away.

  The spirit rushed toward me like a wave, hurled me to the ground, and crouched over me with one palm on my chest. I heard Desh shouting, Ralt and Stan cursing, and Ella swearing like the sailors on my uncle Rori’s fishing boat.

  Releasing Limnad had been a calculated move. I had to release her someday, and she was never going to like me better than she liked me right then. And if I’m being totally honest here, I halfway hoped she’d just kill me.

  Limnad quivered like a lake in the rain. “Your heart is turned to ash, Bib. What did you pay for my birthright?”

  “Shit, my heart didn’t turn into ash. It’s still cheap whiskey and pig iron, like it’s always been.”

  A few seconds later, the damned river spirit started dripping tears on my throat. “Thank you, Bib.”

  I glanced around in case I still had to run. I feared that spirits might not possess an abundance of constancy. “Aren’t you mad that I bound you?”

  “No. If you hadn’t bound me, then you would never have sacrificed yourself for my birthright.”

  “What sacrifice?” Stan asked. “He’s lying right there, no guts hanging out or nothing, and in fact close to mingling naughties with a naked girl.”

  Limnad stepped back and helped me stand.

  “You’re not going to kill him?” Desh inquired.

  “Dammit, Desh, are you trying to goad her into it?” I picked up a rock and chucked it at him.

  “I will never kill what’s left of Bib.”

  Let me explain why Limnad was carrying on about all this “turning to ash” bullshit. I had brought her back a treasure, and I’d paid a price that I admit was tormenting me. Spirits possess no permanent body—they’re formed of thoughts, feelings, and memories. To her, the way I currently felt seemed as horrible as if my chest had been torn open and everything scooped out.

  “Well, this has all resolved itself in a fine manner,” said Ella. “The spirit may return to her river, and we may continue our pursuit.”

  I made the mistake of letting my head drop forward.

  Limnad said, “Bib must rest. He has killed a dozen men, had his body crushed, bargained with the gods—twice—had his heart destroyed to help everyone here, and healed all of you, for whom I would not give a dead rat under a pile of dead mice, all before midafternoon. Go on with your little chase. He is staying here. If you attempt to bring him with you, I will tie your arteries around your necks in charming designs.”

  I felt surprised that Limnad had become so protective, but I shouldn’t have. A spirit’s emotions tend to soar and crash as circumstances change. Now she wanted to protect me. There was nothing romantic or sexual about it. To get an idea of how she saw me, one might think about how they’d feel toward their idiot cousin who saved them from drowning but got his leg bitten off by a shark in the process.

  “Limnad, please leave off all this talk about sacrifice and destroyed hearts. And as a favor to me, please don’t hurt any of my friends here.”

  “If you wish. I am standing over you while you sleep, though.”

  “Wonderful.” I looked at Ella. “Just two hours of sleep.”

  She frowned but nodded.

  Fifteen seconds later, I was sleeping.

  Vintan had blocked the trail south with an attractive jumble of red, sandy rocks three men high. It ran from one steep hillside across to the other. To a horse, it might as well have been a thousand-foot-tall cliff. The river wasn’t running high enough to make the steep banks passable, and the banks ran like that for as far as I could see.

  This would have been a wonderful time to abandon Ella’s foolish and probably fatal rescue attempt. I could advise her to wait for the army, and then I’d head deeper into the Denz Lands with Desh and Limnad. I didn’t do that, though, partly because I found Ella’s company pleasant. Also, the fatal aspect of this venture didn’t sound especially awful right then.

  Ella caught my eye. “Can your river spirit transport our horses over the bank?”

  “Sure, if you want a bunch of terrified horses to kick themselves to death.”

  Ella gritted her teeth. “Are you certain? Will you ask her?”

  Before I turned to her, Limnad flowed across the trail toward Ella. “Why don’t you talk to me directly? Are you afraid of me?”

  “I see nothing of significance to fear,” Ella said, lifting her jaw.

  Limnad swirled all the way in a circle around Ella. “Then we should have a long conversation. I know some very good riddles.”

  Ella tried to glare at the moving spirit. “Will you answer me about the horses?”

  “Bib already answered you. Did you fail to perceive it? You must not be very bright.”

  “Do you always submit to men and let them speak for you?”

  Limnad turned to me. “I’d like to tie her intestines to her hands and feet, and then play with her like a puppet. Would you mind?”

  I had been wondering which one would create the least hell if I sided against her. “No, please don’t do that. I think we’ve established the answer, and we won’t be killing any horses today.”

  “Ella,” Desh said, sliding between her and Limnad. “I think I found the best place to climb over, but I’m not sure. Would you please come look?”

  I watched Ella walk away from probable death and realized that Desh had ended that fracas in a moderately elegant manner. I hadn’t credited him with that much awareness. Being a sorcerer might suit the boy after all, and I owed him a couple of drinks for ending that squabble, assuming we both lived.

  “Limnad, I would like to ask you a favor.”

  The spirit hadn’t strayed more than three feet from me since I woke up.

  “Desh is a new sorcerer, and I want to see him start off well. I taught him some fundamentals, but he still needs to learn just about everything that’s worth learning. It would ease my heart if he learns enough so that he doesn’t die in his first year. Would you please teach him about magic?”

  “If it helps you heal, I am happy to teach him. How harsh may I be when he does something wrong?”

  “Don’t damage him permanently and don’t do anything that will hurt for more than three days.”

  Limnad slid back several feet away from me and tilted her head. “You don’t seem to care whether he learns very quickly. I�
��ll do the best I can.”

  Now she was Desh’s problem instead of mine for a while. Most of being a sorcerer has nothing to do with magic. It has to do with being a sneaky son of a bitch.

  We scavenged food and water from the Denzmen’s saddlebags, then we unsaddled the horses and turned them loose. We scaled Vintan’s fine wall, although Ralt and Stan had to practically carry me over, since I was walking like I was eighty years old. Four hours lay between us and sunset, and six hours of walking lay between us and Vintan, or at least that’s how I figured it.

  Ralt and Desh helped me along while Ella led the way, but by dusk, I was walking steadily on my own. Still, I was lagging fifty paces when Ella spotted the pile of corpses. She waited until I caught up, and we walked closer together. What we’d first taken to be a pile of bodies turned out instead to be a neat stack of bodies. I counted thirty-two corpses wrapped in nice cotton sheets, and based on the thick, sweet, gamy smell, some had been there at least a week.

  “What in the goat-grabbing hell?” Ralt stumbled back three steps, saw me looking at him, and stood up tall but quivering.

  “I seen this before,” said Stan. “Traitors. Slaughter a boatload and pile ’em up—makes a better example than one or two mangled ones stuck up on poles. This says, ‘We kill so many of these bastards we can’t even bury them or burn them, so don’t try to poison the king or anything.’”

  “It seems a fanciful explanation, Stan, but I cannot think of a more likely one. Not yet.” Ella straightened her shoulders.

  “Let’s keep going then,” I said. “Watch out for… anything that looks like it might kill us and stack our bodies.”

  A few minutes down the road, I saw candlelight or lamplight ahead. It stood out because the trees were few and small. We hiked on toward the lights, and soon the sketchy outlines of a couple dozen little buildings appeared.

  “We should go around,” I whispered.

  Ella whispered back, “No, they may know something that would help us.”

  Stan slipped on an uneven rock, and his chain shirt clinked as he caught himself.