Death's Collector

by Bill McCurry

  On the twenty-eighth day, we netted a normal haul, and that continued for a week. My father didn’t scowl. He had convinced himself that I was a lucky charm.

  My father dropped all of his fish-selling profits into a pouch he hung from his neck, deep and safe under his shirt and waistcoat. Then we walked three days to the magnificent city of Empter. You could have squeezed a dozen Empters into the castle yard of the Eastern Gateway, but back then, its magnificence astounded me.

  Evidently, my father had visited Empter before, because he led me right to a dinky, whitewashed wooden building. Inside, men were throwing dice, and I still don’t remember the rules of that game. I know that high totals were better than low. When the turn came around to my father, he rolled a three, the lowest possible score. Everyone laughed except him.

  My father tossed thirty-seven threes in a row. Before he finished, two fights started over whether the dice were crooked, but no one could find an imperfection in them. I think he lost every coin. I know he never spoke during the walk home.

  A week later, lightning hit our boathouse and burned it to ash. Lightning struck the same spot at the same time every night for the next ten nights. Our neighbors had begun muttering and giving me wry looks. I overheard the priest saying nasty things about me.

  My father and I left town again, this time in a different direction, and we walked four days to a remote gaggle of stone buildings. He had brought me to the closest temple for help, or maybe he wanted to leave me there to burn down their shit for a while. The master explained that often a young person’s first sign that they are a sorcerer is the utter demolition of the laws of probability. He and my father agreed that until I learned to control this phenomenon, everyone would be safer if I stayed at the temple.

  My father gripped my shoulder with his veined, cracked hand and said, “Don’t let your feet stay wet. Dry them every night.” That was his last advice to me, since I never saw home again.

  Vintan’s soldiers dragged me up the last step to the keep’s top floor, and one of my stumps banged against the stone wall. I considered reaching for that power to gut probability. It’s rare for a sorcerer to find that wild power they had as a child. Even if they did find it, they’d be as likely to get something that would destroy them as help them, so few sorcerers ever try, no matter how desperate. I decided against taking the chance.

  Vintan unlocked a wooden door in the hallway, and the soldiers pitched me through it. The locked grate shut, and I yelled at the door, “I hope the king kills you, you package of dog knockers!” It was a weak effort, but my stumps had smacked into the stone floor and were starting to throb.

  A man asked, “What did you do to the viscount?”

  I sat back on my heels to stand. A middle-aged, potbellied fellow with long, gray-brown hair had spoken. He was leaning against one undecorated stone wall of this large square room.

  I said, “Nothing. I’ve never seen the man. Is he ugly?”

  “Like a pig’s crotch. I am Sir Tobbart, sharing this spartan cell with you. Please do explain why you’ve been imprisoned. I could say first, but it would be dishonorable.”

  “I am Bib.” Two more men stood on the other side of the room. One was a gargantuan, black-haired young man, staring at me with his hand over his mouth. The other, a red-bearded and shaggy man in his prime, was gazing out the long, barred window and ignoring me. “I’ve been thrown in here with you fellows because I can’t juggle, and I frighten dogs and children.”

  “Really?” the big man mumbled.

  “I’d swear to it, but…” I held up a stump.

  The big man nodded. “I’m Glek.”

  Tobbart said, “Gramercy, sir. The viscount put me here because I stared at his wife’s tits too long. I hadn’t seen anything posted about the acceptable number of seconds for staring at her tits. The bastard wouldn’t specify, either. Just tossed me in here. Glek?”

  “I wrote the history of Eastern Gateway,” he murmured.

  “Something in it the viscount didn’t like?”

  Glek nodded and cleared his throat. “His family hasn’t ruled here twelve generations like he says. Not even four. His grandfather wasn’t a soldier, musician, and architect, either.” He shook his head. “Sold slaves, burned towns, killed both his brothers. Poisoned the old viscount, drowned the wife and baby…” He trailed off.

  I said, “Was Vintan’s grandfather slithering around here back then? Maybe he did some of the burning and poisoning.”

  “Vintan.” Glek shuddered.

  Tobbart made a peasant sign to ward away evil.

  I smiled at them. “Don’t worry. I’ll kill him soon.”

  Tobbart looked at my wrists and pursed his lips.

  Glek shrugged. “Got to get out first.”

  I nodded toward the window-gazing man.

  Tobbart said, “We don’t know who he is or why he’s here. Never speaks. He sleeps, eats, exercises, and looks out that window.”

  “Did he grow that whole beard in here?”

  “I don’t know that, either. He and his beard were here when I arrived. That was five years ago. And none of the guards knows anything about him, either.”

  “Well, I’ll just jump right on the main question then,” I said. “Does anybody ever get out of here?”

  Glek nodded.

  Tobbart said, “I’ve seen it happen twice. One dead and one alive. I’ve only been here five years, you understand.”

  A grate in the bottom of the door rattled. Someone shoved in four bowls holding some sort of stew that didn’t seem repulsive if you didn’t look too hard. A chunk of black bread lay in each bowl.

  I stopped. If I wanted to get much food inside me, I’d require help. Tobbart seemed friendlier, but maybe Glek was more pliable. I looked around just as Glek punched me in the eye.

  I staggered across the room, and then took stock. Glek was winding up for another punch. Two bowls were stashed in the corner behind him, and two still sat on the floor by the grate. Tobbart crouched in another corner with no food.

  I dodged Glek’s punch as well as the follow-up. My canvas shoes made lousy weapons for kicking. I knocked the dolt’s legs out from under him instead. I knelt and aimed my elbow, eager for the crunch of his neck breaking. Instead of killing him, I said, “You nasty slice of ass crust!” and popped him in the throat with my elbow, not too hard. He gagged for a few seconds and began coughing.

  “What in the flame-farting hell was that?” I yelled.

  “That was marvelous!” Tobbart said. “Maybe you really can kill Vintan. I thought you were just insane.”

  “Answer me! Speak!”

  “Oh, Glek takes all the food for the middle meal each day. Done it for years. I’ve tried to stop him, but my fighting days are past.”

  “He can just cut that crap out now,” I said. “Serve out the food. If he comes up for another try, I’ll see that he’s the third one who gets out of here, and not alive.”

  When Glek sat up, he wasn’t punching. He looked down. “Sorry.”

  “Krak damn your whole manhood, you’d better be sorry!” I nodded at the two bowls in the corner behind him. “There, since I’m a skinny old thing and you’re the size of a catapult, you can have mine once a day, but not the others. Understand?”

  He nodded, and some seconds later, he was sitting in a corner eating both portions.

  Since I wasn’t burdened by any nourishment, I looked out through the barred window. It ran the entire length of the room. I could see a third of the castle yard and even a slice of the world beyond the outer wall.

  A less frantic corner of the castle yard snagged my attention. It was off to my right, and my fine eyesight picked out Ella and Pres right away. They were ambling back and forth in the small area, talking. Well, the prince was flinging his hands around like he might be shouting. Ella nodded or shook her head now and then.

  “Tobbart, come over here.”

  “Why?”

  “Take off my shoes.”

&n
bsp; He stared at me for a moment before he bent and pulled off both of my off-white canvas shoes.

  “Do you see that little corner with two people in it?” He nodded. “You’re going to throw one of those shoes as far toward that corner as you can. When the people look up, you’re going to wave the other shoe at them like it was covered with spiders.”

  “If this is the beginning of an escape plan, I predict it will end in tragedy.”

  “Then you can write a play about it and be famous. Throw.”

  Tobbart hurled the shoe an impressive distance considering he hadn’t picked up anything heavier than a bowl in five years. However, neither Ella nor Pres saw it.

  “I’ll try again.”

  “Wait!”

  He heaved the second shoe even farther. Ella’s head whipped, and she pointed at the spot where it landed.

  “Pull off my shirt! Pull off my shirt! Hurry up, you pokey old bastard! Now wave it at them!”

  Both Ella and Pres were scanning the side of the keep. Pres saw the shirt first and pointed. I shoved both arms as far as I could through the bars and waved my stumps around. Ella stared at us for about ten seconds before she made a couple of big, slow nods. They returned to their conversation. Now they were both waving their hands around.

  “That’s enough, Tobbart, cover up my nakedness, will you? Thanks for helping out, and I’m sorry about calling you a bastard.”

  “Don’t be concerned. Glek has no more than a childish understanding of profanity. It was nice to be insulted in a manly fashion.”

  Once I was clothed again, I watched Ella and Pres walk for a minute. I hoped they’d get busy planning our escape. I didn’t have any ideas better than letting lightning strike the same place eleven times.

  Twenty-Seven

  I soon understood why the nameless prisoner stared out the window all day. After spending two hours with Tobbart and Glek, I wanted them to fall in a river, or maybe get eaten by pigs. They fought like children about such things as which of the cooks must have made the stew, why Glek’s left sleeve was more faded than his right, whether or not they would die if they tried to escape with me, whether Glek had a gray hair, the definition of extirpate, and the suspicious nature of Tobbart’s bowel movements.

  “This room is at the top of the keep and we can look out.” Tobbart guided me to the window and told me this during a truce with Glek. “That’s why they call us Crows, do you see?”

  I took to staring out the window with the Nameless One, trying to ignore the others. Since we lacked both rivers and pigs, I began wishing a stone would fall out of the ceiling and crush one of them. Either one would be fine. I decided not to kill them myself—Tobbart had been feeding me, and I might starve if I pissed one off by killing the other. If the universe decided to smudge one of them out of existence, that would be good enough. If not, well, I’d lived through worse.

  The second day passed in a similarly awful fashion. Standing at the window, I whispered to the Nameless One, “Let’s trade. I’ll hurt both of them a lot if you promise to feed me.” I had thought I might get a little grin or something from him, but he never twitched.

  The Glass army arrived the next day. I could see a bit of territory beyond the wall, and columns of marching men began filling up that area just after dawn. By the end of the day, they had blossomed into pitched tents and campfires. Tobbart and Glek watched them all day with me, their squabbles forgotten. Glek thought they might rescue us. Tobbart said they’d probably make us slaves.

  Our cell contained six pallets that had been worn out by some unascertained number of backsides over the last century or so. The first evening, I kicked one of them over beside the door and slept there. In the morning, I kicked it back to the wall. No one commented. It wasn’t notable behavior in a room of transfixed men and suspicious bowel movements.

  I slept with my head almost touching the door. On the fourth night, I woke up and heard a whisper, someone in the hallway saying “Bib!” through the grate.

  “Ella?” I whispered.

  “Were you anticipating another visitor this evening?”

  “You’re too late. When you didn’t show up two days ago, I made a deal with Vintan. I’ll marry his ugly sister, and in exchange, she’ll feed me and dress me.”

  “Be serious. A guard may arrive any moment!”

  “Darling, I am jailed by my enemies, I’ve been dismembered, and I’m mashing the side of my face against a sticky, centuries-old floor. That’s serious enough.”

  “Be still and listen! The siege is underway. Moris claims he shall wait within the castle until the besiegers either starve or freeze to death. I worry that the King of Glass has brought an insufficient force. Everyone here expresses faith in certain victory for the Denzmen. I suppose that’s normal, but they seem astoundingly confident. I believe we should flee before Pres’s father abandons the field. What is your plan?”

  That was disappointing. “I’m facing exceptional disadvantages. The worst one is that my knowledge of this castle is tinier than a banker’s heart. I wish I knew somebody who could wander around wherever they want. They’d probably know enough by now to have come up with a damned plan.”

  Ella took a long pause. “I should just leave you in there.”

  “Who would keep your ego in check?”

  “Fine. I deferred to your claim to be a superlative planner, but I see that was mere bluster. I will create a map of the keep and return tomorrow. This cell stands at the loftiest spot, and the stairs are well-traveled. That may be our most significant obstacle. I anticipated a larger presence of soldiers on the lowest floor, but Moris evidently expects his fighting men to be out fighting, or at least preparing to fight.”

  “That’s all helpful knowledge, and thank you.”

  “I’m going now. I will—”

  “You!” yelled a nasal-voiced man. “Stand up there!”

  Ella said, “I am so grateful you have arrived, sir. I dropped my necklace—terribly valuable. Could you please help me search?”

  “My wife thinks I’m dim, but I’m not that stupid,” said a second man, with a gravelly voice.

  “All right, you have found me out,” Ella said. “My sweetheart and I are to rendezvous here, as it’s so quiet and unobtrusive. I admit embarrassment at being discovered.”

  “Bullshit,” said Gravel Voice.

  Nasal Voice said, “Anybody who’s here is doing something wrong.”

  “I am profoundly sorry. I will immediately present myself to the captain for whatever punishment he decrees.” After a pause, Ella said, “Remove your hand! The captain will know about this impropriety!”

  A slow, deep voice came from down the hall somewhere. “What in Gorlana’s flaming slit is going on here?”

  Nasal Voice said, “We found this spy, Sergeant.”

  “I assure you I am not a spy!”

  Nasal Voice said, “You got no good reason to be up here, the Glass bastards are besieging us, and you can’t lie any better than my baby niece, so you are a goddamn spy. It stands to reason.”

  “Wait, maybe we should take her to Captain,” Gravel Voice said.

  “You’re right, we will,” said the sergeant. “After she answers some questions for me.”

  “I am governess to Prince Prestwick. I will accompany you to the captain, but you will not lay hands upon me.”

  “Shut it! Come here!” Nasal Voice said. One of them snorted, and another laughed.

  I heard a fist hit a soft spot on a body.

  Gravel Voice said, “Bitch! Tit-flopping sow of a whore!”

  “Stand aside!” Ella said. Another fist smacked into what sounded like a face, and a man groaned. Another fist pounded, probably a belly since I heard, “Oof!” Two solid punches and a kick came close together, and a body slammed against the door.

  Ella said, “Stop!”

  Nasal Voice said, “Shut up, you gangly slut!” Another punch.

  I hammered the door from my side and yelled at them to stop. After a
few more blows, Ella groaned and said something. She started with, “Stop,” but I couldn’t understand the rest.

  They didn’t stop. I lifted myself to ask Harik, then Gorlana, then Krak and Fingit and Lutigan to trade with me, just in case there was some way to perform even one feat without hands. They all ignored me. I tried to wreck probability, like I had when I was a boy. All I got was a faint buzzing on the ends of my stumps.

  I screamed at the bastards that I’d tear their nasty balls off, that they were ass-scraping, hash-nosed cowards, knobby little turds, that I’d keep them alive to torture forever.

  A body thumped against the floor. Ella moaned as they started kicking her. I don’t remember just how long that went on, but they kept kicking her until she wasn’t whimpering anymore.

  Gravel Voice said, “Lost her necklace!” All three of the sons of bitches laughed as they dragged her scraping down the hallway toward the stairs.

  I sat with my back against the door. I couldn’t remember feeling so helpless since I was a child. Glek and Tobbart had walked over to listen to the fun and now they stared at me, fidgeting.

  I stood up. “Boys, I’m getting out of this room. If either of you don’t want to help, tell me now. I’ll go ahead and kill you and get it out of the way.”

  Over the next twelve days, we created and then threw away eight escape plans. We produced creative ideas, and Tobbart contributed in unexpectedly inventive ways. But we abandoned every plan because we didn’t have a damned thing to work with. Somehow, pallets, bowls, stew, bread, buckets of shit, and clothes proved inadequate materials for an escape. The boys’ enthusiasm grew limp a couple of times, but they perked right up when threatened with death.

  I kept on sleeping next to the door, hoping that Ella might have recovered enough to walk. I also hoped she had the good sense to stay away from my cell. If she appeared, I wanted to be right there handy to tell her to get the hell out. So, twelve days after Ella’s beating, I awoke because someone whispered my name from the grate.