by Bill McCurry
I killed the last of the guards in front of me and bounded toward Ella and Vintan. Ella stabbed her attacker just as Vintan turned toward the side door. I was two steps away and saw anguish on his face. Then he yanked out a knife and cut Ella’s throat as he ran past her. I screamed for him not to do it, but that didn’t make him take it back. I screamed at her to stand up, but she collapsed anyway and lay beside Pres, blood spurting from her neck.
I had only seconds to help them and just enough power left to save one or the other, but not both. I blinked twice, grabbed Pres’s bloody sword off the floor, and lifted myself up to call Gorlana again. I tried to think of something to trade when I got there.
“Welcome, Murderer. You are unambiguously a man of surprises. I have found myself the tiniest bit nostalgic about our conversations. Even your insults.”
“Harik! You warped, venomous toad, I didn’t call for you! I don’t belong to any of you serpent-souled murderers, so pass me along to Gorlana.”
Pres had been carrying the stupid god-named sword, and I had picked it up. I imagined pulling it from the scabbard. The sunny, charming, achingly beautiful world appeared. Harik sat in the pavilion looking down on me. Gorlana sat next to him. Krak lounged in the center, a thundering dream of magnificence. Fingit and Lutigan perched on a higher tier. Three more gods sat around in the pavilion. I guessed them to be Cassarak, Weldt, and She-Who-May-Not-Be-Named.
“Gorlana? I think not,” Harik said. “This is something of a reunion for you and me. Let’s keep it between just the three of us.”
As he said it, Vintan materialized to my left.
Thirty-One
The first bargain I ever made with Harik was kind of pathetic. I wanted to pull all the poison out of a village’s well, along with the drowned pony that had fallen in and poisoned it. In exchange for the power, I promised Harik he could give me the runs at some inconvenient time in the future. Twice. I feel that set the tone for all our future bargains.
A smart sorcerer keeps power in reserve, and not just for emergencies. He keeps it so that when tragedy comes, and his need is profound, a god won’t be able to screw him like a water wheel for the power he’s just got to have right now.
I wasn’t a smart sorcerer the day my little girl was mutilated. I had just enough power in reserve to cure a bad cold, or to turn sleet into rain for an hour. Her mother found her by the stream just before midnight, nearly killed by wild dogs, which I’d always considered a mere nuisance. I went to Harik, who knew why I was there. He squeezed me dry that day, and I agreed to take an unknown number of lives for him, for which he gave me the power to save her.
A week later, I blamed Harik when my little girl fell and broke her neck. He must have known it would happen, and I needed to blame somebody. My wife needed to blame somebody too, and in her heart, she blamed me. She blamed me until the day she died, and I couldn’t say that she was unfair to do it.
So, when I found myself with Vintan, ready to trade in the Home of the Gods, I wished that I had come to the negotiations with a little more power in reserve. I did have a bit, at least, which was better than crawling in and begging for whatever gristle fell on the floor.
“Harik, do you mean that my friend Vintan is here again?” I would have loved to cut off Vintan’s head and make it into a flowerpot, but in that place, my sword was about as fatal as a hurled chipmunk. I put Ella and her cut throat out of my mind, gagged on my rage, and then shoved it down.
Vintan didn’t hold back. “Why couldn’t you die, you sack of filth? Or just escape, leave, run home? You forced me to kill him! You knew it was required of me, and you cracked on to rescue him anyway! Damn you to five kinds of rancid hell! I will see you skinned, soaked in salt water, and burned alive! He didn’t deserve that death.”
“Well, I didn’t know it meant that much to you, Vintan. Would it help if I said I’m sorry?”
Vintan roared at me. If I could keep him angry, I might come out of this ahead.
Harik said, “Gentlemen, let us focus now. You may exact vengeance when we are done here, when your actions will not concern me at all. Do you recall the terms of our prior encounter? The auction?”
“I remember,” Vintan said. “I want to purchase enough power to cause this snake to plummet a mile into the earth. Enough to make a mountain fall on him.”
“Well then, I hope that five squares will accomplish that, because five squares are at stake here.”
“That should be plenty for me,” I said. “I don’t even care about Vintan. He can take up painting and learn to play the double-flute, I don’t care. I just want to build a huge garden, sit in it, and drink wine all day. And entertain whores, of course.”
Gorlana said, “Harik, I didn’t think you were so clever. I thought you were dull, and I always have. But this is fun!”
Harik turned to Gorlana. “Just watch them tear at each other like rabid wolves.”
“Do the maggot-sucking little toads try to make offers that top one another?” Lutigan asked.
“Certainly! Of course, I guide them on the types of offers I would like.”
“Everybody shut up!” Krak said. “Let’s see this thing, and then go to the party. And it better not be boring.”
Harik looked at me. I gazed around so it wouldn’t be obvious that I could see them all. “Murderer, I direct you to make the first offer.”
My most recent experiences floated to the top. “I offer to spend another six months in the cell I just escaped from, starting in a week.”
A few gods nodded, but none looked impressed.
Harik said, “Thank you for a serious offer. Farmer?”
Vintan said, “I will leave the Denz Lands and never return. Starting in a week.”
“Well… even considering that few other lands would endure you, I will accept. Murderer, your opponent now leads. Just in case inspiration fails you, may I suggest dispensing with a few memories? Say, of your wife? After all, she is dead. She won’t pop up someday and be perturbed that you don’t remember her.”
I laughed. “Harik, that’s an entertaining suggestion. Instead, I offer a year in my old cell, to start in, yes, a week.”
“Boring!” Gorlana said.
“How did he become a sorcerer? He lacks imagination,” said She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
Harik said, “Unacceptable, Murderer. It’s no more than an elaboration, and unworthy of these proceedings.”
“Unworthy?” I sniggered extra loud for the benefit of all the other gods watching. “If the other gods could see you now, they might laugh, Harik. You’re just blundering around. Are you drunk? Are you preoccupied? Did someone—or something—break your heart this morning?”
A few gods giggled, and Harik hissed at them.
“A year in the cell,” I said. “And… Vintan, if you hold off and let me win, I’ll save the boy’s life when we’re done here.”
Harik took a step toward Vintan. “You shall not! Farmer, you may not simply surrender. That is beyond the bounds!” I had suspected Harik wouldn’t allow it, but trying hadn’t set me back. Harik turned to me. “Memories of your wife! That, or I declare the farmer victorious, your lover will die, and your foe will kill you. What good will those memories be then?”
Vintan stood clenching his fists, tears running down his face. I kept the anger out of my expression. “Very well, I make that offer—the memories of my wife.”
That sounded like a horrible offer, and it was. However, Vintan would probably kill me if I lost, so it came down to a simple, brutal question. If my offer were accepted, would my life still be worth living? If yes, then I could make the offer.
A couple of the gods nodded and grinned at me. Harik smiled like a soldier on payday. “Very good! Farmer, since the Murderer accepted my suggested offer, I expect you to do the same. I suggest, strongly, that you offer to lose one of your hands. You may choose which one. Come, you must agree that the irony of this is delicious. Be grateful that it’s not both hands.”
“Fine. I make that offer.” Vintan didn’t hesitate.
“Ah, you can force them to make whatever offer you want,” Fingit said, “but they push each other to accept higher and higher bids. It is clever. Sorry I doubted you.”
Harik laughed and gave a little bow.
I saw that Harik didn’t care as much about the value of the trade as he cared about looking good in front of the other gods. I tossed out something dramatic. “I’ll withhold the cure for Northmen fever. Thousands will die that otherwise would have been saved.”
All the gods nodded and murmured. Krak even smiled.
I was taking a calculated risk that Harik wouldn’t end up collecting on this offer. Just the fact that I had spoken it should be enough. It made him look better than a solid silver carriage full of whiskey. But he sure wouldn’t let Vintan concede after this flashy offer from me.
“A solid offer, Murderer. I don’t know why any of us ever said you were hard to work with.”
“I appreciate that, you son of the black drifting whores of the universe. And give my thanks to the other gods, those thugs, extortionists, patsies, con men, and morons.”
Sorcerers have a restricted set of pleasures. Hearing gods curse and grumble when you insult them is one of the best.
Harik said, “Droll. Farmer, may I suggest an offer for you to extend to me? You may of course refuse, but then you would be at the Murderer’s mercy, which I think we can all agree is ephemeral at best. You will carry the Northmen fever with you. The variety of fever that you spread will defy the cure and run its course without interference. You yourself will not be susceptible, but every person you meet will without fail contract it. For the rest of your life.”
Vintan looked down, his fist tapping against the side of his leg. “All right, I make that offer.”
Harik said, “Wonderful, that is a magnificent bid. Murderer, I can conceive of only one thing that might surpass it. You may extend your open-ended debt by a further unknown number of deaths.”
I almost laughed but then realized I couldn’t think of anything else to top Vintan. Nothing that I could live with. I sure as hell had proven over these past years that I could live with the debt, even though I had to work harder to enjoy living. Happiness is overrated anyway, and I had chosen this life for myself.
The gods were sitting around the pavilion smiling and sipping from gem-encrusted golden cups. Lutigan and Weldt were laughing out loud.
If Vintan beat me, I still might survive. I’m slippery, and I have escaped some bad situations. I didn’t know what time of day it might be. If it were nighttime in my world, and moonless, and Vintan slipped in the mud and broke his leg, I might even save Ella and bring her with me. It wasn’t impossible. Pres would be dead without doubt. That slit-faced bastard Vintan would live to create whatever misery he wanted. I’d have to run from him right away, too quickly to give Moris the cure for the fever. A lot of Denzmen would die without it, probably thousands.
It sounds unlike me, but that last factor is what decided me. I had killed a lot of people, and if I extended my debt, I’d kill a lot more. But those deaths would look like a speck beside the thousands of lives I could save by taking on the new debt.
“I offer to extend my open-ended debt.”
The ass-hanging shit-ball gods started applauding. May they be bashed in the tits by red-hot hammers in hell for all eternity.
“Farmer? I have an offer you may make to me.” Harik was almost giggling. “It is quite similar to the Murderer’s.” He looked at Gorlana and winked. “You may take on an open-ended debt as well. You will ever be compelled to find men to whom you can swear loyalty, and then you will betray them when it hurts them the most. You will owe me a number of such betrayals, and only I will know that number.”
Vintan stared off into nothingness, which was all he could see of course.
“Farmer, if you don’t make this offer, the Murderer will be victorious.”
Vintan stood silent for several more breaths and grew still. “No. I won’t do that. I would have nothing and be nothing. Life wouldn’t be worth living. Bib, thank you.”
“What the hell for?”
“For remaining faithful to the king when I could not. You served him better than I, but you forced me to become a traitor and to murder my friend. For that cruelty, I will kill you. Not today, since I must flee, but I will. I thirst to eradicate you from human memory. Harik, you treacherous creature, I am done.”
Vintan disappeared.
Gorlana said, “Harik, tell him. Tell him now!”
Harik nodded and waved at her. “Murderer, I think it only fair to offer you some reward for making such a fine agreement. You have increased your debt by a further unknown number of killings, so there’s no reason you can’t know how far away you were from fulfilling the original debt.”
I stopped. I swayed in place. “What?”
“Your original debt. If you had not extended your debt today, do you know how many more murders would have been required to retire the original debt and be free?”
I tried to make myself ask, but my throat locked shut.
“Seventeen.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes. Seventeen. Only seventeen more.” I managed a couple of deep breaths to keep from going insane.
All the gods were laughing as if it were the most hilarious joke in creation.
“Well done! You were almost there. Excellent job. And now, Murderer, your power awaits you.”
Harik slammed me back into my body.
I looked up and saw Vintan running out through the side door. Ella and Pres lay at my feet, their blood flowing.
I dropped the sword, slapped my left claw on Ella’s neck, and pulled enough bands to stop the bleeding. I pressed my right hand against the boy’s chest. He was almost gone. His wound had torn him up, a lot more than Ella’s had for her. As I pulled bands to fix things in his chest, a pain in my own chest started and grew worse. By the time he was safe from dying right away, spasms were making it hard for me to breathe.
I put the pain aside as much as I was able and turned back to Ella, and I did a better job on her throat. Pres’s severed arm was still bleeding, so I stopped that. A little more than a minute had passed since Vintan tore out of the room.
As I grabbed the sword and gathered myself to stand, Ella put her hand on my wrist. She opened her mouth, but only squeaks came out. Her eyes got big as she clamped onto my arm.
“Hush. I just got done sticking your head back on your neck. Well, a good part of it anyway, so rest yourself. You’ll feel a lot better in a few hours. Take a nap.” I kissed her forehead. “I’ve got to go kill Vintan.”
I winced as I stood up and my chest throbbed all the way to my heart. In comparison, I couldn’t even feel the pain in my throat from healing Ella.
“Stop!” Moris yelled from beside his chair. “What in the greasy perdition is happening here? You!” He pointed at me. “You’re the only one, the only one, who doesn’t look as confused as hell. What’s going on?”
“Vintan’s a traitor and a murdering piss pot. That about covers it. I’ll elaborate once I’ve killed him.” I nodded to Desh, who was standing beside me. “This is how to make the cure.” I told him the ingredients and the five steps to mix it up. “Give it to Moris. I know you won’t forget it, but write it down in case you get killed in the next thirty seconds.”
Desh nodded and knelt to check on Pres. Without looking up, he said, “Don’t be lazy and just kill the man. Bring him back to life and kill him two or three more times.”
“Stop!” Moris bellowed. “Guard, stop that man right there!”
“King Moris, you’re a nice fellow, but you haven’t been in charge since I walked in here.” I turned toward the door. “You can yell at me when I come back, or else when I’m dead.”
I coughed twice and knocked one guard on his ass on the way to the door. Once through it, I ran down a narrow hallway in the di
rection I’d seen Vintan scamper.
Thirty-Two
I’ve always considered myself fleet, but the swiftest person I ever met was a woman. I wished she were around now so she could chase Vintan for me. My time in the dungeon had cost me a step or two of speed, and I was clawing for breath through the pain in my chest. Less than a minute into the pursuit, I feared that catching him was a hopeless effort.
A few moments later, the floor slid out from under me as I stepped on paving stones that were balanced on the edge of a hidden pit. They failed to teeter into the gap evenly, and I pushed off one of the stones that stuck. I leaped across the opening and cleared the hole.
It was a sloppy trap, unworthy of an accomplished sorcerer, or even an accomplished hooligan. I admit it was deep enough that I couldn’t bounce right out of it, but at only six feet across, it showed that Vintan was just trying to slow me down. He was eager to get away rather than fight.
Or, maybe he wanted me to think that. I ached to run fast, chase him down, and slice his head off, and while I was dawdling here, he was getting away. When we’d been bargaining with Harik, Vintan told me he was going to flee. Now he held a big lead. The smart play for him was to escape and kill me another day when I wasn’t expecting him.
But why should he wait for another day? I wasn’t expecting him today.
Instead of running faster, I slowed to a trot and scanned every stone as if tigers might be hiding behind them. That turned out to be one of my better decisions of the afternoon.
The hallway crossed two intersections and dumped out into the middle of a larger passage. The other direction led deeper into the keep. To the right, I saw a small door leading into the castle yard, obscenely brilliant after all the months I’d spent underground. A soldier and two servants with hoes, maybe gardeners, were walking toward me. I couldn’t imagine Vintan running anywhere except outside. Either he was already gone, or he was hiding there preparing to kill me.