At last, Fingit said, “Well, that was a kick-in-the-groin, huh?”
Sakaj nodded.
“I guess you’ve got a lot of work to do, since you owe the Nub power every day.”
She nodded again.
“Whatever it is you want, I’m not helping you. Take your dog and go home.”
“Thank you for my dog.” Fingit heard the smile in her voice. “She’s beautiful.”
“Stop that. Don’t be nice. It doesn’t suit you.”
Sakaj knelt and put her arms around the dog’s neck. The animal panted, wagged its tail, and wiggled in happiness. “You know, we’re the only two beings in existence who have ever elevated Krak. You’ve elevated him more than once.”
Fingit halted with a stomp. “No! No talk about elevating Krak! I’ll remind you that he now knows how to destroy insolent gods forever.”
“I’m not saying we should really kill him permanently! It’s just… interesting that it can be done. Of course, you were only able to elevate old, degenerate, insane Krak. Elevating mighty Krak is probably impossible. Killing him must be impossible beyond doubt.”
“Well… probably. I guess nothing’s totally impossible. But shut up about it!”
“Right! Silly of me. Just as an intellectual exercise, what would it take?”
Fingit laughed. “You can’t stop, can you? Do you think I’m stupid? You can’t use me anymore.”
Sakaj stood and sighed. “I guess you’re right. You must already have lots of fascinating problems to solve. I’m sorry. I’ll fetch you a drink to apologize.”
“Fine. Just one. A small one.”
Sakaj took Fingit’s hand in one of hers, and she petted her dog with the other. Then she led them both through the trees toward the Sun Soul Pavilion.
Fingit chuckled. I can’t believe she’d try to fool me again. She must think I’m an idiot. She’s the one who’s transparent now. I’m glad she likes the dog, though.
Damn, it is an interesting problem. What would it take to really kill Krak?
Have you read Death’s Collector?
Cursed to take lives for the God of Death. Sorcerers must give up things and people they love, or accept things they despise, to gain magical power. The sorcerer Bib saves his daughter by accepting a curse to murder people, and only Death knows how many Bib must kill. He tries to slay only evil people, but soon finds he’s also killing people who are merely bad, or who might someday become bad. Bib chases a brutal sorcerer to help a woman rescue her boy, mainly because he expects a lot of killing. But he doesn’t expect to unearth obscure magic, enslave spiteful supernatural beings, and strike ghastly bargains with the childish gods. And the last thing he expects is to face the question—is he a good man cursed to crave murder, or has he always been a murderer at heart?
Read the Death-Cursed Wizard Book 1 now:
https://tinyurl.com/y36t2ryt
About the Author
Bill McCurry holds a Bachelor of Arts in Sociology and a Master of Arts in Sociology from the University of Texas at Arlington. He is one of seven people known to have secured a non-academic job using a sociology degree. Bill’s short story “The Santa Fix” was published by Open Heart Publishing’s anthology An Honest Lie: Volume 3. He has performed and taught improv and interactive theater for over twenty years. During his career, Bill has owned a small construction company, run market research projects, managed customer service groups, and developed computer systems as a contractor for the National Cancer Institute. He is currently writing his seventh novel, Death’s Least Favorite Toy. Bill grew up in Fort Worth, Texas, and now lives in Carrollton, Texas, with his wife, Kathleen, an independent court reporter who is so keenly determined that she would always be able to kill him if it came to a knife fight.
Connect with the Author
bill-mccurry.com
Twitter.com/BillMcCurry
Goodreads.com/author/show/5427659
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Amazon.com/Bill-McCurry/e/B0068PO2AA
