father had said that all Mujar did was loaf around, pick through garbage and beg on street corners. This one had been going somewhere when she had trapped him, however, in the shape of a daltar eagle. Perhaps she should ask him. What harm could that do?
Talsy approached the Mujar, stepping over his legs. Crouching, she grasped his chin and turned his head, brushing away the hair that hid his face. She found his helplessness, coupled with his perfection, poignant. To her surprise, his eyes opened, but they merely gazed through her, glazed and unfocussed, before drifting closed again. She patted his cheek, but that only evoked a slight jerk of his neck muscles.
Talsy touched the rope around his neck. A pulse beat under it, yet he had not breathed for a week. Her fingers found the knot, and she paused. What if he fought? He was strong enough to kill her with a blow even if he could not use his powers. Resolutely, she undid the knot, her stomach clenched with trepidation and excitement. She pulled the rope away from his neck without removing the noose, so she could pull it tight again if necessary.
The Mujar raised his head and inhaled like a man who had held his breath for far too long. He opened his eyes and focussed on her, then his hands flashed up to grip her wrists in a painful hold, making her gasp. In a reaction that seemed to be instinctive rather than premeditated, he thrust her away. She held onto the rope, which tightened around his throat. He slumped, releasing her. Her heart pounding, she paused to recover from her shock and pluck up sufficient courage to loosen the rope again. The Mujar raised his head and opened his eyes again to gaze at her.
'I want to let you go,' she said, scouring her mind for the right words. 'But if I do, you owe me, right?'
He nodded.
Talsy licked her lips. 'I want you to take me with you, wherever you're going. I want you to stay with me, protect me.' She hesitated. 'You'll bond with me for your lifetime, or until I release you. And… you'll obey me.'
'No.'
She stared at him, dumbfounded. Did he not understand the consequences of his refusal? How could he say no? 'My father will throw you in the Pit if I don't set you free.'
He nodded.
'You want to be free, don't you?'
He nodded again.
'So do as I say.'
'No.'
She bit her lip, trying to think of a better bargain. Perhaps her offer was too harsh. 'Okay, just… be my friend. Help me whenever I need it and do as I ask, as if you still owed me another Wish.'
'Endless Wishes.'
'Yes.'
'No.'
She groaned. 'Damn it, do you want to go to the Pit?'
'No.'
'Then give me your word, and I'll let you go.'
'No.'
Talsy pulled the rope tight, and he slumped. Jumping up, she paced the room in a quandary. She had not expected him to refuse her offer of freedom with a few strings attached. Perhaps her father was right. There was no way to bind a Mujar and force him to do anything he did not want to do. Yet there had to be. If she was going to escape the life of drudgery her father planned for her, she must find a way to bind the Mujar. For the moment, however, she was stumped.
No solution came to her before her father returned, so at dinner she questioned him again.
'Papa, tell me more about Mujar.'
Borak paused in his chewing to contemplate her. 'You're not getting attached to him, are you?'
'Of course not. He's just a thing that sits in the corner. How can anyone get attached to that?'
Borak glanced at the Mujar. 'Well, I've pretty much told you everything I know, lass.'
'You said that the hill clans sometimes bond with Mujar.'
'Yes, it's a sort of mutual thing. Food and shelter for work. Mujar are quite content to spend their lives in drudgery.'
Talsy frowned. 'But I thought freedom was important to them.'
'It is.' Borak wiped a dribble of gravy from his beard. 'The bond is only for as long as the Mujar wishes it, you see. They're free to leave any time they want, so they haven't given up their freedom. They value comfort, as they call it. Food, shelter, clothes. They don't need them, they just enjoy them. Try to make them do something, and they're gone.'
Talsy pushed a chunk of meat around her plate. 'So it's more like a bargain, not a bond.'
'Oh, it's definitely a bond, make no mistake. A Mujar will fight for his clan, if asked to, and a clan that a Mujar protects is very safe.'
She looked up in surprise. 'But you said they won't kill.'
'No, they don't need to.' Borak sighed at the confusion in his daughter's eyes. 'You have no idea of the power a Mujar wields. He controls the elements. He can surround his village in a wall of fire twenty feet high and sustain it until the threat goes away. He can make the wind blow so hard the enemy can't make headway against, or he could part the earth and make an impassable crevasse. He doesn't need to kill. That's why it's such a waste that these soulless beggars have so much power.'
'So they can't be forced, but they can be bribed?'
Borak smiled and shook his head. 'Not really. They think differently to us. If you offered a Mujar two years of comfort to protect your village from a marauding clan, he'd just turn into a bird and fly away. That would be bribery. It doesn't work. Only if he feels he owes you a favour will he do it. So, a Mujar lives with a clan for two years, does his work and gets his comforts. Then a marauding tribe comes along, and the elders ask him for protection. The Mujar will grant it and protect the clan. There's a subtle difference, do you see it?'
Talsy nodded. 'Yes. You have to earn their favours. You can't buy them.'
'That's it.'
'It's almost like… they're the masters and we're the slaves. If they feel we've been good they'll reward us.'
Borak grunted, looking annoyed. 'You could say that. Only the hill clans make those kinds of bonds, probably because they have no pride.'
'But they do get a lot in return. Almost like having a pet god.'
Borak banged on the table, making the crockery jump. 'They're not gods! Don't go getting any ideas like that! They're useless bastards!'
'Only because they won't let us use them.'
He glared at her. 'Anyone who licks the arse of a Mujar isn't fit to be called a Trueman. They have no pride! No emotions! They're damned indestructible scum!'
'But they rule the world.'
'They don't rule anything! They sit around doing absolutely nothing all their lives. They don't have a will of their own, and no one can inflict his will on them.'
Talsy concentrated on her food, losing interest in the discussion. She had her answer, although it did not please her. Borak scowled at her, clearly annoyed. Her withdrawal from the conversation had left him in the lurch just as he warmed to his subject. She finished her meal in silence, unwilling to continue the dispute.
Talsy gazed out of the window, chewing her lip. Her father climbed into the cart while the skinny pony stood patiently between the shafts. Two weeks had passed, and at last Borak was going to the village again for supplies and to chat to his cronies in the tavern. She had endured the wait with well-concealed impatience. Her father only left the house to hunt, but then she had to go with him. She recalled the day they had hunted a bog boar, leaving early in the morning. To hunt such a dangerous animal required a bit of ingenuity, and a long forgotten, but clever hunter had come up with a fairly safe method. It involved building a rude platform in a tree beside a bog boar trail. A barbed harpoon attached to a strong rope was then tied to the base of the tree.
The hunter waited on the platform for several freezing hours until a bog boar wandered past. Then he had to throw the harpoon accurately enough to impale the animal so the barbs found purchase in its flesh. After that, all he
