'Witchery actually.'
'You're a witch?'
'The hat. The broom. The cloak. The talking duck. I expect it would be obvious. Well, perhaps not the duck.'
'Can I kill him now?' Newt asked.
'Hush.'
Pik, being unarmed and clearly overmatched, wasted not another moment. He ran away.
'Go get him, Newt. But don't kill him.'
The duck was disappointed but jumped from my arms and dashed after the bandit.
'Wud nu mine steppun uf mee node,' Gwurm requested.
'Oh. Terribly sorry.' I picked up the nose and dusted it off. I found one eye. It resembled a rotten, yellow grape. I wiped it clean with my cloak and stuck it and his nose back on his face. He wiggled the nose and blinked the eye.
I found the section of finger with the ring of servitude.
'It can't be removed until I'm dead.'
The enchantment on the ring was potent but sloppy. It had all the marks of shoddy commercial magic. A competent apprentice might crank out a dozen in under an hour to pay for his education. But such a flawed magic always has a loose thread, and I yanked on this one as an afterthought. The enchantment unraveled. The now ordinary ring slipped off the finger.
'Thank you. I can't tell you what a relief it is to be free of that. If I could trouble you for one last favor, might you help me locate my other eye. I can pull myself together eventually, but my eye is delicate. I'd hate to accidentally sit on it.'
By the time I'd returned the second eye to its socket, Newt reappeared. He was alone, head bowed. Blood dripped from his bill.
'Well?' I asked, already knowing the explanation.
'I . .. uh . . . sort of killed him.'
I shook my head and fixed him with a disappointed look.
'It wasn't my fault,' he protested. 'I was chasing after him, and I grabbed at him. Just so I could bring him back as you commanded. And his spine just sort of... came out.'
'They'll do that,' Gwurm said.
'See? It's almost like they were designed that way. He'll back me up, won't you?'
'It's very true. Men are rather fragile. Their heads practically fall off on their own, and their bones snap under any pressure at all.'
Newt kicked the dust. 'Sorry, mistress.'
'It's all right,' I replied, 'but you must be more careful. There will be more people in the future, and I would like some assurance that you won't kill them all.'
'I'll work on it.'
'You'll get the hang of it,' Gwurm reassured. 'I find it best to treat them as if they're made of dry straw.'
'I'll keep that in mind.'
The sun was below the treetops. Early dusk settled on the forest.
'Newt, fetch some firewood and something to eat. We're stopping for the night.'
He was so embarrassed by his spine-ripping blunder that he did so without uttering a single complaint.
I began the task of reassembling the troll. Given enough time, Gwurm could put himself back together, but that would take hours. I saw no reason he should suffer the indignity.
'You're too kind,' he said as I returned his head to his shoulders. 'I must say, you're being a very good sport about this.'
'It wasn't your fault.'
'Still, I did almost kill you.'
'I don't die that easily. No harm done.'
The hands were a difficult task. So many knuckles. I could have just thrown them together, but I wanted to do it right. The real trick was remembering that a troll's pinkie was longer than his ring finger.
After I'd finished his left arm, Gwurm was able to complete the rest on his own. Newt found enough wood for a small fire and a pair of rabbits for dinner. I spat on the wood, and it burned with a soft yellow flame. Then I sat by the fire and cleaned the rabbits. Another gift of my curse is that while my fingers are not clawed, I have a special knack for ripping flesh. I tossed Newt some intestines. He wolfed them down greedily.
'Your duck eats meat,' Gwurm observed.
I nibbled on a raw leg. 'As do I, but I think we have enough to share. Would you care for one?'
Newt perked up his head. 'Mistress?'
Gwurm held up his hands. 'I couldn't possibly...'
'Nonsense.' I tossed him the second rabbit. 'I insist.'
'If you insist.'
He chucked the entire rabbit into his mouth, chewed once, and swallowed. One of the mysteries of troll biology is how their food gets from their mouth to their unconnected stomachs. Even witches didn't know that.
Gwurm sat on the opposite side of the fire.
'So how did you come to such a fate?' I asked.
'Simple story really. Pik and I were friends. He found the rings, talked me into putting one on, and the next thing I know, I'm robbing and terrorizing the countryside.'
'What were you doing before that?'
'Robbing and terrorizing mostly I'd always done most of the terrorizing as I have a talent for it, but he handled the robbery end of things. Then came the rings, and he revealed himself for the shiftless sod he was. I'll miss him. He was my only friend.'
'Not much of one,' I remarked.
'True, but the best friend a troll could expect.'
We sat around the campfire and didn't speak much the rest of the night. Silence didn't bother me. I'd lived in isolation all my life, and Ghastly Edna had often gone weeks without saying hardly a word. We listened to the owls and the crickets, and I counted the stars while Gwurm stared into the flames.
Logically, the undead in me should have wanted to travel after dark, but I was more content to sit back and enjoy it. It always seemed to slip away faster when I walked. When I stood still, I could imagine it might last forever.
Gwurm stretched. The gaps in his joints showed just a bit. 'Falling apart always tires me out. Think I'll get some sleep. Good night.'
The troll hunched over in a tight ball of crossed limbs and stooped head. It looked uncomfortable, but he was already asleep. He snored softly.
' Why'd you feed him?' Newt said.
'He looked hungry, and it was the polite thing to do.'
'But the mistress warned you not to. Now we'll never get rid of him.'
'Who says I want to be rid of him?'
Newt's feathers ruffled. 'What?'
'He looked in need of a friend. Especially since you killed his last one.'
'You can't be serious.'
'Why not?'
'Are you blind? He's a troll.'
'And I'm a witch. And you're a duck.'
'Yes, yes, but . . .'
'Newt, are you jealous?'
He ruffled again.
I stroked the brown feathers down his back. 'You've nothing to worry about.'
'I'm not worried. And I'm not jealous.'
