Halla said, “There must be a code or obligation that binds you.”
The oracle tried to tug away from Halla again. “There is not. Nothing like that.”
Halla nodded. “Does fear of death bind you, then?”
The oracle sagged. “Fine, I’ll help you. I can see there are extraordinarily bad things happening. I want only one thing. After I’ve enlightened you, go away and never look for me again. In fact, if you see me someday buying kumquats in the marketplace, pretend we’ve never met.”
A minute later, Halla and I sat inside the oracle’s tent again. He sat with his jaw clenched and his eyes closed for a minute. “For one thing, your enemy is protected by divine magic.”
I considered that for a few seconds. “If he’s a god, then he’s a sorry specimen. He can’t even keep control of bugs.”
“Are you interested in my vision or not? I have a lion to recapture.”
Halla whacked my shoulder. “Yes, we are interested. Ignore him—he is stupid.”
“Your enemy isn’t a god, but he has access to divine magic. Just like you. And that’s what he wants.” The oracle pointed at me.
I touched the pouch inside my shirt, which contained a little magic book created by Harik, the God of Death. “Do you mean he wants this? This book?”
“I don’t see anything about a book. He wants to kill you, Bib. He wants it very badly.”
“Hell, what did I do?”
“The signs are unclear. Many people just want to kill you, though.”
I gaped. “That’s in the signs?”
“No, I can tell because I’ve spoken to you for fifteen minutes. Your enemy is to the north.”
I gazed at the tent’s northern side. I couldn’t help it. “North?”
“Sure, north. Farther than a mile. If you see ice, you’ve gone too far.”
“Nothing else?” Halla said.
“Nothing else. Now go away.”
EIGHT
When sorcerers bring a person back from the lip of death, they sometimes create a peculiar connection. Scholarly sorcerers have created a complex magical construct to explain this. They have given the phenomenon a pretentious name and written a couple of books about it. One of them is illustrated. I’ve never given a shit about any of that, because it neither prevented nor resolved the main problem.
When linked by this connection, the revived person becomes terrified that he will drop dead unless the sorcerer is touching him. It rarely occurs, and when it does, it usually fades within a day or two. I have experienced it a few times from the sorcerer’s side, and it never lasted more than two days. In one case, by the second day, the recently healed did not even need to touch me as long as I remained within six inches of him.
That illustrated book does document vanishingly rare cases of connections lasting longer than a few days. Strictly speaking, nobody had ever seen a permanent connection. Sorcerers have recorded a few connections that lasted, undiminished, until one of the parties died, but those could not technically be called permanent.
Once the oracle had dismissed us, Pil had not released me for even an instant. She preferred to hold my hand, but I could eventually convince her to hold on to my arm instead. Occasionally, she clamped my hand in both of hers, and to hell with what I wanted. She wouldn’t speak to anybody but me. She wouldn’t even say much to me and wouldn’t look me in the face. I had never experienced that behavior before, and it worried me.
Our connection would produce some interesting logistical consequences. Pil would be riding on my horse with me for a while, no doubt. Her home and family might be waiting just over a gentle rise, but if I went the other way, she would go the other way too.
When the oracle dismissed us, the sunset had faded to a few yellow strips of sky. None of us could stomach the idea of eating any food from the fairgrounds. Bea had snared two rabbits, and we ate them with some of our bread, which hadn’t gone too stale yet. Halla dug a piece of gristle out of her teeth with a thumbnail. “We cannot just ride north. It is foolish.”
“Hell, you’re the one who put so much faith in the oracle,” I said. “Are you changing your mind just because I agreed with you about listening to the lad? Dammit, you’re aggravating!”
“I am not changing my mind! I have not decided anything, so I can’t change my mind. Can I?” She threw a stick into the fire so hard it bounced out the other side.
“So, where do you want to go, you great monument to no fun?” I leaned toward Halla, and Pil pulled my hand back toward her.
“We will go to the Fat Shallows and scout. Bad people from everywhere can be found at the Fat Shallows. They know things.”
I sneered. “The Fat Shallows? It’s a shit pot with a couple of boats in it. I guess you want to catch mackerel, because that’s all it’s good for.”
“We cannot just get on our horses and ride north. It’s foolish.”
“Yes, we can! Watch me!” I laughed at her. “Whistler and Bea are coming with me. Pil is sure as hell coming with me. Take that, you oaf!”
“Oaf? Have you used up all your words?” Halla stood up. The poor light caused her head to fade into darkness, which made her seem about twelve feet tall.
“The oracle said north!” I yelled. “The oracle did not say go to the lousy Fat Shallows! And sit down. Looking up at you makes my neck hurt.” I chuckled, since I was kind of enjoying the argument.
Pil leaned close to me and whispered, “Isn’t Fat Shallows due north from here?”
I grinned and whispered back, “Oh, hell, I guess it is.”
“I heard that. Good!” Halla grunted. I had forgotten what fine hearing she possessed. She sat down with her back to me. “I am glad everyone agrees with me.”
She might have been smiling, at least a little.
