Harik wrinkled his forehead and frowned, allowing himself to appear less than ideally handsome. “Yes, fine, you made certain of that by poking through my book as if you were a jittery magpie. Now that you have called the Tooth, removing your memories of her would cost far too much.”
I couldn’t keep myself from perking up like a dog that saw a rabbit. “Cost too much? Why? Do you mean it would cost you something?”
Harik paused. His robe stopped swirling and fell straight with a soft whoosh. “No.”
“No, as in it would cost more than the right amount?”
Harik shook his head. “No. No, nothing.”
The gods had always acted as if they could just burp or wave their little finger to make things happen. For more complicated things, they may need to wave two or three fingers, but that was an annoyance to them, not an effort. Yet Harik had just implied that it cost a god something to make things happen, which I had never heard a god say before. “So, if it’s nothing, how could it cost far too much? ‘Too much’ doesn’t apply to nothing.”
Harik sighed. “Do you want to trade or not?”
I held up a hand. “Just a minute. I want to go back to where you said that removing my memories of Manon would cost too much.”
“I never said anything like that.”
“But—”
“Not at all.”
I stared at the God of Death, hoping he’d give away a little more.
Harik raised his voice. “And you can’t prove I did! I would be overjoyed to let you and all your pathetic friends die if you don’t want to trade.”
I figured that was as far as I could push him, but I intended to chat about it another day. “I do want to trade, Mighty Ball-Dangling God of Death. I ask that you extend an offer.”
Harik sat, leaned back, and crossed his legs at the ankles. “Finally. This will be severe, but you have earned it. For one square, you will kill ninety-nine people in the next seven days.”
“I congratulate you on making an offer that’s like a boot to the face. For six squares, I will steal Pil’s bow and burn it.”
The corners of Harik’s lips twitched up. “You will kill seventy people in the next seven days. Killing an innocent counts as two deaths. For one square.”
It was a ridiculous offer, but I couldn’t help asking the obvious question. “What do you mean by ‘innocent’?”
“A person not trying to harm you or your allies.”
“Bullshit! I don’t plan to kill innocent people for no reason at all. There are plenty of wicked bastards to kill for damn good reasons. For six squares, I won’t use a sword in my next two fights. Just a knife.”
“Murderer, are you approaching these negotiations seriously? That offer was ludicrous. I offer two squares if you kill seventy people in seven days, innocents count double. Before you answer, I assure you that either you will leave this negotiation obliged to kill more people, or you will leave with nothing. This is your punishment.”
That was a hell of a disappointment. Without power, Bea would die for sure. The rest of us would need awhile to heal, maybe weeks. Any hope of saving Bindle’s children would fade to nothing.
I didn’t know whether I could find seventy assholes deserving death in the next week, even if I applied myself with exceptional diligence. In my experience, about one in fifty people is a brute or villain, and that’s generous. If I traveled through populous lands, I might meet a few hundred people while chasing Memweck over the next week. Hell, maybe I’d catch the horrible horse’s ass himself before then and could make him part of the count.
“All right, Harik, you goat-faced son of your own whore sister, I’ll kill ten people in the next week, and to hell with killing innocent folks.”
“Grief has made you so much less interesting, Murderer. I will bend this much: kill fifty in the next week.”
“Fifteen!”
“Forty-nine.” Harik raised an eyebrow.
I sensed that the negotiation might be near disaster, at least for me. I decided to throw all my bait into the water at once to see what would bite. “Harik, I offer this: I will kill one person every day for the next week in exchange for five squares. I also want my numb hand fixed. Plus, I want you to tell me all about Memweck.”
Harik laughed, which put me on edge. “If you want to bargain with gusto, Murderer, I can oblige. Kill three people a day, innocents counting twice. I shall tell you three things about Memweck. I may as well, since you persist in hunting him, a self-destructive act if ever one existed. As for your hand—I prefer that curse remain as it is for now.”
I didn’t like the offer, but at least I was an expert on flushing out thieves and murderers. I had done it for weeks in Bindle. “Two people a day for two weeks in exchange for four squares and answers about Memweck.”
Harik sat forward, smiling. “Innocents count twice, and you must kill two people by sunset each day.”
I dropped the point of my sword and sighed. “Sunset and killing innocents? Do you want to add a girl in a magical coma and a singing fish to make this a little more mystically theatrical?”
Harik acted as if he hadn’t heard me. “Not two weeks. Your task shall continue until I say it has ended.”
“Damn you, Harik, and all nine of the babies you ate for breakfast! That’s too much.”
“Did you overlook the part where I said you are being punished?”
I was already killing people until he told me I could stop, so I supposed this deal wasn’t that much worse.
Harik crossed his arms again. “And the murders will not count toward those you already owe me.”
I realized that every objection I threw in would make things worse. No good deals were to be had, not
