“Bullshit! A stubby little domov? They hide spoons and turn up the corners of rugs!”
“All of these spirits arrived when you did.”
I grasped the hilt of my sword. “Shut up! Just shut up!”
Halla shuffled three steps away and cocked her head at me.
“No plain hearth spirit can haunt like I’ve been haunted!” My jaw was hurting, and I tried to relax it.
“Bib, I am not lying to you.” Her voice was even, but her forehead furrowed.
I stopped facing her. The anger washed out of me like rainwater. “So . . . that’s why old women sneer at me and little boys pee on my house. They all hate me. I guess they should too. You’re not making this shit up?”
“Oh, she’s not knitting excrement. She knows about these things!” A man’s bouncy voice came from down the lane. Nothing stood there except for an upended barrel and a graying hound that lolled its tongue at me.
I glanced at Halla. “Spirit?”
Halla peered past me. “Your fault, then.”
“Like hell!”
The hound said, “Don’t bother fighting unless you’re going to kill each other! Dismembering would be better.” The beast’s mouth moved, and a perfect human voice came out. Perfect if one liked the sound of jovial assholes.
I faced the dog but didn’t know what to do after that. I could kill it, listen to it, go buy it a beer, or walk away. No action seemed more promising than the others.
The hound saved me from needing to decide. “I saw you sitting here and couldn’t resist chatting and then whacking you around. Sorcerers have been so scarce! You, little person, pay attention to great, hulking Halla. Her hokkat slithered all over this horrid town and told her what it knew. All over town—it was a notable event, like a birthday party. At least I noticed.”
A hokkat was another kind of spirit. “Halla, what does the dog mean?”
Halla shook her head. “It is lying.”
The dog yawned at Halla. “Your hokkat is a boy, did you know that?”
Halla stared, her face like a block of slate.
The dog said, “Well, he is! You should find him something to screw right away. He’s frustrated, I can tell. It shouldn’t be hard—they aren’t fastidious. A she wolf bound to a linden tree under a full moon. That’s traditional, if you care about tradition. You sorcerers tend toward the iconoclastic, I know. If you don’t want to go to the trouble, perhaps he can mount an old boot or something.”
I ground my teeth. “What hokkat?”
Halla said, “Do not believe it. You should listen to me instead of the talking dog.”
The hound sat on its haunches and looked from one of us to the other.
Halla scrutinized the dog. “Are you one of the gods?”
“Do you want a bone?” I added.
Halla gave me a slow stare.
The dog laughed and wagged its tail. “Bless you for the compliment, but no, I’m not a god. Nor do I want a bone. Pay attention to me now!” The beast swung its head and hit me on the back of my thumb with a flying string of slobber. “Now, little person, decide which half of this town will be destroyed. Hurry and tell me—it’s going to happen in a few minutes.”
I didn’t decide anything, and I didn’t tell the creature anything, either. I drew my sword, leaped forward, and thrust my blade right into the air where the dog’s head had been an instant before. I thrust again, and it dodged. I slashed, but the hound slipped away as easily as if I were tossing baskets of flowers at it. Halla threw a knife, but the dog shrugged out of the way. The hound landed with a gentle bounce, its tongue hanging out the side of its mouth.
I pulled a sliver of my magical power out of the air and threw a yellow band around the creature’s neck. The thing wasn’t a spirit; it was a possessed beast with no name of its own. I didn’t need to know anything about it to bind it. The yellow band touched the dog’s loose neck skin and crumbled to drift away like fog.
I glanced at Halla. “Can’t bind it. Do you have any ideas?”
“You are the smart one.”
“Krak and all his whores!” I yelled at her.
The dog laughed, rolled over, and wiggled like we’d just tickled its belly.
Halla spun and picked up the barrel like it was a serving platter. I thrust at the dog again, and it dodged, but Halla was already running toward it. As she slammed the barrel down, the dog shot out from under it and sprinted right between us. It stopped a few paces down the lane and began cleaning its rectum.
After a few seconds, the beast said, “Huh. Won’t try that again. Hail the mighty sorcerers! That was entertaining. Don’t be shy, it really was! You almost touched me. To reward your valor, I have decided not to destroy half of this squalid habitation. So, have good cheer! Lie with your women, or your men if you wish. You won! I will destroy only one house.” The creature sagged, turned in a circle like a regular old unpossessed dog, and lay down on the mud to sleep.
I stood over the thing, not sure what to do. “You wad of rat guts! Go away, and don’t come back!”
The dog raised its head again to stare at me. “Oh, no. You shouldn’t have said that.”
Halla smacked me on the arm hard enough to bruise.
The dog tilted its head at Halla. “Charming damsel, I am entertaining your boys so sweetly. I anticipate a fratricide soon.” It turned its head toward me. “And who are you?”
I sure as hell wasn’t going to give it my name. “I’m Paul, the town burgher.”
“You’re so funny! I love it! No, you’re . . . the Murderer?” After a pause, it laughed. “You’re the Murderer! Oh, how things have changed.
