I didn’t care what they thought or did, so long as they took us to Paikett and went away. We ruled out sailing to Sububb, and a ferocious, hour-long argument between Halla, Bea, Whistler, and me had led to that decision. Physical violence was only employed once to emphasize a point. Pil stood back and giggled at us once in a while. After we decided our destination and then huffed away from each other, Whistler spent several minutes glaring and muttering. At least the argument had been something interesting to do for an hour instead of sitting around bored.
During the evening, after the spirits released us, we caught up on sleep and rested the cuts, bruises, and strains we had endured in the past week. Conversations tended to deal in practicalities or superficialities. Unless one chased three or four people to another part of the ship, privacy was as scarce as a tortoise.
The next morning, springtime handed us another beautiful day for our journey. I sharpened my knife early and tried not to stare at Dab and Wentl, whom I would be murdering before sunset. During the crossing, they had been inept sailors but had caused no one grief. I felt a tithe of misgiving about executing them, but they had tried to kill me in Fat Shallows. I preferred not to murder two other members of the crew just so that Dab and Wentl could live.
As the sun passed midday, I sat with my back against the damp timbers of the ship’s side, my eyes closed under the warm sun and my hand on my sword. Somebody walked up, putting me in their shadow. I opened my eyes just as Pil threw down a slim dagger, embedding its point in the deck a foot from me.
I didn’t twitch. “If you want me to kill somebody for you, don’t make me reach for the weapon. I’m tired. Put it in my hand for me.” I closed my eyes.
Pil squatted and slapped my leg. “Get up and move around some, or you’re going to get fat—but not on this food, I guess. I wouldn’t feed it to a rat on a pile of crap, or even to my brother. Get up anyway—it’s the polite thing to do when a lady comes to visit you.”
I sighed and stood up.
“Krak and Fingit, bring the dagger with you!” Pil stepped back, almost trampling Whistler’s hand. “I can’t believe I have to tell you that. If I wanted to be the one holding it, I never would have thrown it down there next to you, would I?”
I bent over.
“With your left hand!”
I shook my head at her upside down, pulled the dagger out with my numb left hand, and stood facing her. “I can’t wait to see what you have me do next. This is better than a village dance.” I yawned.
“Be nice—this is a present.”
Whistler grunted. “That’s not much of a present. It looks just like the daggers those paid killers carried.”
“Be quiet!” Pil narrowed her eyes at Whistler. “It can be a present and be stolen from a dead person too, and don’t argue about it—that’s how a lot of presents throughout history happened.” She turned back to me. “Swing it around, really, really fast.”
I grinned. “It’ll slip out, and I’ll throw your present right into the ocean. Or into the back of Halla’s skull.”
“I stole two more exactly like it, so if you lose this one, you can have one of those. And Halla can take care of herself.”
I shook my head and started to tell her how foolish this all was, but she cut me off.
“Swing that weapon!”
Facing out toward the ocean, I cut at the air as hard and fast as I could. I swung three more times. The dagger stayed in my numb hand, and my grip seemed snug. I examined the knife and saw that the once-rounded wooden grip had been carved down to a shaft with seven sides.
“It won’t come out of your hand unless you want it to,” Pil said, smiling a little. “I mean, it probably won’t. I haven’t tested it under all possible conditions, but it should stay unless you do something crazy with it.”
“Thank you, Pil, an enchanted weapon is always a handy thing. What kinds of crazy things should I avoid doing with it?”
She bit her lip for a second. “I don’t know, really. At the very least, don’t stab any stone walls or let anyone try to pull it out of your hand.” She reached to give me a blood-stained sheath for it.
Pil had spent some of her power to create that enchantment for me, and I couldn’t guess what that power had cost her. She seemed a little brisker to me than she had yesterday, or maybe even harsher. “Pil, thank you, thank you sincerely. This is a kind gesture and may help me at a difficult time.” I smiled with as much gratitude as I felt, which was a lot. I had been taught the importance of a sorcerer acting stern and aloof lest he show an enemy some weakness. I had thrown that rule into the ditch as I was walking out the temple gate, along with a number of other boring lessons.
She patted my numb arm, almost as if I were a dog. “I know you may be killed, and you probably will be, but we don’t have to make it easy for whomever does it. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. Bib, thank you for helping me.”
I nodded in acknowledgment. “I try to be nice to other sorcerers. Most of them. Well, hell, I kill them as often as not, but I admit being partial to you.”
Pil bit her lip again. “I don’t intend to go off and die with you. When we dock, I’ll buy a horse and
