“Sunset? Why does everybody love sunset? Isn’t it a little trite?” I said. “How about when the birds stop singing for the night? When the campfire dies out? Nine hours?”
“Sunset!” Lutigan bellowed.
The god returned me to the world of man with such grim power that I fell off my horse.
Leddie laughed and pointed at me.
“Are you drunk?” Whistler stared at me, his chin up in disapproval.
“No, but I wish I was.” I stood and mounted. From the saddle, I examined the trail back down the slope toward Paikett, but I didn’t spot Pil. She had been gone all night and part of a day.
I could ride back to town and track Pil. A hard, two-hour ride would take me to the spot where I’d last seen her. I almost turned back and said to hell with our chase, at least for now. Then I realized that since Lutigan was trying to work through me, Pil was better off if she never saw me again.
I kicked my horse and rode on up the slope.
Leddie laughed again. “What, no smart remarks about drinking, or not drinking, or wishing you could watch somebody drink? Are you sick? Broken heart? Blisters on your asshole from the saddle?”
I ignored her.
That’s a lie. I pretended to ignore her while she didn’t shut up for the next ten minutes.
TWENTY-SEVEN
On the second day traveling west from Paikett, the road swung inland. We climbed several hundred feet through hills thick with rich, swaying trees. Cool rain soaked us most of the day. Fog sifted in whenever the rain stopped. We passed a dozen villages and one sizable town, full of people who seemed to prefer that strangers stay quiet and ride through fast.
About midday, five skinny bandits carrying clubs jumped out at us when we topped a rise. I killed two while the others were still shouting for us to throw down our weapons. After that affair, we pushed hard and made a cold, wet camp for the night.
The next day was sunny, still, and steamy, and we climbed through higher, sparser hills. By midday, I figured us to be ten miles inland. Three mountains had emerged from the fuzzy distance ahead of us. We saw plenty of villages, none of which seemed friendly or even interested enough to throw rocks at us.
Midafternoon arrived, and I hadn’t found anybody to kill yet. “I think I’ll ride ahead for a bit and contemplate our situation,” I announced. “Stay back here and don’t distract me.”
Leddie said something, but I ignored her as I kicked my horse into a gallop.
I outpaced the others by a mile, slowed to a trot, loosened my sword in the scabbard, and started singing like a drunkard. My wife had once said my singing voice sounded like a seal slammed between two boats, but I could be heard far off. I called up a memory and sang “The Whore Song,” written by a morose soldier named Ralt, who had died a thousand miles away from this steamy road.
I was hoping that a loud, drunk old man would attract a couple of bandits, or even a couple of greedy farmers with a mean streak. I was still waiting on such people to arrive when fast hoofbeats sounded from the trail behind me. Halla and the others were riding to overtake me, so I drew rein to wait.
Bea shouted at me before her horse had even halted. “You horrible liar! Killer! I’m sick just looking at you!”
“It seems bad, Bib,” Whistler said. “You’ve got to admit it does. Two people every day? If you can’t find two, are you going to kill us?”
Leddie frowned. “I don’t care how many you kill. Kill a thousand a day—I don’t care one bit. But you can’t hide this kind of crap from us.”
I raised my eyebrows at Halla.
“They deserved to know, so I told them,” Halla said.
I yelled, “Damn it, isn’t anybody even going to ask whether this is true? Am I just assumed guilty because Halla says so?”
After a pause, Whistler said, “Is it true?”
“Hell yes, it’s true! Not that it concerns any of you.”
Leddie, Bea, and Whistler started talking on top of each other.
“Hush!” I shouted. “How about if I promise not to kill any of you?”
Leddie snorted. “Speaking as an expert on dishonesty, your promise is worth less than a loose toenail.”
“It is not just our lives,” Halla said. “What if we need you, but you are away finding people to kill? What if we had been ambushed today while you were up here singing badly?”
I could have told them that I was obliged to do these killings because I chose to save Bea and Whistler from death. But that knowledge might not have swayed their feelings, and I preferred not to share details about my deals with the gods.
I met each of their eyes in turn. “So, you say I’m a bad dog and can’t be trusted. How do you suggest dealing with me? Not that I’m agreeing to anything. I’m just asking.”
Bea curled her lip. “We don’t need you anymore. Leddie knows where the children are, and she’s a soldier.”
Leddie beamed. “You sweet thing! I might lead you away into the bushes if the chance pops up. Don’t be stupid, though—we need all the swords we can get.”
Halla raised a hand. “Bib, swear that you will kill no one unless I agree.”
I pointed at her and laughed. “I’ll think about consulting you, if I have time. Unless somebody is already trying to poke us full of holes. In that case, I’ll kill them and worry later whether I hurt your feelings.”
Halla gritted her teeth. “Very well. Also, do not go away by yourself. Stay with the rest of us.”
“That sounds perfectly fair,” I said. “I wouldn’t argue against that.”
“Will you do it?”
“Maybe. Let’s find out.” I winked at her.
Halla gazed down at the dirt trail as she turned her horse to trot on uphill.
“Is that all?” Bea whipped her
