“No,” Halla said. “I can prevent him from following us if I break his legs. It will only delay him for twenty minutes, though.”
I felt pretty frisky about Halla recognizing that she couldn’t force me to be her version of good. I smiled about it for a while and even thought about singing some more just to aggravate everybody. But by late in the day, no bandits had run out to rob and kill me, and no mean farmers had, either.
The village I spotted threw long, end-of-day shadows. It smelled like soup cooking, with a hint of dung to fertilize whatever food they grew to put in soup. A few people carried out domestic tasks among the two dozen plastered daub and wattle buildings. Most residents were probably still in the fields planting, which was a shame. I had less than an hour to find two of them who ought to be dead.
I turned off the road and cantered toward the village. Bea and Leddie shouted at me, but I felt sure they’d follow. At the edge of town, I dismounted and shouted, “Does this nasty, rat-dick place have a name?”
A few people, mostly women wearing plain, undyed clothes, ran out to gape at me. Nobody answered.
“Does it have a name? Or do people call it That Place You Throw Turds at as You Ride By?”
Several women, children, and older men appeared but kept far back from me.
That discouraged me. I had hoped to attract a couple of cruel bastards such as you’d find in any human habitation in the world. I handed my sword to Halla so I’d appear less fearsome. “Well?” I shouted.
A black-haired young woman with a strong chin and a straight nose mumbled, “Segg.”
“What? Segg?” I bellowed. “What a horrible name. I wouldn’t name a dead slug Segg. Who gives the orders in the undoubtedly diseased village of Segg?”
Everybody stared at a clean-shaven old man who was hanging back. He blushed and stared at the ground.
I walked around a little, stomping my feet. “Damn! Is there anybody here who might be able to speak words that sound kind of like orders?”
A few more women and children crept around the corners of the closer buildings. Nobody answered me. The sun was falling like it was a stone I had pitched into a lake.
My insults hadn’t called out any of the nasty sorts. I lowered my voice to a more reasonable tone. “Look here, I want to talk to the men of this place, particularly the ones whom everybody hates. The ones who steal from their neighbors, or hurt their children, or molest women. You know who I mean. I want to talk to them. Bring them here.” I pulled out the gold lump. “Tell them about this gold.”
The black-haired young woman crossed her arms as if she was cold. “I’m sorry. Our men are gone to war. We’ll try to help—just don’t hurt anybody.”
I have killed men and women who were wicked but probably didn’t deserve death. I must have killed fine people in combat—honest, generous folks who loved their families. I have killed innocents who should not have died, who were certainly better people than me.
I could kill a couple of these poor Segg folk to honor my debt to Harik. It wouldn’t have been the worst thing I had done, or even close. I had to kill, and these people had to die sometime. But on that day, I didn’t think I could make myself walk up to that young woman and cut her throat. I told myself it was because killing her was exactly the kind of thing Harik hoped I would do. So, I wouldn’t do it. It would be like poking him in the eye.
When I reached up to take my sword from Halla, the villagers scurried back, and several ran away. I lifted myself to call on Harik, who didn’t dawdle about answering me.
“Just select two and kill them, Murderer,” Harik said. “Don’t complicate it. Your intellect is too feeble for deliberations.”
I imagined drawing my sword. Harik sat halfway up the gazebo, leaning back. He might have been twiddling his thumbs, but he stopped an instant after my sight cleared.
“Mighty Harik, those puny specimens are unworthy of a debt to your noble self. Instead of staining my sword with their pathetic blood, how about I kill four right deadly bastards in your name tomorrow?”
“That was not our bargain.”
“Yes, I understand that’s true, but I don’t want to waste effort killing sad people whose deaths could only offend you.”
“Offend me? Pray, did you say, ‘Offend me’? As if the virtual athenaeum of abuse and slander you have offered me over the years was not intended to offend? If you have no spine for killing today and wish to kill tomorrow, I shall allow that. You may kill four tomorrow, but I shall select which four people you kill.”
“Mighty Harik, you waddling turd, I can’t accept that. But I will slay eight people tomorrow, if I choose the people.”
“Eight? Inadequate in every respect. Unless we also say that if you fall short, you shall make up the deficit by killing people I select for a week.” Harik stood. “Further, let us say that this is my only offer. Take it, or go home and slaughter some squalid peasants right now.”
I wavered, changing my mind five times in as many seconds. “I accept, you runny ass-biscuit.”
Harik hurled me back into my body.
I staggered, turned away from Segg, and mounted my horse. “Somebody ride in some direction so I can follow you.”
Bea glowered at me. “Aren’t you going to kill them?”
I didn’t look at her. “I cast a spell on the village. As soon as we ride over the hill, everybody will fall down dead and swell up like a sausage.”
“You’re a monster. Filth and a monster,” Bea said.
“He did not do that,” Halla said. “There is no
