Shockingly, my lips worked. “If you don’t want to fix my arm, how about helping me raise the dead?”
Harik paused and then pursed his lips. “You cannot bring back the Tooth.”
“It’s impossible?” I creaked through the agony.
“You cannot bring back the Tooth.”
“I heard . . . I heard . . .” I hoped he’d be curious enough about what I had heard that he’d take his damn thumb off my chest.
“What did you hear?” Harik lifted his thumb, and the searing pain faded. I could breathe again and even wiggle a finger or two.
“I heard it’s been done.”
The thumb connected with my chest again.
I squeaked, “Lutigan did it behind your back!” It was the stupidest form of a lie, based on guesswork and gall. Any detail would be as likely to shatter it as support it.
The thumb lifted again. “Who did he supposedly raise?”
“That’s all I know! Sakaj told me!” Harik’s sister, Sakaj, despised him and would lie to him about anything. He couldn’t believe her—or disbelieve her—no matter what she said.
Harik stood and stepped back up into the gazebo where he sat on the bottom bench and clasped his fingers. “You are almost certainly lying to me, but I have in the past discovered . . . never mind. I must not act precipitously simply because you are an infuriating, yammering smear of filth. You can still serve me.”
“I’d rather lick warm shrimp off the beach, Mighty Harik.” It wouldn’t do to act like I was afraid of him.
Harik ignored my comment. “You must, however, put the Tooth out of your thoughts. Even better, make yourself of use and trade your memories of the Tooth to me. On any other day, you would be correct not to trust me, but I am not attempting to deceive you now. Give her up, or your grief will kill you. Observe how you unwisely allowed that man who stabbed you to live.”
I sat up and clambered to my feet with the grace of a newborn rhino. “Your Magnificence, where should I start? You admit I shouldn’t trust you, and then you tell me to trust you. Should I give up the idea of bringing her back, or the memory of her, or my grief over her, or the memory of the grief, or the idea of the memory? Shit . . . I got lost. Just assume I want her back. Since you didn’t deny that you could make that happen, how would we do it?”
“I will not assist you,” Harik said, unmoving.
“Aha! Then it’s a thing I can do if I have assistance!”
“No!” Harik surged to his feet. “You cannot do it. I am the God of Death, and I forbid it.”
I stared at Harik for two breaths. “I see. We can talk about this again later, I guess. She’s not getting any deader. I’ll hang on to the book. It might be handy.”
The God of Death issued a growl that might have been part fury and part indigestion. “Keep it, for now. Preserve it from harm. Accept your punishment for being such a disobedient, niggling toad!”
“What punishment?”
Harik grinned. “Goodbye, Murderer.”
“Wait! Mighty Harik, I believe I could kill a lot more people on my journey to visit Memweck if I had more magical power. Allow me to extend to you the great honor of starting negotiations.”
Harik stared at me and remained silent.
After an uncomfortable length of time, I said, “Allow me to extend to you the great honor of—”
“Yes, I heard you!” Harik snapped. “Tell me, Murderer, why should I offer you power when you have behaved so abominably?”
“You know that I will kill people and create seventeen kinds of hell with it. And as a plum to set atop that, I will use it to aggravate the spawn of Lutigan’s crusty loins.”
Harik grunted. “I offer half a square if you sail straight back across the ocean and forget Memweck.”
I rested the point of my sword on the dirt and clenched my jaw. “I cannot do that, Harik. I allowed Memweck to fool me, destroy people, and steal innocents. I’m obliged to bring them back.”
“I should just kill you now and deny Memweck the pleasure.” For a moment, Harik looked like a mopey child. “You care little about innocents, Murderer, but you care a great deal about looking foolish. Very well. I offer half a square if you remain alone for the next year—a hermit.”
“I wouldn’t have to kill every person I meet, would I? In order to remain alone?”
“You could if you wished. I would encourage it, but it wouldn’t be required.”
“Here’s a counteroffer, you carbuncle that walks like a god. Or floats, or whatever. In exchange for four squares, I will remain alone whenever I camp for the next month.”
“Fatuous. Both you and the offer.” Harik wrinkled his nose. “For one square, no one will ever stay by your side to help you or come to your aid again.”
“I won’t laugh, but only because I’m the politest one around here. For three squares, the next time I call for help, people won’t come.” It could be awkward in practice, but I felt confident I could slip out of most situations on my own.
Harik nodded. “If you agree that it will happen three times, I offer two squares.”
I didn’t feel quite that confident. “No. How about the next two times I call for help, nobody will come? Three squares.”
“Oh, no,” Harik said. “Nothing so simple. They will not come to your aid, nor will they stay to aid you. And it shall not be the next two times. I shall choose which two times you will be abandoned. It could be the first and the fiftieth. You will not be abandoned until I say so.”
Of course, I didn’t want Harik choosing when people would ignore my call for help, but he was still pissed at me. If I acted too hardheaded, he might just throw me out and not trade at all.
