Whistler coughed and grinned for a second. “Well, now that Halla has this Bloom That . . . this Bloom thing, we’re fine. That is, she can knock anything to pieces, and she says that should include demigods.”
I raised an eyebrow at Halla. “She said that?”
“I did,” Halla said in a softer voice than normal. “That’s not the important thing, though. The important thing is that Memweck searches for you. If he finds you, he will find us too. We should leave you before that happens.”
It almost made sense, but not if you scrutinized it. Halla would be the last one to accept logic so shallow. It was Harik, then, driving them away so they wouldn’t help me. Well, I had agreed to this bargain. I’d find a way to murder my enemies in spite of it.
I smiled around at them. “All right, then. I can see you don’t trust me. Well, don’t think you’re special. I don’t trust you, either, so go on, I won’t follow you. Well, maybe I will if we’re all hunting Memweck, but it will be coincidence.”
Halla glanced at Leddie.
“Oh, all right, fine!” Leddie scowled. “Memweck is about two-thirds of the way up that mountain there. There’s a back trail through the hills and up the other side of the mountain. We’re going that way, so stay off it. It’s ours!”
“Where’s the front trail?” I said.
Leddie opened and closed her fist a few times. “Just keep going up this path. But he’ll see you coming from forever away, even with that hair in your arm.”
I stared back down the road toward Caislin. “Maybe I’ll go home, then. You’ve made your plans and have your Memweck-slaying weapon. I’d just be in the way.”
Bea sneered. “Good! When you get to Bindle, keep going.”
“I’ll hold a war council with my horse and then decide.” I stepped over to my mare, pulled a spare shirt from a saddlebag, and wiped as much of the blood from my saddle and stirrups as I could. I heard the others mount and trot away. When I looked up two minutes later, they were already lost to sight.
Midday had passed just a little while before. I had already done my murders for Harik today. By Krak and the Black Drifting Whores, I wasn’t going home. I didn’t even have one. This trail would take me to Memweck’s front door, unless Halla had allowed Leddie to lie about it.
I pulled out Harik’s book, opened it to the third page, and stared at the black square. Soon, I became aware of glowing, transparent Manon waving and jumping up and down in front of me. I drew my sword, and she touched her chest to the point.
“Father! Are you going to bring me back?”
“It’s proven to be a complex endeavor, sweetie. I will press the issue the next time I talk to Harik, though.”
Manon fell still and stood blinking at me. “That’s all right. I’m not crying.”
I tried to joke a little. “Is there much crying among the dead?”
“I don’t think so. I think maybe I can’t cry.”
I started to reach out to her, but I caught myself. “Manon, you told me to walk straight into Memweck’s home and then right up to him. Do you remember?”
She scowled at me as if I had asked whether she had a tongue. “Of course I remember!”
“I want to be sure I understand that correctly. So . . . is it still correct?”
“Yes. Wait. Is that the only reason you called me?” Her lips formed a hard line. “To get stupid fighting tips?”
“No, darling. But I don’t want to do a foolish thing and get killed. If I was on that side with you, I couldn’t bring you back here.”
“I don’t want you on this side!” She sounded a little panicked.
“I wouldn’t fit in?” I winked at her. “I might embarrass you?”
“I think . . . I think it would be different. People aren’t the same.”
“What do you mean?” It wasn’t often one could learn about the afterlife from somebody who had been there.
“Nobody . . . people don’t pay much attention. Even if they loved each other when they were alive, now they just walk past each other. Like they never met. I think it’s like that. Or maybe I dreamed it! Do you think dead people can dream? Just don’t you die! You won’t love me anymore.”
That was like a knife in the chest. “All right, I won’t die. I’m headed to kill Memweck now, and then I’ll talk to Harik. I love you.”
Manon hadn’t been one to show happiness. She had been more inclined to show how dim and oblivious she thought I was, which I guess is common among teenage girls. Now she showed me a beautiful smile, although not quite happy.
I mounted and trotted my horse on up the trail. The path soon curved through modest pine trees, with a layer of needles piled on dry dirt. The afternoon grew cold and cloudy, but the air felt as dry as sand. Sometimes the trail ran right along a cliff’s edge, and other times it swung a hundred paces back toward the hillside.
More people than I would have expected traveled that path in the high hills, both up and down. I paused to gently interrogate a couple of them and found that a fine hunting ground lay in those hills. Although I could scarcely believe it, the people of Caislin sometimes tired of eating goat. They always welcomed hunters bringing game.
A few silver miners traveled that path too. Little groups of them marched uphill with their tools and empty sacks. Some strode back downhill laughing, or else trudged down the trail as glum as if they missed supper.
The sun set, but I kept riding. I walked my mare every so often to rest her. Manon and the dead disappeared sometime between sunset and midnight. I didn’t notice them leaving. At midnight,
