I passed fewer hunters and more miners the next day. I had ridden onto the mountainside proper, and scary cliffs became more frequent. Throughout the day, I remained watchful, since I owed Harik two deaths before sunset. However, the only people I passed were miners, guilty of no more than vile gossip, taking small things left unattended, and sleeping with other people’s spouses. If they deserved killing, then ninety-nine people in a hundred deserved it too.
The sunlight was growing dim, and I still hadn’t murdered anybody. I started to sweat in spite of the cold. If I failed to deliver two lives to Harik, he would demand that I follow his orders in deciding who to kill from then on.
I heard shouting off the trail, along the cliff, and I galloped my mare in that direction. A rough, well-armed man had just shoved a miner to the ground. Another such man threatened a second miner with a long knife. It was precisely what I needed. I almost thanked Harik under my breath.
The men turned toward my horse’s hoofbeats and backed away from me as I halted and jumped out of the saddle. I preferred not to charge my horse straight off the cliff. I ran toward them and half beheaded one before he could shift out of the way. I spun toward the other, who was shuffling one direction and then the other, as if he couldn’t decide whether to run or fight. Then an arrow sprouted from the side of his head, and he crumpled.
A hundred feet back down the path, Pil stood holding a bow and smiling at me. I stared at her for a moment and then examined the miners—a huge-eyed, chubby man and what appeared to be his teenage son. With my mouth open, I blinked at each of them in turn—Pil, then the man, and then the boy.
I wondered which one of them I was going to kill in the next two minutes.
THIRTY-THREE
Pil loped toward me, holding her bow. The miner babbled his thanks, maybe in two languages, while his son cried and laughed at the same time.
I sure wasn’t going to murder Pil. As for the boy, I had killed three children in my life, and I hoped I’d never kill another one. That left the bug-eyed miner, and I hated to kill him. He hadn’t done anything especially bad that I knew of. Killing him seemed harsh since I had saved his life sixty seconds ago.
I didn’t have a choice, though. If I failed, Harik would be telling me which people to kill, and he’d certainly point me to the ones who deserved it least.
The grinning miner shut up when I raised my hand. I met his eyes. “Would you like to say goodbye to your boy? You have a few seconds.” I lifted my knife with my other hand. The man squeaked and nearly fell over backward, but I grabbed the front of his shirt.
“What are you doing?” Pil screeched as she arrived beside me.
“It’s a debt. I have to kill one of you. I don’t have a choice.”
Pil punched me on my numb arm. “You are stupider than . . . a really damn stupid thing . . . what did you tell me, huh? Try to think back. I know it was days and days ago, but a powerful sorcerer like you can remember little things, right? Or are things only important when you can make yourself sound wise saying them?”
“Don’t play around. I only have a minute. Maybe less.” I glanced toward the dim clouds in the west.
“You shut up and come with me!” Pil seized my spirit as she lifted her own out of her body. It shocked me too much for me to think about struggling. Disembodied Pil called, “Harik! Harik, receive us!”
All sensation except hearing ceased when we reached the trading place.
“You’ve made a singular entrance, Knife.” Harik’s voice rolled out like layers of silk. “Perhaps I should send the Murderer away so that we may converse in private.”
I imagined drawing my sword. The Gods’ Realm appeared under a nighttime sky. I looked again. The sky was unmarred blackness, even though I had seen stars there in the past. I stared straight up and fell to one knee when I became convinced that we were spinning inside something. Harik sat in the middle of the gazebo, and the only light came from a lantern hanging over his head.
Pil stood staring at nothing. “Please don’t send him away, Mighty Harik. I have come to shame Bib into showing some courage.”
“That sounds promising. Continue.”
“Wait!” I sounded a little whinier than I liked, so I cleared my throat. “Pil, I know what I need to do, and I don’t have too damn much time left to do it in. Unless you have some unexpected, stupefying way in mind to change things.”
“Of course I do, or I wouldn’t have brought us here. Keep up!” Pil seemed a bit harsher to me, and I wondered what she had been trading away.
Pil went on: “Harik, I want Bib’s debt of two killings a day to be ended. I mean I want you to declare it paid. As of now. Paid off.”
Harik grinned. “I do not find that enticing in the least.”
“There’s more,” Pil said. “Bib will get five squares of power, and you’ll tell him about Memweck’s greatest weakness. No, not weakness—that’s not right. His weakness could be collecting spoons or craving dumplings. I mean his greatest vulnerability to physical harm.”
Harik stopped smiling. “Anything else? A winged horse? Krak’s best coat? My wife to be used as a plaything for your holidays? No?” Then he shouted, “Be silent, you puerile girl! Murderer, do you propose to waste my time as well?”
Pil raised her voice. “Your Magnificence, just one more moment. I did come all this way, you know. You . . .” She closed her eyes. “You rotten mule’s tongue.”
“Good
