“I’d throw that hexed one in a ditch. It might kill you. Or me.”
“I don’t know why, but I feel as though I ought to keep it.” Pil reached over her shoulder and touched the big weapon. “Maybe it’s strong enough to kill Floppy-Ass.” She winked at me and then looked grim. “How do you plan to kill him?”
I had been thinking about that problem for days and still didn’t have a solution that I liked. “If you don’t shoot him in the eye, I’ll assault him with the forces of nature. From far away. I don’t think we should close with him. Although he might not enjoy getting stabbed with my stupid god-named sword.”
“That’s your plan?”
“Yes, although I expect we’ll improvise a bit.”
Pil worked her jaw from side to side. “Will it hurt your feelings if I ride back down the mountain and leave you to die?”
I grinned. “Yes, I think it would.”
“I’d better not do that, then. I’m tired of talking to you, though. You’re depressing me. Let’s keep going.”
An hour later, the scant trail widened into a broad dirt path. Shortly after that, it became a road paved with smooth stones. We halted.
“Do you think we’re here?” Pil put a load of sarcasm into that.
I chuckled as I examined the twenty-five-foot-tall marble statue of Lutigan standing before us. I dismounted and peered over the edge of the road, which ran straight for at least three hundred paces and was wide enough for five wagons. I saw that we were on a bridge that bypassed the winding edge of the mountain. Memweck had created a magnificent, elevated thoroughfare into his domain.
“I admit I’m impressed,” I said.
Pil nodded. “You could offer to join up with his side if he didn’t want to expunge you from the world.”
“Yep, that’s too bad. Let’s prepare.” I pulled several white bands and whirled them into the sky. Within five minutes, dark, raging storm clouds had begun to gather ahead of us.
We rode down the stone bridge at a smart trot. Two hundred paces along, I spotted a figure walking toward us. By the time we’d drawn near, I could see it was a powerful bald man wearing deerskin.
The man grinned and lifted a hand, and we all stopped. “Welcome, Bib. We’ve been awfully anxious for you to arrive. You wouldn’t believe the tension. I’m Smif, Lord Memweck’s majordomo. What questions do you have before I escort you to Lord Memweck?”
“What’s the best way to kill the son of a bitch?” I said.
Smif nodded like a chicken pecking corn. “That’s a phenomenal question. I don’t think he can be killed, at least not by anyone in this realm. I doubt he can even be hurt much.”
I sat tall. “But he can be hurt? You’ve seen it?”
“Yes, a bit. I’ve seen him shake his head after some titanic blow. He’s never bled or bruised, though.”
“Thank you, Smif,” I said. “That’s all I need. Pil?”
“Does he like music? Or poetry?”
Smif’s forehead wrinkled. “Yes, of course he does. He’s civilized. I mean, he’s divine, for the sake of Krak and his knickers. Semidivine.”
Pil clapped her hands. “That’s wonderful! He’ll probably allow us to recite our death poems before he kills us. He will, right?”
Smif shrugged. “It’s getting late. Anything else?”
There was nothing else. Smif led us across the bridge, whistling a song I’d never heard. I pulled another band along the way to freshen the storm clouds, and I made a few more preparations. We reached the other end of the bridge, which I estimated to be a full thousand paces long. A thirty-foot-tall marble statue of Krak stood at that end.
I had expected a massive gate or entryway, but the bridge spilled out onto an enormous clearing full of flourishing trees and flowers. Stone and wooden benches, tables, and statues dotted the area. A natural stone wall fifty feet high stood on one side of the area, and the marble façade of an eight-story building stretched the length of another side.
“You have put me out! Put me out in the worst way!” I couldn’t tell where Memweck’s voice came from. “I promised Gondix I’d be home three days ago. We planned a hunting trip. And then a party! Well, an orgy with maidens. A welcome home orgy for me, and you ruined the whole dog-rotting thing! Do you have an explanation?”
“Maidens, you say?” I dismounted and scanned the area, smiling. “What a fine subject of face-to-face conversation! I am always eager to talk about girls, wherever you are. My first love was Anni, a tenderhearted young thing. Her father and mine despised one another, being rivals for the rich halibut fishing waters.”
“I don’t care!” Memweck stepped out from behind a twelve-foot-tall statue that was sixty feet away from us. “Be quiet! I can see why my father hates you so much!”
Memweck stood about seven feet tall and wore his white hair long. Most of his skin was a rich copper color. I knew that because I could see most of his skin. He wore short, tight trousers that came up almost to his belly button, and that was all. The muscles of his arms and torso stood out hard and broad. I glanced next to him and realized he was standing beside a statue of himself, identical in every detail, including his stance.
“Oh, shut up and come over here!” Memweck yelled. “I’ll pop off your head like a bushy little apple stem. It will hardly hurt. But if you make me come over there . . .” He pointed at the natural stone wall to my right, and a white curtain fell.
Two chains hung from a rough scaffold. Whistler’s right arm was manacled to one of the chains, and a weight hung from his left ankle, pulling him into a body-breaking position. Leddie hung from the other chain by her ankles. A leather collar was fixed around her neck, and a weight hung
