Fingit sneered. “Hah! I don’t think you came here to bargain at all. Is this a social call? Would you like me to send for refreshments? Here’s my counter. I’ll give you a nasty mean streak. Not cruel, mind you. Just nasty. How about that?”
“I don’t want that!” The Nub was nearly babbling. “Um… I offer having bad penmanship.”
“Every woman you ever love will cheat on you.”
“Uh, pigs will make me sneeze,” the Nub said.
“You’ll cheat on every woman you love.” Fingit grinned as he played with this new sorcerer.
“I’ll forget my wife’s anniversary—two years in a row.”
“You lose your childhood—all memories gone,” Fingit said. Yes, that’s the one. It will bring me a generous reservoir of power, and it’ll start toughening up the little biscuit.
“I… my knee will ache when the weather changes.”
“No. All the childhood memories, or no deal.”
The Nub turned his head this way and that as if help might come. “This is crazy! Is this really all you’ll accept? Bib, can you advise me?”
The Murderer said slowly, “That may be the best deal you’ll get, Desh. He knows it’s live or die for you.”
“How about I just lose my memories of my mother, not the whole childhood?”
“No,” Fingit said.
“My mother. That’s what I can offer.”
Fingit winced. “We can’t come to an arrangement then. You may go.”
The Murderer shrugged. “Come on, Desh, let’s leave.”
Is he leaving? They’re fading. He’s really leaving—Krak’s eyeballs! “Wait! Maybe we can arrange something. I’m moved by a young man with such promise.”
“So, we have a deal with my memories of my mother?” The Nub chewed his lip.
“Well, no. But for just those memories, I’ll offer you one-tenth of a square.”
“Desh…” The Murderer shook his head.
“Quiet, Murderer!” Fingit said.
“Bib, can you advise me?” The Nub looked pathetic.
The Murderer gave a slow answer. “Son, one-tenth of a square will heal you, but you’ll still lose the leg.”
“I… I can’t believe this! This is insane! Bib! Damn it to hell and halfway home!”
“Was there an offer somewhere in that rant?” Come on, just say yes and go back to your horrible life.
“No! If I ever find that bastard with the spear, I’m going to beat him to death! All right, I’ll settle for—”
“Wait!” the Murderer shouted.
“Yes?” The Nub sounded like a puppy waiting for a treat.
“If you’re taking the lower offer, hold out for an extra hundredth of a square and keep it for yourself.”
“You didn’t find some clever trick…”
“Sorry, Desh. Remember, there are no good deals.”
The Nub looked down. “I want eleven-hundredths of a square in exchange for all memories of my mother. That’s my last offer.”
“Impossible!” Fingit snapped.
“Make it possible!” Desh snapped in the same tone.
This is just a fraction of the power I was hoping for. I won’t even be able to rebuild my workshop with this. I can’t believe it. Fingit whispered, “Harik! This is all your fault! You and your damned sorcerer!”
The God of Death gave Fingit a casual shrug.
Fingit said, “Well… all right, we have a bargain.”
“Send a tenth of a square to Bib and the rest to me!” The Nub’s voice started trembling.
“Agreed. We could make a separate deal for the leg, you know. An offer you’ll like better?”
“No. This is plenty.” The Nub’s body was sagging a lot for something that has no objective reality.
“We’re heading off now.” The Murderer grabbed the Nub’s spirit again. “We’ll let you boys get back to kissing each other’s asses.”
“Murderer, one more thing,” Harik said. “I’ve extended my offer to cancel your open-ended debt. You may kill the person you most care for anytime within the next week to lift your obligation. The intentional act itself will seal the agreement. Perhaps a good opportunity shall arise.”
The humans faded from sight.
“Don’t feel bad.” Sakaj caressed Fingit’s arm as he drew the Nub’s power. “You made the first real trade in years. We’re witnesses. We know exactly how much you got, just in case Krak asks us.”
“Never worry, my fine fellow.” Harik patted Fingit’s other arm. “I feel certain the Father of the Gods will use all that power sagaciously just as soon as he thrashes you into surrendering it to him.”
Eight
(Fingit)
If Lutigan flexes his biceps one more time, I’m going to build a dragon to bite him in half.
Fingit watched the God of War lean back on his marble throne and flirt with Krak’s seminude demigoddess servants. Sadly, dragon-building was only a dream right now, since Krak had appropriated almost every drop of power Fingit had squeezed out of the Nub. That included more than just his spoils from confiscating the Nub’s illusions and taking the memories of his mother. A few days after the Nub escaped bleeding to death, he came begging for more power. Fingit had promised the little thug horrible nightmares. Who snapped all that power up in an eyeblink? Krak.
Fingit raised his platinum goblet for an angry pull of ambrosia.
I was the one who got everybody to Unicorn Town. I was the one who bargained with that little walking sausage of a sorcerer. I was the one who brought in the power. And this is what Krak does with it.
Krak had proclaimed that the highest possible priority was to rebuild his sanctuary, the Temple of Lordly Penetration. The original temple had been built on a scale Krak thought fitting for the divine master of all existence, and it had enclosed more land than a god could comfortably circumnavigate between breakfast and lunch. It stood seventy stories high amid the Towering Mountains of Unfathomable Might, and it rested upon the slopes of the tallest peak, Mount Humility.
As an interior decorator, Krak had always balanced magnificence with austerity. He had filled the stark and elegant white marble structure with grottos of weeping simplicity, each containing a still pool of water, three stunted trees, a vase holding one brilliant dahlia, and a few butterflies in masculine hues. Artful entertainment halls blended into elegant seating and then into simple gardens, with walls adorned by no more than two tasteful paintings. Fingit