The Nub said, “How about I will dislike—not hate—other people for a month?”
Fingit whispered, “What an idiot! That’s a horrible deal.”
Sakaj whispered, “Why are you talking to me then?”
Fingit said, “That’s a creative offer, Nub. Perhaps you’ll dislike them for a year.”
“A month.”
“Three months?”
The Nub swallowed and looked around with huge eyes. “Done.”
“Let it be so. You will know how to make your items when you get back. It was a pleasure doing business with you, although you did ruin my evening.”
“I was kind of scared to call you, Fingit, but I figured it would be better than getting killed at the Eastern Gateway.” The Nub had no physical body and couldn’t perspire, but he tried to wipe sweat off his face anyway.
“You’re welcome, Nub. Good luck with this stupid thing you’re planning.”
The Nub faded from view, leaving Fingit and Sakaj alone again.
Fingit began dribbling the power and knowledge to the Nub. “Well, I did my part. You had better be right about this.” Fingit put as much threat into his voice as he could, which wasn’t really all that much.
Sakaj said, “I am right, and everything will work out sweetly, as I promised. But why was this such a horrible deal? Surely disliking people is better than them disliking you.”
“You would think that, but no. Being disliked is an annoyance, sure. But disliking everybody will eat him from the inside. He may never recover. Well, it is only for three months, so there’s a small chance he’ll heal.”
Sakaj nodded. “You can be a sneaky bastard. I must remember that. Now, I’m ready to concentrate fully on your soup.”
Eleven
(Fingit)
On the day that the gods would later call the Moment of Transcendent Uncertainty, Sakaj materialized unconscious in Unicorn Town as usual. However, her arrival couldn’t be considered entirely routine, since her body was smashed flat like a godly rug two yards in diameter, leaving only her shoulders and head intact. Fingit walked around her several times, musing about what had caused this near-complete annihilation.
When Sakaj opened her eyes, she wriggled, grunted, and then banged her forehead against the grass. She cleared her throat before saying in a breathy voice, “Damn Krak to eat his own toes for eternity!”
“Krak did this?”
“Yes! Sort of. Evidently, the rule about not using any power doesn’t apply to His Magnificence. He proclaimed that his stronghold is no more than a ‘perilously cramped hovel’ that must be shored up for everyone’s safety.”
“It is a little tight. I could smell Lutigan from across the room.”
Sakaj sneered. “Well, to Krak, ‘shoring up’ means adding a four-story wing that increases the stronghold’s size twentyfold.”
Is there any rational justification for that? Probably not. Dad’s just a power-mad megalomaniac. Which makes sense for the divine ruler of all existence. So, he’s getting better.
“Shoring up also means imps swinging enormous marble blocks in all directions, and occasionally dropping one.” Sakaj panted as deeply as her squished lungs would allow, which wasn’t very deep at all.
Fingit realized upon examining her pulverized, burst-to-pieces gross self that he no longer felt at all attracted to Sakaj. “I think you arrived in time anyway. The Nub is dawdling around in the outer city, and the Farmer is heading toward him at last. They should collide pretty soon, unless one of them gets distracted by a glittery bauble or a rabbit or something like that.”
Sakaj strained to look up, but her neck and shoulders stuck up from her pulverized body at a difficult angle. At last, she gave up. “By Krak’s middle finger, help me turn my head!”
Fingit adjusted her head. “Ugh. That will be giving me nightmares.”
“Be quiet! Look!” Sakaj tried to point with her chin. “The Nub is disguised as a guard!”
“I know that. I sold him the disguise,” Fingit said. “Hush! He’s walking right toward the Farmer, there, on the other side of that nasty little building.”
The Nub had stopped next to a tavern and was staring around like a lost goose. Then he looked at his sleeve and stiffened. His disguise, an enchanted loop of cotton around his wrist, was pulling itself apart for no reason and falling to the ground.
That did it. The disguise has failed. Fingit chewed his lip and then opened his mouth.
“Don’t even speak!” Sakaj’s head wobbled, but that didn’t diminish her anger. “I’m so tired of hearing you whimper about things that could go wrong. Everything’s going perfectly.”
Fingit closed his mouth and tried to think victorious thoughts.
The Nub must have realized he was in danger, but he didn’t know that danger was walking right toward him. He trotted around the corner into an alley. Then a huge blob of a man hurtled out a door and crashed into the Nub as he was passing. He flew across the alley, hit the far wall, and slid to the ground.
“No! That’s not supposed to happen!” Fingit covered his mouth in an ungodlike fashion.
Sakaj hissed, “Wait. Just wait. It will be fine.”
Another man stumbled out through the door, and everyone started yelling. Fingit could hear them in perfect detail. The big, tubby man bellowed, “Get out of the way, you shitty little man-whore! Or hell, stay down there, I don’t give a damn. I can tup you up or tup you down.” He grabbed at his crotch, which repulsed Fingit when he realized the man was drunk and fumbling to take down his trousers.
The Nub stood up and backed away.
“Get back here!” the man bellowed louder, grasping for the young sorcerer.
Three more men clumped out of the building.
Fingit said, “Damn it! Those men will drag the Nub inside and rape him to death!”
Fingit missed the Nub’s next words, but the big man swayed and slurred something in response. The Nub pulled a pathetic little knife from his belt.
Sakaj squinted at the window to the world of man. “Are you sure the Nub is a sorcerer? He seems rather puny and breakable to me.”
Fingit hissed as the walloping drunkard lurched toward
