by Bill McCurry
Sakaj had already arrived, and as his first item of business, Krak demanded that she share the secret of returning home. After several minutes of argument, equivocation, threats, and tears, she told everyone how to do it. It wasn’t that hard. Metaphorically, it was comparable to pulling on your trousers inside out and backward, while remembering there’s an invisible third trouser leg you have to tie to your wrist. Fingit admitted that he probably never would have figured that out on his own.
Krak stood tall and scowled. “I must return home. I don’t see any other way to test whether you’re lying about all this, Sakaj. I’ll be a drooling worm on the other side, so I won’t be back today. I’m trusting you—all three of you—not to screw around like some damned lower beings. I can trust you, can’t I?” Krak clenched his fist, in which he had years ago held the impossibly searing light of the sun. That light had flickered out, but the other gods hadn’t forgotten, and they nodded assurances.
That left Fingit alone with Sakaj and Harik. The three of them began sniping and bickering over who got to control the window onto the world of man.
“Gorlana.”
Fingit looked around. “What?”
“What?” Harik said. Sakaj just frowned.
“Oh, Gorlana…” came a voice from someone who wasn’t in Unicorn Town.
“Mother stab me in the heart! Somebody wants to trade!” Fingit said.
“That’s the Murderer!” Harik pushed past Fingit and knocked him down, although the voice wasn’t coming from any particular direction. “He’s mine! Stay away!”
Fingit stood up, glanced at Sakaj, and shrugged. “Sure.”
The Murderer began materializing out of the darkness above them.
Whenever humans came to trade, they saw nothing. It was as if their bodies didn’t exist. The gods had created the trading environment that way ages ago. However, gods could see humans perfectly well. It gave the gods a nice little advantage when the bargaining became heated. In Unicorn Town, the window lacked most of the style and refinements the gods had enjoyed in their usual bargaining arena, which had burned down, collapsed, and been swallowed by the earth. However, Unicorn Town did possess all the necessary functions.
The Murderer at last arrived, a thin, ragged, middle-aged man. His neat beard and longish hair showed more gray than red. Weather and strain had lined his face, but he exuded a surprising amount of vitality.
And that’s the Nub arriving next to him! Balding, freakishly huge cheeks, clean-shaven, young and fit, but unexceptional. Oh, now I see, he’s bleeding to death. His leg’s just about torn off. Well, that ought to give me a little leverage in negotiations.
The Murderer was speaking, apparently to the Nub. “There are no good deals. Right?”
The Nub nodded. “Right.”
“Hush now.” The Murderer didn’t hush at all when he said it. “I sense a bunch of assholes approaching.”
Harik said in a deep, painfully rich but clipped voice, “My dear Murderer, is that an appropriate greeting for an old acquaintance, absent these many years? One to whom you are obligated in such an overwhelming manner?”
“My apologies, mighty Harik. I amend my observation. I sense a bunch of squabbling, grasping assholes with the morals of back-alley drug addicts approaching. Your Worship.”
“You might cause me to forget how profitable our little discourses have been, Murderer. Be thankful I remember the profit and choose to allow your continued existence.”
The Murderer smirked. “Pretend I said thank you until you blushed, Harik. Was that you creating hell and confusion with all the fog just now? That was a lot of hard work just to get my attention. Do you like me that much? I like hemorrhoids more than I like you.”
Sakaj whispered to Harik and Fingit in the divine whisper that the humans would never be able to hear. “Why do you take such abuse from this sad package of meat? I didn’t think my opinion of you could fall any lower, Harik, but I believe it has.”
Harik whispered, “What do I care for his opinion? I use the fool as if he were one of Fingit’s grimy hammers and no more.”
Fingit raised his eyebrows and whispered, “Wait. He said fog. Harik, what fog?”
Harik looked mystified, and then he smiled. “I silently wished confusion upon mankind earlier. My unparalleled intellect and power manifested that wish as fog to inconvenience my property, the Murderer.” Harik looked up into the distance as if waiting for someone to carve a statue of him.
Sakaj and Fingit stared at Harik for a few seconds until Sakaj shook her head.
The Nub spoke again, and his voice quivered a little. “Bib, is that the voice of the actual God of Death? Shouldn’t we be… humbler or something?”
“He’s a mighty god, Desh, and he doesn’t care what us insignificant nits think. We can’t hurt the fussy little moose-crotch’s feelings. Can we, Harik?”
“No.” Harik ground his teeth and whispered, “You foul insect.”
Fingit whispered, “Right, you don’t care. He’s just a hammer and no more.”
The Murderer looked around and smiled, even though he was incapable of seeing anything. “So where have you boys been all these years? Big hangover? Misplace your thunderbolts?”
Fingit bit his lip. What do we say? We can’t say we’ve been sitting around getting fat and going crazy.
Sakaj whispered, “Let’s just pretend we didn’t hear the question.” Fingit and Harik nodded.
After a little more silence, the Murderer shrugged. “That’s all right, I don’t really give a shit. Just making conversation. Besides, I didn’t call for you, Harik. I called Gorlana, so why the hell are you here?”
Fingit whispered, “Harik, can’t you get him under control? He’s teaching the Nub bad habits.”
Harik sighed and whispered, “I invite you to make the attempt yourself if you wish. I have never dealt with any sorcerer more willful and profane than this one.” Harik spoke out to the humans. “I own you, Murderer. Nothing happens involving you unless I sanction it. I must approve any exceptions, and until you fulfill my debt—”
The Murderer rolled his eyes, even if they did lack substance. “Oh, shut that festering gash in your face, you long-winded fart!”
The Nub said, “Just to be clear… should you be talking that way to the God of Death? I mean when I’m… I mean on the other side, things are…”
Sakaj whispered, “Harik, you should not forget that all this talk of sanctions and exceptions arises from nothing more than convention. From polite agreements between us, that is. Fingit could trade with the Murderer if he chose, regardless of your talk about sanctions.”
Harik whispered, “You leave the Murderer alone! He is mine!”
Fingit whispered, “This sorcerer seems to despise you, Harik. To an embarrassing degree. Almost as much as your wife does, if that’s possible.”
Harik bounded over and stood nose to nose with Fingit. “No one will trade with the Murderer but me, upon pain of my displeasure,” he whispered.
Sakaj whispered, “Then hurry and wring something good from him!”
“Fine!” Harik said it out loud where the sorcerers could hear him. His eyes popped wide open. He had allowed sorcerers to hear something he had meant to say only to other gods. It was an embarrassing lack of discipline that could earn him several thousand years of mockery. He glanced to each side like a little boy caught stealing a pie. Then, with eyes still wide, he said out loud, “We’re not fools. I know what you want. No one can help you, Murderer, because you cannot pay. I hold a lien on everything you have.”
Sakaj whispered, “Harik, would you wish me to speak aloud to the Murderer and tell him what your wife says to everyone about your deficiencies?”
Harik hung his head and whispered, “Damn it to Krak’s rod!”
Fingit and Sakaj were laughing silently into their hands.
The Murderer said, “I’m not here to make an offer. I’m just here to advise Desh on his first deal. To make sure he doesn’t get comp
letely violated in a bad place by you jackals.”
Harik paused. “You may not negotiate for the other one. Go away.”
“No.”
“I command you to leave!” Harik boomed.
As calm if he were talking about pie recipes, the Murderer said, “I command you to screw yourself, your sister, and your pet goat. See how far that command goes.”
Harik whispered to Fingit, “I cannot force him to leave unless I terminate negotiations. Is that what you wish?”
“No, keep going!”
Harik said out loud, “Fine. You’ve always been a difficult case. I’ll allow you to remain, if you promise to be respectful and quiet.”
“Thank you.” The Murderer smiled. “So, will you make Desh an offer? Please, O great Harik, who can topple mountains with one quiver of one hair on your masculine, hirsute backside?”
Harik smiled too. “No. I cannot deal with him.”
“Do you mean you’re wasting our time with all this prancing around? I was nice to you for no reason at all? Come on, Desh, let’s go.” The two sorcerers began to fade.
Fingit spoke up. “I can trade with the young fellow. Happy to do so.”
The Murderer beamed. “Why, that sounds like Fingit! How have you been, Your Worship? Built any good chariots lately?”
I want to destroy this sorcerer so much. Why was I ever nice to him? Fingit forced himself to laugh. “Murderer, I own the exclusive option on the Nub here. All of his trades must go through me.”
The Nub scowled. “What? The Nub?”
“Yes, that’s our name for you,” Fingit said. “We have to call you something evocative. Who can remember all these sorcerers by their sad little human names?”
“Bib gets the Murderer, and I get the Nub? Why the Nub? Why not the Crafter or the Falcon or something like that? No one’s going to respect a sorcerer called the Nub.”
“We could just call you the Corpse.” Harik purred, something he did when he wanted to sound terrifying. The other gods compared it to the many horrible sounds produced by human digestion.
The Murderer said, “None of this matters a damn if we can’t make a bargain. Let’s get on with it!”
“Quite so!” Fingit pursed his lips. All right. Come on, we’re waiting, Nub. We only have so much time before the end of existence.
The Murderer cleared his throat. “Desh, they’re waiting for you to tell them what you want.”
“Oh!” the Nub yelped. After a long pause, he said, “I want to be healed, and I want my leg back.”
Fingit whispered, “Let’s get them just as confused as a bat in a barrel. Multisided deals, restrictions on possession, options, and whatever else we can think of.”
Harik grinned.
Fingit put on a pitying expression so that the sorcerers would hear it in his voice. “Ah, I’m sorry, but that’s kind of a problem. You may trade for power, but it becomes your power. How will you then use it? Nub, you can’t just wave a stick or some chicken entrails at the stump of your leg and expect it to be healed. You must cede the power to the Murderer so he can heal you. For that, you have to deal with Harik.”
“Pig shit on apple pie, are all of you bastards trying to get a cut of this deal?” the Murderer said.
Harik said, “Murderer, I know that I’ve taken a firm stance in the past on clearing your current debt before any more deals, but I am prepared to waive that restriction, this one time only, to assist you in this dire situation.”
“Really?” The Murderer’s voice oozed sarcasm.
“Truly! I am prepared to offer you a substantial trade. I will grant power enough to completely heal the Nub. I also offer power beyond that, which you may use to heal, bless, call the forces of nature, or anything else within your talents. This will be a large block of power—five complete squares. Just make an offer.”
“Just kiss my ass. If you have an offer to make to Desh, make it.”
“I’m asking very little of you, really. In addition to the many murders you have already accomplished for me in such a fine fashion, I would require that within the next week, you murder the one person you care about most. Easily done, as I’m sure you’ll agree, since those whom you love tend to annoy you beyond all reason quite quickly. My own wife comes to mind.”
The Murderer laughed. “No. Definitely no.”
“Ah, that is a shame. But as a bit of incentive, I will reduce your open-ended debt in addition to my current extremely generous offer.”
“That doesn’t mean a damn thing. You could say the debt’s cut by a hundred, but only you know how many I still owe. It might be a thousand, or ten thousand.”
Harik smiled. “Or one hundred and one.”
The Murderer sneered. “I don’t trust you, so forget it.”
Sakaj whispered, “Harik, how much are you willing to give? Once the Veil comes down, this open-ended debt may be the best deal any of us has.”
“We need the power right now,” Harik whispered. “A dependable stream of power means nothing if we all get pulled in half and tossed around the landscape.”
Harik said to the humans, “Very well. I’m making a tremendous sacrifice here, but I’m prepared to cancel your open-ended debt completely—paid in full—if you kill the person you care about most within the week. I will also deliver five squares so you can save the Nub.”
The Murderer looked down and hunched his shoulders. His jaw tightened and relaxed over and over for what seemed like a long time. “I might…”
Fingit peered at the Murderer and whispered, “Oh… is he about to cry? That’s embarrassing. You should kill him when we’re done, Harik.”
The Nub cleared his throat, twice. “Say no. Nothing’s worth that. Let’s leave.”
The Murderer nodded. “All right. Harik, I say no.”
“You should reconsider. You will never get a better offer. You’ll never even get this offer again.”
“On second thought… no. Drop it. My answer will always be no.”
Harik whispered a litany of volcanic curses. Then he took a slow breath, although his fists remained clenched. “A shame. Very well, I don’t see what we can do for you.” He scowled and motioned for Fingit to take over.
The Murderer and the Nub began drifting back to the world of man.
Fingit said, “Wait! There may be a way for us to help, but it won’t be cheap.”
“Let me guess,” the Murderer said. “Desh trades you something you fancy, then you peel off part for yourself before passing it on to that impotent leech, Harik. He snatches off a taste for himself and then delivers the power to Desh, who gives him permission to cede it to me. How am I doing?”
“Quite well.” Then Fingit whispered to Harik, “Drifting Whores! The Murderer is too dangerous to let live. We should kill him as soon as possible.”
Harik hissed, “The Murderer is my property. If you touch him, I shall give you to Cheg-Cheg tied up in ribbon.”
Fingit shook his head and answered the Murderer. “It’s been a while since we’ve worked a four-cornered deal, but we can certainly manage it. So, Nub, make your offer.”
The Murderer began whistling some stupid human melody.
The Nub’s face did something between a smile and a grimace. “You should offer me something first. I want something good, and don’t try to trick me. Please.”
“Murderer, shut the hell up!” Fingit yelled, and the man ceased whistling. “I will deliver, by proxy, two squares of power for the price of—”
The Nub cut in. “Bib, how much power do you need?”
“Two squares are far too much. We need half a square at most.”
“I want half a square, Fingit, no more.”
The little bastard. That was nothing but luck for him to think of that. Fingit sniffed. “All right. I’ll deliver one-half of one square in exchange for the removal of your capability to father children for the rest of your life.”
The Nub’s mouth dropped open, and he actually covered his groin with one ha
nd. “What? You damned… you…”
The Murderer said, “That is a bit expensive, but understand that Fingit is just taking a tough bargaining position. Desh, as your advisor, I suggest a counteroffer of forgoing one orgasm some time within the next year.”
The Nub yelped, “Yes, that one! The orgasm one! That’s my offer!”
Fingit put some contempt into his laugh. “That’s hardly an offer at all! Did you come here to waste our time? Here’s a different offer then. In exchange for the power, you’ll become a compulsive gambler with horrible luck.”
“No!” the Nub yelled. “Bib? Do you have any advice?”
“Yes, I do, son. I’d offer these snakes one bad but temporary rash in the next year.”
“All right… I see what you’re saying. I offer one bad but temporary rash in the next year.”
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.”
