Wee Piggies of Radiant Might

by Bill McCurry

  All corpses in all realms disappeared at sunrise. Every other being in existence should have offered thanks for that, since it saved them from discovering what the gods would do with millions of their own corpses.

  Fingit walked a wide circle around his corpse to reach Sakaj. Then he pulled the jar of soup out of the dragon-skin bag suspended by a silk strap over his shoulder.

  “You’re crazier than me!” Sakaj shouted. “What is wrong with you? The opportunity might have arisen and you would have missed it!”

  “Did the opportunity arise?”

  “No,” Sakaj grumbled.

  Fingit raised the jar over his head. “Then we have soup!”

  They sat a polite distance away from Fingit’s body and unpacked the bag. Sakaj blew on the soup. “It’s mere luck that you didn’t miss anything important. I have heard murmuring, but nothing loud enough to be distinct.”

  Fingit bent over his bowl. “Doesn’t the soup smell good?”

  “Fine! It’s good soup. It’ll nourish the body and raise the dead. Shut up about it.”

  “Fingit!” a voice bellowed from the darkness. It reverberated so that Fingit sloshed some hot soup onto his thumb.

  “It’s the Nub,” Fingit whispered. The young man sounded more frightened than he had the last time, and the last time, he’d been bleeding to death. Fingit slipped into the faux trading arena and pulled at the young sorcerer. The Nub materialized on the bare dirt patch. He stared around as if he’d be able to see something. A lot of sorcerers did that.

  This is it. Betray the Nub and trust Sakaj to save him, because I sure won’t be able to help him.

  The gods disapproved of betraying sorcerers. They had no moral objection to it, but it tended to hurt the gods as often as it did the sorcerers. Early in the gods’ dealings with men, Harik conceived a clever scheme that involved betraying a sorcerer into a perilous situation, then offering to sell the sorcerer a means of escape that would save him, only to betray him into a worse situation, and so on. He figured he could drain a sorcerer of all possible value in fewer than four days, or fewer than three if the sorcerer lived in a dangerous neighborhood.

  The inaugural attempt of this scheme appalled Harik. He found that after the first betrayal, he couldn’t even contact the sorcerer, never mind charge an obscene price to save him. The fellow drowned in a sewer, and Harik lost a valuable property.

  Trial and error revealed that once a god betrayed a sorcerer, the god could not contact the fellow until he extricated himself. Other gods might speak to the sorcerer, but not the god who committed the betrayal. This phenomenon pissed off all the gods, but Krak declared it was just the universe maintaining balance. He explained, “If you tend a tree, then you may reach up and pick apples every year. But if you cut down the tree so that you don’t have to reach up, don’t cry next year about not having any damned apples.”

  All right, I’m going to betray the Nub. Oh, hell, Sakaj is right, I am crazier than she is.

  Sakaj kept silent, but she stood nearby.

  “Fingit,” the Nub said again, in a much calmer tone than before.

  “That’s better,” Fingit replied. “That first scream sounded like an ox being sacrificed with a dull sword. Now that you’re here, Nub, what do you want? Not to be brusque, but I left dinner to answer your call, and I don’t care to keep my charming escort waiting. So what will it be? Are you tired of the river spirit? Do you want the Murderer’s blonde girl to fall in love with you? Love charm, maybe? Do you want an ugly sword to match your sling? Armor that can’t be pierced, or a saddle that makes your horse run faster? What will it be?”

  The Nub pulled back his shoulders and stood tall. “I don’t want any of that crap. I want to make something to disguise myself and three other people.”

  “Ah, Nub. You’re about to do something naughty or something stupid. Probably both. I’d love to guess, but my soup is getting cold. Details, Nub! I can’t deal if I don’t have details!”

  The Nub’s voice came back loud and steady. “That’s not important. The important thing is that I know what I need, and I want you to make me an offer.”

  Oh, this shit will never do.

  “My goodness, you’re a tough negotiator, Nub. Pass my congratulations on to the Murderer. Now go suck on your toes, you rusty speck.”

  The Nub disappeared as if he were a ball Fingit had hurled away.

  “Yes, of course you had to slap him down.” Sakaj’s voice quavered a little. “He’ll come back.”

  “No doubt. I just had to show him his place. Definitely.” After a few seconds, Fingit realized he was still nodding, as if nodding would make it true. He sighed and looked down at the soup. “Well, should we eat while we’re waiting?”

  The Nub’s voice drifted from the blackness. “Fingit! I apologize. Please deal with me.”

  Fingit winked at Sakaj, and she smiled back. He pulled the voice closer and saw the Nub again. “Now my soup is almost certainly cold. I’m offering you another chance only because of your youth and inexperience. Now, details.”

  “All right. I need to rescue my friends without getting killed, and I want to make magical disguises. Good ones. I don’t want them to blow up.”

  Fingit whispered to Sakaj, “A disguise? Can we do something to him with a disguise?”

  “Maybe,” Sakaj whispered. “Could you trade him a disguise that won’t work against certain people, or not against animals? We need his enemy to capture him.”

  Fingit smiled so that the Nub would hear it in his voice. “Well, that’s simple enough, I suppose. How much power do you want?”

  “I… I don’t know.”

  “How do you plan to make this thing?”

  The Nub got quieter. “I don’t know that, either.”

  “What kind of object do you intend to create?”

  “I don’t know what kind of object it would need to be.”

  Fingit whispered to Sakaj, “Oh, this is precious. He doesn’t know a damned thing. I could sell him an enchanted horse turd that he has to hold between his teeth for as long as he wants to be disguised.”

  Sakaj suppressed a giggle.

  Trying not to laugh, Fingit said, “Do you know anything at all?”

  “I have to make it out of cloth or leather, because that’s all I’ve got,” the Nub mumbled.

  “Hmm. Don’t you have some grass and dirt as well?”

  “Yes! Will that help?” The Nub sounded as excited as one of those little dogs that jumps on your leg.

  “Not even the tiniest bit.” Fingit bit his lip and pounded his leg with his fist, and he managed not to guffaw.

  The Nub sagged. “So, there’s nothing I can do?”

  “Well, I don’t think that a real sorcerer would give up just because of a few obstacles. I can help you, although it will cost a little more.”

  “How much more?”

  “That all depends on the deal you make. I’ll provide you the knowledge to make what you want, as well as the power you need, which is one one-thousandth of a square, by the way. Make me an offer.”

  The Nub looked around, even though there was nothing to see but the darkness enveloping him. “You make the first offer. Please.”

  Fingit whispered, “Won’t make me an offer. This is that damned Murderer’s fault.”

  “The important thing is what you’re going to give him,” Sakaj whispered, laying her hand on Fingit’s shoulder.

  Fingit grabbed her hand. “Are you sure the Freak will trade?”

  Sakaj lay her other hand on top of Fingit’s. “I promise it. The Nub may get a little bruised, cut, or burned, but he’ll live.”

  “All right,” Fingit whispered. “I’ll sell him a disguise that will fail just before his enemy comes into view. That’ll keep him from getting snatched by the wrong people. Or killed someplace along the way.”

  Sakaj smiled and squeezed Fingit’s hand.

  Fingit said, “Nub, I’m in a hurry, so let’s not waddle around like walruses on a
dance floor. I’ll make a good offer, you make your offer, and if we can’t make it work, then we’ll call this off. Those are my conditions.”

  The Nub laughed, and it almost sounded convincing. “Make your offer, mighty Fingit.”

  “You will become the most hated man on this continent.” Fingit winked at Sakaj.

  The Nub stamped his foot. “Come on, Fingit! Be just a little bit serious, all right?”

  “Make your offer to me and make it fast!” Time pressure. That’s what will trip him up.

  “Some dogs won’t like me. Small dogs.” The Nub held his palm less than a foot off the ground. “For a year.”

  “How unimaginative. Very well, you won’t become the most hated man, but people will dislike you. On every continent.”

  “Nobody will loan me money for a year,” he countered.

  Fingit chuckled. “Come on, nobody will loan you money now. Random people will despise you for no reason, but only for a year.”

  The Nub chewed his lip, probably unaware that Fingit was watching him. “They will ignore me, but not despise me.”

  “Oh, you wish them not to despise you? Fine, maybe they’ll just dislike you. Do you think your little feelings can stand it if they dislike you?”

  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 the Nub, but then one of the other men whacked the drunk with a club. He fell like a hailstone. The man with the club said, “Sorry, lad. Will’s the sweetest fellow you’d ever meet, except when he’s pissed as a loon.”

  “I’m sure he’s a regular plum pudding.” The Nub backed away, nodding, smiling, and scanning the alleyway. “Thanks for the help.”

  Fingit pointed up at the window. “Look! The Farmer is turning the corner!”

  “Do you see? Everything will transpire as I foretold it.” Sakaj wheezed and panted.

  The Farmer paused behind the Nub, co
cked his head at the young man, and then kicked the Nub’s legs out from under him. A moment later, the Nub’s enemy had dragged him up by the collar and slipped a dagger from his belt.

  Fingit held his breath. The Nub hung almost limp, writhing no more effectively than a baby. The Farmer raised the dagger and smacked the Nub on the back of the neck with its round pommel. The Nub fell to the ground.

  “Perfection!” Sakaj wiggled her head with joy. “Just as I planned.”

  The Farmer directed some other men to carry the Nub away.

  Sakaj grinned. “I’m sure the torturing will begin soon.”

  Fingit thought Sakaj might have been rubbing her hands together, if she still had hands to speak of. “It does seem to have worked out pretty well.”

  “Now for the river spirit.” The Goddess of the Unknowable shifted the window back into the mountains where the river spirit paced back and forth in a manner most unlike a supernatural being. “Spirit, attend me. You are called by She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.” Sakaj’s words flowed from her thoughts, clear and resonant.

  The blue spirit, in the perfect form of a woman, appeared without delay. “Yes, Mighty Goddess?” Water dripped from her, and her hair floated above her shoulders. As her breath came quicker, the water droplets fell slower and slower until they hung in midair.

  “Your little sorcerer boy is about to be tortured to death in that city.”

  The spirit paled two shades of blue.

  Sakaj said, “I will help you save him if you perform a service for me. Two hundred miles from here, at the headwaters of the Fead River, two boys are lost in the woods. When I give you leave, you must kill them. Make it brutal. Wait until I give you a signal. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” the spirit said in a calm voice, but her hands were shaking.

  “You may go.”

  The spirit left so quickly she almost seemed to disappear.

  “Now I shall present these facts to the Freak and strike a deal with her.” Sakaj closed her eyes, tried to take a breath, and gagged when her half-inch-thick lungs refused. She wheezed a curse and gazed upward. The window in the sky above her swirled and swept for nearly a minute. Then it settled on a rude camp in the lee of a brilliant stand of maple trees. A tall, rangy woman with deep-black skin handed two dead rabbits to a bald, fat man and then squatted beside a campfire.