Death's Collector

by Bill McCurry

  “And the other kills everything in sight.” Ralt looked at me sideways and lowered his voice just a touch. “Except he doesn’t kill prisoners who ought to be killed. The ones who might kill us in our sleep.”

  “Two sorcerers! We might live to see home!”

  Desh grinned and took their backslaps with goodwill.

  “I snatched this sword for you, Desh,” Stan said. “It’s a nasty-ass Denzman sword, but you take it till we kill a man with a better sword for you.”

  “We’ll teach you all about fighting.”

  “Our sorcerer won’t get his other leg hacked off for lack of fighting prowess!”

  Desh said, “Thank you, fellows. I really am touched. If you take off that dead man’s tunic and shirt and trousers, when we get time, I’ll make you both cloaks that will keep you dry in a waterfall.”

  Ella and I heard this entire exchange as we saddled our horses, and I realized that now all three men were the same type of person. That would be the “getting the hell out of the way and letting other people worry about themselves” type. I suspected that yesterday Desh had been a “pushing other people out of the way” type. He might have lost something important when he traded away his memories of his mother. Losing memories carries unpredictable risks.

  “Limnad,” I said. “Take us to that short, fast path we were chatting about yesterday.”

  I’m glad I had commanded Limnad to lead us to this secret passage, even if it did bring her closer to freedom by releasing another band. I would never have found the damn thing myself. The route may have seemed more confusing than it really was, since she probably took us down some unnecessarily circuitous paths, just so we’d never find it again without her. Or, maybe she was just enjoying the dumb, lost looks on our faces.

  Limnad led us off the trail right away, and we crossed six streams before our horses warmed up. We rode most of the morning while the trees got taller, then sparser, then smaller, and they finally faded away, leaving us on sloping, grassy fields. We rode until we saw a few sharp, brown hills. Limnad took us down between two hills into a defile that soon was branching like a maze. By midday, we crested another rise and saw hills in all directions.

  “It’s a straight path from here.” Limnad pointed southwest. “We’ll follow this valley and rejoin the trail before sunset. You have saved a lot of time. I hope you spent it contemplating what your liver will look like when I show it to you.”

  “I’m sure it will have great artistic merit. Lead us, O spirit, and we shall follow and not talk bad about you.”

  The valley was smooth, as far as rocky wilderness valleys go. We rode fast, and we paused only once to change mounts and drain ourselves. I indulged in some rough estimation, and I began to hope that we were making up even more time than we’d lost yesterday.

  An arrow smacked into the ground right beside me. If it had hit me, I would have deserved it for daydreaming as I rode between tall hills suitable for hiding men who could shoot and throw things at me. I hollered a warning to Ella and the triplets as I goaded my horse uphill toward the ambush.

  It was a good thing the hill wasn’t dauntingly steep, and better that the ambushers weren’t firing from all the way at the top. The arrows kept whizzing, but only a couple came close to hitting me. Either these were terrible bowmen, or they were mighty anxious to avoid sticking arrows into my horse. She would be a prize for any bandit or tribesman.

  Limnad laughed somewhere behind me. “You commanded me to lead you through a fast, short path, but not a safe path!”

  Ten bowmen stood behind rocks halfway up the slope, all shooting at me with nice, relaxed motions, since they had no concern for taking cover. On the theory that these thugs coveted my mare, I slid out of the saddle and put her body between them and myself. I ran alongside her as she climbed the hill until I neared the line of bowmen, and then I let her run free.

  I drew my sword as I scrambled toward the nearest man, and I cut off the closest part of him, which happened to be his right hand. Now that I was among them, they could hardly fire at me for risk of hitting their friends. The next man couldn’t decide whether to shoot me or draw his sword. I stabbed him in the belly while he was deciding. He grabbed at my arm and said, “Help me!” as I pushed him aside.

  The next fellow had drawn his sword, but he was so incompetent he should’ve stayed with the bow or thrown a rock or offered me his sister. I stabbed him in the throat and moved on.

  The next two men faced me together, swords drawn. They both lunged at me, and while they were in motion, I got smothered by nothingness.

  I knew where I was right away, and I knew who had probably brought me here. Harik had brought me to the trading place.

  “Harik, you divine turtle’s asshole, what do you want? I was about to kill two men for you. If you don’t care about that anymore, you won’t mind releasing me from my debt, will you?”

  “Hush, Murderer. I have brought you here for a remarkable, indeed unprecedented, opportunity.”

  “How many times have you offered me an unprecedented opportunity? At least a dozen.”

  “And each one more extraordinary than any that preceded it. We are not alone. I have invited another sorcerer, the Farmer, to join us.”

  I had never bargained with the gods in the company of a strange sorcerer, but as long as he or she didn’t bumble around like a well-meaning rhino, I couldn’t see much risk. After all, no one could strike any deals for me except me.

  A different voice said, “Hello, Bib. As mentioned before, I do appreciate your name! Simple. So few people value simplicity in these times, don’t you think?”

  The voice kicked me in the gut like a mule with a grudge. I tried not to let that shock leak into my tone. “Hello, Vintan. I didn’t expect we’d speak again until I rammed my sword through your chest.”

  “Yes, this eventuality must leave you quite disappointed, even frustrated. Yet it is, without equivocation, a pleasurable event for me. Once we became foes, I hardly supposed that we might someday converse, apart from the odd imprecation or two as I destroyed you. Rumor provided that you are a singular killer of extraordinary ability, but I never supposed you to also be a sorcerer!”

  “I play the thumb whistle too. All this way south I’ve been wondering, why are you such a pathetic, child-murdering reptile?”

  “And a charming conversationalist as well! All North Men are smug, but I confess that your arrogance is captivating, even for a villain as famous as yourself. Erasing it from the world will marginally diminish my satisfaction when I slay you, everyone you love, and everyone who happens to be standing nearby. I will do this not out of spite, you understand. You represent a peril that must be eliminated with an overwhelming, unambiguous stroke.”

  “I’m not a North Man any more than you. I’m not arrogant, either, unless you consider it arrogance to be better than you and every other man south of the Blue River. Vintan, I understand war, but I swear you love cruelty more than you love your own testicles. If you have any.”

  “Sterling praise from the slayer of hundreds.” He sounded like I’d just given him a chest of gold, a magic sword, and the prettiest girl at the fair.

  “If you admire me so much, I’ll be glad to cut your tongue out and autograph it.”

  The obsequious chunk of mud dared to laugh.

  “What do you plan to do with that little boy?” I asked.

  “His Highness, Prince Prestwick? I would hesitate to describe him as little. I have already taught him four places to stab a man that will slay instantly.”

  “There are seven places that do that.”

  “You are correct, but he isn’t tall enough to reach the other three.”

  “If you love kids so much, why did you chop that little girl’s head off, you no-dick son-of-your-own-whore-sister? I’m going to stab you four or five times just for that.”

  “Little girl, Bib? How can you display such outrage when you don’t even know the child’s name?”

  Harik s
poke up and saved me from a hypocritical silence. “While I would be enchanted to listen to this all day, I will soon have obligations elsewhere. Existence does not run itself, I assure you. I have arranged a trading opportunity that should be profitable as well as diverting. Welcome to the auction!”

  “You expect us to bid?” I pushed as much contempt into my laugh as possible.

  “That indeed is the idea! Well done, Murderer. Everyone says you’re dim, but when pressed, you can be almost clever.”

  Vintan said, “The entire concept is idiotic beyond belief.”

  “I disagree,” I said. “I have no trouble believing how idiotic this is. Harik, do you have a meat grinder you’d like me to stick my willy into, as long as we’re doing stupid things?” I began fading myself back into the normal world.

  “Goodbye, Murderer. How unfortunate that your foe will now acquire this power uncontested and use it to obliterate you and your friends.”

  I pulled myself back into the nothingness. “Mighty Harik, I’d be overjoyed to bid against this galloping skag for whatever prize you depraved vultures are offering.”

  Vintan said, “I find that I must agree. Attempting to sail against the wind is exhausting, as well as inelegant.”

  “Now that you are done pampering your egos, here are the terms. Three squares of mystical power will go to the highest bidder.”

  Vintan could hurt us a lot if he possessed three squares that he could just snatch out of the air when he cared to. Unless I wanted to be burned alive, or have thirteen trees fall on me at once, I needed to keep the power away from that rat-suck bastard—even if I never did anything with it but fatten up cows in a hurry.

  Harik asked, “What are your offers?”

  I remained quiet, and so did Vintan.

  “Hello? Have you both suffered apoplexy at the same moment?”

  Since it was poor practice to make the first offer when trading with a god, I sure wasn’t going to make first offer against Vintan. The Denzman finally chipped in. “In the interest of efficiently and stylishly concluding this business, I offer to kill ten perfectly innocent people within the year—ten that I would not have otherwise slain.”

  Harik sighed. “A disappointingly meager bid, but I suppose it’s a beginning.”

  I could have bested Vintan’s offer by promising to kill twenty innocent people, but I didn’t want to go down that path. I found killing innocents distasteful. More significantly, I’d never be able to outbid Vintan, since it seemed his people expected him to do a lot of indiscriminate killing. I went the other direction.

  “I offer that on three occasions, an ally will betray me.” I know that sounded like a reckless bid, but history had proven two things to me. Betrayal was going to happen anyway. Everybody hated it when an ally proved unfaithful, but it happened often enough that nobody was shocked. Also, I was a slippery son of a bitch, and treachery hasn’t killed me yet.

  “A similarly pathetic bid,” Harik said. “I had expected more from both of you. Maybe your most vigorous years are past, and instead of sorcery, you should consider farming turnips.”

  “Droll,” Vintan said. “Within the year, I will kill ten persons who are not only innocent but have also sworn to serve me.”

  That personal touch was a step up on Vintan’s part, and I needed something just as personal in my bid. “In addition to the three betrayals I mentioned, for the next year, I’ll secretly prevent Desh from learning any more sorcery.” I would hate to do it to the young man, but being misled by me was better than being destroyed by Vintan.

  “I will accept that as a marginally higher bid, Murderer, but only because I look upon our past work together with fondness. Farmer, it is your bid.”

  “Very well, let us end this. Within the year, I will kill ten children.”

  “Indeed?” I heard the grin in Harik’s voice. “That hardly seems a powerful offer considering the history you already have with children. However, I will allow that you have topped the Murderer’s last bid.”

  If I wanted to win, now was the time to sacrifice, and Ella was the place I could make the most personal sacrifice. More than anything else, she wanted to save the prince.

  “I will prevent Ella from rescuing the prince.”

  “Not quite enough,” Harik said. “Will you kill the prince to prevent his rescue if necessary?”

  “I sure as hell will not.”

  “Will you kill this Ella woman to prevent her from effecting the rescue?”

  “I… might. I would if there was no other way at all.” I couldn’t imagine any situation in which I’d have to kill Ella to botch the rescue. At the worst, I could whack her on the head and carry her off.

  Harik was silent for a while. “I find us in a situation that could become interesting, should we address it properly. I will swap your bids. Then you each can choose whether to accept what the other has bid—with a modification or two.”

  Vintan said, “That is a foolish proposition. We have proffered our bids, and you cannot reassign them.”

  “But I can. This is my auction, and I am the God of Death. You are repulsive in my eyes, and I can destroy you at my whim. You may either play by my rules, or I will hurl you back to your squalid home.”

  I didn’t see anything good that could come out of arguing with Harik on this. He could slap us around like bugs and lizards all he wanted, and we had to take it until we could skitter off under the door.

  “The Murderer promised to prevent the prince’s rescue. Farmer, logically, you shouldn’t object to that, since your people intend to hold the boy hostage to force the North Men and their diseases to stay away. You have even developed a fatherly affection for the horrible little creature, despite your well-earned reputation as a depraved butcher. So, your bid will be to prevent the prince’s rescue, and you will kill him to accomplish it.

  “Murderer, the Farmer’s bid was killing ten children within the year. However, I recognize that your heart still carries a few ridiculous tender places. Such killings would be enormously difficult for you, despite your homicidal impulses. Therefore, I will not ask you to stand behind this bid of ten child-murders. Murdering five children will be quite adequate.”

  I wondered whether I could kill children to make this bargain. Then I told myself that, of course, I wouldn’t do it. But I had to admit that my first thought was to wonder whether I could do it, so I suppose that some part of me entertained the idea. “I’ll kill ten innocent men instead.”

  “No. If you don’t agree to children, you have failed to bid. Vintan?”

  “What if I refuse?” Vintan asked. I thought I heard a touch of anguish, which made me smile. I hoped the son of a bitch would suffocate on his own tears and dismember himself from sorrow.

  “You would then forfeit, since the highest previous bid was from the Murderer.”

  Now Vintan provided us with a period of silence. “I agree. I will forestall the prince’s rescue by killing him. However, I need kill him only if he is in imminent danger of rescue.”

  “That is correct. Nicely done, Farmer. You will find three squares at your disposal upon returning to your world. I should warn you that the Murderer will not be as easy to kill as you might suppose just because you can employ sorcery. Regardless of magic, he has an enormous thirst for making people dead, and if he decides that a person should die, then that person will have a very hard time staying alive.”

  Vintan said, “My thanks, mighty Harik. Were I able to drive a thorn from the Tree of Regret through your right eye, I should certainly do so.”

  That image made me realize I had never once, during my many visits with the gods, tried to murder somebody while we were bargaining. I had always gone bargaining by myself or with friends, and who can kill a god? This was a different situation. Of course, this appeared to be a place of nothingness, but if I concentrated on slicing up everything in every direction, maybe I’d get lucky and cut the horrible bastard’s throat.

  I imagined drawing my sword and
sweeping the blade across my body in a devastating cut. As my imaginary blade moved, light rolled into existence as if the point of my sword were drawing aside a curtain.

  I found myself outdoors and standing on a space of bare dirt. Trees surrounded it, tall and slim with pale bark, full of curled, blue-green leaves that whistled as the breeze swept past. The air smelled like fleece blankets and hot bread. Sunlight drifted down around me, comforting and richer than cream. I almost started crying.

  A woman’s voice said, “I think the Farmer will crush him before sunset. You’ve ruined him, you idiotic eunuch.”

  That was Gorlana’s voice. I looked behind me and saw a large, multitiered, white stone gazebo that opened onto the dirt patch. A woman and two men sat in the gazebo, looking down at me.

  “I agree. He’s shaken.” That was Fingit speaking. “Look at him spinning around with that ridiculous sword. He must have been here a hundred times, but he looks as shocked as the first time a girl showed him what she didn’t have.”

  I had solved a mystery over which countless sorcerers had argued, thrown hard objects, and passed out under various pieces of furniture. The place of trading indeed rested within the Home of the Gods.

  I looked behind me and saw Vintan standing a few paces away. His face showed arrogant patience, as if he didn’t see or hear any of this, including me. It was the perfect time to kill him, and I would have, but I was so astounded by what I’d discovered that I almost dropped my sword.

  Thirteen

  I had heard the gods speak many times, but I’d never actually seen one. When I was a boy and first began dealing with divine beings, I imagined that they must also be divine to look upon. I envisioned muscles powerful enough to wrestle mountains and faces so beautiful that glimpsing one would make you burst into flames. That all changed once I heard the petty, moronic, pompous river of ass-drool that could flow from their mouths.

  Eventually, I formed a mental image of each god to accompany his or her words and tone. I saw Harik as a balding, pinch-faced bookkeeper trying hard to appear smooth, wearing poorly cut silk garments. Gorlana was a voluptuous blonde, beautiful but always dressed in gowns so tight they were a bit nasty. She wore enough jewelry for five goddesses, which was enough jewelry for fifty women, and she tended to get distracted looking at her own baubles. Fingit was a slightly hunched, bespectacled, redhaired man with powerful arms and a work apron covered with untidy pockets.