The Hob's Bargain

in the hob’s blood, and lifted my hands. Blood pooled in my cupped palms and dripped to the ground.
    â€œI see you’ve been busy, speaker,” said the earth spirit, leaning nearer. “Look at what you’ve become.”
    I cried, for he said what I already knew. The tears turned to rain and thunder, and I became a pikka, feeding on the bodies of my dead.

    I AWOKE IN THE EARLY DAWN WITH THE TASTE OF FRESH blood in my mouth, and threw up on the ground. Shaking, I opened Duck’s stall and took a mouthful of water from the bucket suspended on a hook near his manger. The wailing in my mind continued unabated.
    Luckily I hadn’t fouled my clothes. Ignoring the noise in my head, I used a forkload of hay to clean up the mess I’d left. I was just finishing when Kith walked through the door.
    â€œIf you’d asked, I’d have loaned you Torch,” he said.
    My mind was too busy to allow for clever replies, so I just nodded and leaned against the wall. I must have looked really bad, because he walked up to me and put his hand on my face.
    â€œNot sick,” I said, “just tired.” My face felt stiff, and my mouth felt cold and slow. I wanted to bathe the stink from my soul.
    â€œRescuing Poul from a…what was that word? Pikka?”
    I nodded, regretting it almost immediately. The movement brought a rush of pain to join the shouting.
    â€œMerewich swears it’s a wolverine, though he’s never seen one with curly, black fur.”
    I grunted this time; it was safer than moving my head.
    â€œWhere were you going in such a hurry that it couldn’t wait for the rain to let up?” He stepped close to me, touching my collarbone with his hand, staring into my eyes. I wondered if my pupils were pinpoints like the fetch’s. “Aren, what’s wrong?”
    I don’t know what I would have told him, but just then the alarm bell rang. Kith hesitated, then turned on his heel and ran.
    I could just manage to walk, if I did it slowly. I set the pitchfork aside and picked up the cedar staff from where it had fallen on the ground while I slept. One end was black with dried blood.
    By the time I left the stable, there was a fair crowd around the bell. I edged toward the front. Merewich, looking old and frail, stood several paces before the villagers. Behind him, Koret waited silently.
    Facing them…us, was Rook mounted on a big, nervy gray. On each side of him were two men, also well mounted. Rook had a nasty cut on his lower lip and a bruise on the side of his face.
    â€œâ€¦bought our services in the war,” he explained. “But the lord was killed, and the side we fought for was losing. The other side had no need to hire, and ours had no money. We knew—the captain knew—if we continued, we’d be dead in a month at the outside. So he took us raiding.”
    Rook took a deep breath and continued. “It was something he’d done before, though not recently. There were enough former bandits in our midst that those of us who wished to protest were outnumbered. There weren’t many.” His horse shifted restlessly.
    â€œBastards!” spat Talon. The smith broke free from the crowd and took several running steps forward. “Killed my brother, who wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
    Kith slipped out of the crowd behind Talon and touched the big man on the shoulder, whispering something to him. I couldn’t tell what it was, but Talon relaxed a little. Perhaps Kith had blamed Banar’s death on the wildlings.
    Rook’s gray tossed his head, dancing a bit. When Rook saw Talon had finished, he continued in the same calm voice. “When he saw this valley, the captain decided we’d stay here. It was small with few defenses. He fancied himself lord of the manor, I think. Before anyone could change his mind, the earthquake hit, and we were trapped here.”
    â€œIf we agree to accept your offer, what guarantee of behavior do we have?” asked Merewich in the long silence following Rook’s narrative. “Many of us have lost family to you.”
    â€œThe hob suggested we camp outside the town for now,” replied Rook. “We’ll send no more than two men at a time into the village unless there’s an alert.”
    â€œAt which time you fight for us,” Merewich stated, the doubt in his voice obvious. “Let me ask those whose families suffered the most from your predations.