The Hob's Bargain

moved but the purple cloak flapping gently in the wind. Then the skull of a horse, bitted and bridled, slid off the narrow bones that held it in place. It dangled momentarily, held up by the reins. But the finger bones that held the reins fell apart. They all came apart then, the whole lot of them, one after the other. An army of bones in uniforms lying on a field of yellow flowers; bones that shifted to ashes and blew away in the spring wind.

    I CLOSED MY EYES AGAINST THE ANGRY VOICES, ONE shouting over the top of another so none was heard. At last Koret’s bellow rang over the rest, shouting them down until they were silent.
    â€œKilling the mageborn is barbaric,” said Tolleck the priest in his smooth baritone. “The One God does not demand it—he condemns the bloodmages and those who call upon their power from death. But a man…or woman cannot help how they were born. To condemn them for it is wrong.”
    â€œBrother Gifford did not agree with you,” called someone from the crowd. “He had more experience as a priest than you.”
    â€œBrother Gifford is not here now,” thundered Tolleck in a voice I’d never heard from him. It almost made me look, but I was afraid I’d see something else. There was power in his voice, and it subdued the crowd.
    Calm and forceful, the priest continued. “It is not for you to condemn someone who has committed no crime.”
    I saw the priest’s face, proving that I didn’t need open eyes to see. The thought of living with these constant visions for any length of time made me wish Tolleck would be quiet and let them hang me.
    â€œDrink this, Pest,” said Kith, putting a glass against my chattering teeth.
    I swallowed, tasting apples and poppy juice.
    â€œShe needs rest. My home’s just around the corner, and that lot won’t bother me.” It was Cantier’s voice, rough and unmistakable.

    I WOKE UP ABRUPTLY, STARTLED BY THE STRANGE SURROUNDINGS—THOUGH when I gave myself a moment to really look around, I realized I was lying on a makeshift pallet in the main room of Cantier’s house, which smelled faintly of fish. It was dark but for the banked embers in the fireplace. From the loft overhead came the soft sounds of sleeping bodies. I wondered how he’d talked his wife into allowing me here.
    By the darkness and by the silence of the streets, it was sometime past midnight. I was still wearing my dress, but it took me a moment to find my boots. As quietly as I could, I let myself out the door and into the street.

    T HE HOME I SOUGHT WAS MY PARENTS’ HOUSE RATHER than my own. I needed to cling to something familiar, somewhere safe. The house was dark and empty when I got there. I had nothing to light my way into the interior, so I fumbled my way into the main room.
    Ma’s bride chest was highlighted in the faint wisp of moonlight leaking through the broken oilskin of the main window. Someone had taken an axe to it, leaving its contents scattered on the floor. I wondered if it was the same man who destroyed the furniture in my home, or if the raiders specialized in hacking helpless furniture to bits.
    There was blood on the floor, and I lost the humor I’d been trying to summon. I turned away. A blanket lay in a rumpled heap in the corner of the room. I snatched it up and wrapped myself in it, though I didn’t believe anything could make me warm again. I sat in the corner where the blanket had been and stared into the night.

    I STAYED AT THE HOUSE UNTIL LATE MORNING, GATHERING what I could use from the things the raiders had left. There wasn’t much. The house had been stripped of food, weapons, and anything anyone could use to pack things in: sacks, baggage, backpacks, even bedsheets. I don’t know how the blanket I’d used came to be overlooked.
    I found an assortment of Caulem’s clothing. Father’s clothes were gone. I folded my brother-by-marriage’s shirts and pants carefully and left them beside the remains of his cot. Perhaps his parents would want them.
    My hands stopped as I folded the last pair of pants. I was tall for a woman, though skinny. Caulem had been a growing boy, almost as tall as he would have been as a man, but thinner. Caulem’s pants would fit me.
    I stood and stripped my clothing as quickly as I could, exchanging it for boy’s trousers and a loose-fitting shirt. I had to tighten the drawstrings around my ankles and