The Hob's Bargain

everyone except Danci avoided me as if I had the pox.
    Once we set out on the road, the animals gave us little trouble, seeming almost as relieved as I to leave Auberg’s shadows behind them. By the time we reached the lower slopes of the Hob, the children began to play and laugh.
    Danci deposited her youngest in Kith’s lap without asking and rode her horse to me.
    â€œI hadn’t realized what it was doing to us, staying there among the dead,” she said.
    I watched Kith struggle to hold the squirming toddler in front of him and guide Torch at the same time. But, interestingly enough, he didn’t try to give the boy back.
    â€œIt would be enough to give anyone the creeps,” I agreed with a smile.
    I’d noticed the lift in my own spirits when we rode out of the valley. Comparing the rascal who held Torch’s reins while Kith held him with the mopey, whiny child at the inn, I thought it was more than just the silent town that held us in thrall.
    â€œGram always said death magic leaves its mark on the land.”
    â€œDeath magic?” asked Danci softly.
    I nodded. “I don’t think Auberg is a healthy place to be.”

    T HE HOB HEARD THEM BEFORE HE SAW THEM. R EFUGEES , he thought, watching the ragtag bunch climb out of the shadow-shrouded valley. Looking past them, he wondered what had caused the fog of ill that grew thicker as it stretched away from the mountain. Bits and pieces still clung stubbornly to the party riding onto his mountain.
    He was exhilarated from the chase he’d given the pack of grims—they wouldn’t be coming back to his mountain anytime soon. He rather regretted that; truth be told, they made great sport. He wished there were another pack around—he was in the mood to play.
    The big horse the woman called Aren rode saw him and whickered a greeting, though the one-armed man’s dun gelding, who saw him as well, chose to ignore him. Aren looked hollow-eyed and tired.
    As suddenly as that, he decided to give her something to think about that might take the shadows from her eyes. He skittered down the tree and wandered among the riders. The knowledge that either Aren or the warrior—both touched by magic—might detect him added to the fun.
    Just yesterday he wouldn’t have been able to hide himself from any of them in the bright light of day, but the mountain was waking up from its long sleep.
    The hob rubbed the red gelding’s chest and slapped him lightly on the haunch as he passed, sending him bouncing forward a few steps. Half-fey herself, the minstrel’s white mare cast a merry glance and snorted at him. He grinned back. Mischief that mare was, much like himself.
    Toward the back of the party, an aging herd dog limped soberly at the side of an old man on a mule. The old man kept up a constant reassuring murmur that belied the worry on his face. Worry he should, for the hob could see the shadow that clung to the dog’s tail and hindquarters. The dark of the valley beyond had used the animal’s age and infirmities to attach itself like a burr.
    The hob stooped and ruffled the dog’s fur, washing it free of shadow—and managed to clear a bit of the age-related problems as well. The dog whined his appreciation and rolled in the hob’s embrace, licking his face with frantic gratitude. Dogs were like that.
    â€œHere, now, Cary, what’s up with you?” The man stopped his mule.
    At the sound of his master’s voice the dog threw himself out of the hob’s care and leaped up to lick at the mounted man’s hands before taking off to run a frantic circle around the entire group—for all the world as if he’d not been a trained cattle dog for a decade. The hob laughed, and one of the two spotted milk cows answered him.
    Grinning, the hob turned to see the one-armed one approach him as surely as if he could see him. The child who rode in front of the grim warrior saw the hob quite clearly, of course. The babe clapped his hands and caroled encouragements so clearly that the hob’s smile widened in answer. Here was a child after his own heart. He did a couple of back flips for his audience of one, then turned his attention to the soldier.
    This close he could see the workings of the bloodmage the harper had spoken of yesterday while the hob spied upon them—though he couldn’t tell how deeply the damage went. Whatever had been done to the man made him aware that the