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right away. The step would be tactically sound, yet strategically foolish.

And I couldn’t afford such missteps, having only just gotten a taste for life. I felt as if all these years the blood in my veins had been running cold, like a dead man’s. And now, at long last, it frothed and boiled and urged me toward great, heroic feats. Absurd though it was, I felt powerful enough to turn the whole world upside down.

Then again, a cripple only yesterday didn’t need much to feel euphoric today.

But if I lost this, that would be the end. Whatever miracle may occur afterward, it wouldn’t be enough to raise me from the dust. It would break me beyond repair.

I was even more adamant on protecting my Order-endowed gains than whatever the ghoul was keeping up his sleeve.

I needed it to survive.

“Hey, Beko, are there any traders in the fort? Somebody who sells clothes, thread, stuff like that?”

“You can buy anything, as long as you have the money. But I don’t have anything. Nothing at all,” the ghoul grasped at his chest nervously, where he kept his mysterious treasure and his newly acquired knife.

I handed the pickaxe to Beko.

“Here. This one’s yours as well.”

“Mine?! Really, truly mine?!”

Oh, how little some of us need to be happy...

Chapter 16 The Art of War, Carps and Catfish

No Stat Changes

With each step taken, the degree of Beko’s resolve dropped. It had been close to zero already, so the moment we started our ascend up the path, it plummeted into the negative.

“Maybe we should wait until it gets dark?” the ghoul offered a timid suggestion. “We could hide in the driftwood where you got the handle for the pickaxe.”

“Hide? As I understand, you had already tried hiding, but that didn’t work out too well?”

“Well, yes. It’s not a good hiding place. They always find me. Those stinkers.”

“No, Beko, that won’t do. Did you forget? We’re strong and dangerous guys. And strong and dangerous guys don’t hide from small fry.”

“Carps can get pretty large,” the ghoul objected.

“Sure, they can get large and fat. That’s a good thing. I like myself a fat juicy carp. And you will, too. Besides, we must deliver the wild leek now if we want porridge for dinner.”

“We still have some bread and lard,” said Beko in a dreamy drawl. “We can finish it before they can it away. The Carps are there, past the second turn. They often play in that area while waiting for me.”

“Why there? Why don’t they come to you at the pebbled beach?”

“They would have to carry the baskets all the way from the beach, but this way I bring them nearly to the wall myself. It’s convenient.”

“We’re going to have a little fun with them,” I promised ominously. “Hold on to your pickaxe and look like you’ve got a thirst for blood that hasn’t been satisfied in a century. But you’re about to fix that.”

“But I don’t want to drink blood.”

“Pretend that you do. Like you’ve always wanted to. They want to take what’s yours, remember? Only they don’t know who they’re messing with. You want to bite into the throat of Little Tatai. That smooth, sweet throat of a child. And then break Satat’s skull with the pickaxe. You want to smash it hard enough for his eyes to pop out of their sockets and hang there by a thread. Another blow and Tashi goes down, his face bloodied as he howls with pain and collects his teeth from the ground. And there’s Jakos, looking at all this and feeling his pants become wet and heavy.”

“If I break Satat’s skull, he will die. And Ash will put me on a stake for murder. Or hang me under the bridge if he’s in a good mood.”

“Don’t kill anyone. Merely imagine that’s what’s going to happen. As you look out before you, that is the picture you need to see. You must believe that we can tear these Carps to pieces. And not even Ash is going to punish us.”

“Why wouldn’t he punish us?” Beko sounded doubtful.

“Because today he’s in the best possible mood.”

“That doesn’t sound like him.”

“Plus, he’ll be too scared to mess with me.”

“Why would he be scared?”

“Because I can read and write. And I have my clan magic, called the ‘blacklist.’ Whoever I put on it is going to die a long and painful death.”

“How?” the ghoul inquired fearfully.

“First, he’s going to start rotting. Cadaverous worms will come out and start devouring everything that sticks out of his body: fingers, nose, ears, hands, feet. Then—”

“Enough, I don’t want to know the rest,” Beko grew pale, something that I didn’t think his chalk-white skin could do.

The heartfelt conversation helped to while away the time as we walked. And as we finally rounded the corner, I saw the Carps—a group of teens playing some weird game, tossing short sticks over three longish ditches. The four of them were so engrossed in the process, they didn’t notice us right away. Maybe we make a run for it? We could be fifty feet up the path by the time they realize what happened.

No, that wouldn’t work. My Agility was well below Satat’s. If Beko had a hard time escaping him, I would be all too easy to catch.

Besides, you can’t win a war with perpetual retreats.

So I quickly dismissed the thought to either speed up or slow down, but kept the same pace as we approached the four teens. Taking advantage of their backs being turned to the path, I executed a cunning kick to the back of the knee of one of the older three. I added another one as he stumbled out of balance, right in the center of his gray-trousered behind.

The combo worked

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