“Oh shits,” Edyon murmured, skidding to a halt.
The demon sprang toward him. It was stunningly fast and Edyon knew he was about to die. The demon leaped and Edyon fell backward, tripping over his own feet as the creature surged through the air—
And was taken in the chest by a harpoon.
The impact of the blow knocked the demon sideways, and its huge body landed heavily in the snow beside Edyon.
I’m alive! I’m still alive!
The demon screamed again, pulling the harpoon free and staggering to its feet.
“Fuck! Fuck!” Edyon scrambled back.
Another harpoon flew from the trees and struck the demon’s stomach. And then another caught it in the chest again, bowling it over. This time it didn’t get up.
“Thank fuck! Thank fuck!”
A big man—Gravell!—a harpoon in each hand, ran out of the woods and stood over the demon as if waiting to see if it was going to move again. The girl appeared too. She took the harpoons from Gravell, and he took a bottle out of his jacket.
March took a step toward his harpoon, but Gravell merely said, “If you pick that up, you’re a dead man.”
March went still. He looked over to Edyon, who was trying to get up but his legs wouldn’t move. He’d nearly died. Nearly died twice. And lying on the ground before him was a demon. And—Oh fuck! Oh fuck!—he was still alive.
Gravell and the girl crouched down over the demon, as if waiting for something. Then a wisp of pink smoke started to rise out of the demon’s mouth and into the upturned bottle that Gravell held. The wisp grew thicker, becoming redder and then purple and orange. Soon the bottle was full of swirling smoke, but more and more seemed to pour out of the demon and none escaped. It was as if the bottle was sucking the smoke up.
Finally the flow became paler and thinner and then there was no more. Gravell put a stopper in the bottle, kissed the glass, and handed it to the girl. He pulled one of his harpoons from the demon’s body and walked toward Edyon.
TASH
NORTHERN PLATEAU, PITORIA
IT WAS a mess. Three men were dead and now Gravell was advancing on Edyon.
March took another step toward his fallen harpoon.
Tash warned him, “If you try to get the harpoon, you’ll only make Gravell madder. All we want is our smoke back.”
“No,” Gravell snarled, “that’s not all we want. I want my demon smoke back and I want his balls on a platter.” Gravell pointed at Edyon.
“I’ve seen them, Gravell, and I honestly don’t think I’d bother,” Tash said.
“This isn’t a joke, girl. He’s a thief. He needs to be punished.”
Edyon held out his hands placatingly. “Gravell, sir, I am truly sorry I stole your demon smoke. If you want to kill me, I can’t stop you, but I suggest you do it quickly, because I think I might be about to die of shock anyway.”
Gravell didn’t move and Edyon continued in the most pathetic voice Tash had ever heard. “I know it was wrong, and I have sworn that I will not steal again. I’m a changed man.”
“You mean you’ve given up thieving and moved on to murder,” said Gravell, gesturing to the bodies of Holywell and the sheriff’s men.
“We were only defending ourselves, sir. We are not violent men.” Edyon struggled shakily to his feet. “I’d like to make amends for the trouble I’ve caused you.”
Tash said, “Perhaps if we had the smoke back, that might reassure Gravell of your good intentions.”
“It’s in the pack on the back of the pony.”
Gravell snorted. “What pony?” And, sure enough, there was no pony to be seen. Tash knew there had been one, though; they’d followed its tracks for the last five days. Gravell knew it too but seemed determined to make Edyon wet his pants.
Edyon looked around, flustered. “It must have run off when the fighting started, but it won’t have gone far,” he pleaded.
“Tash, go and find this pony—if it exists. I’ll watch our two thieving murderers.”
“We can look together,” Edyon said.
“Tash can look. You can get on your knees and wait.”
Tash ran off and quickly found the pony tracks, and, only fifty paces farther on, the pony itself, quietly rubbing its haunches on a stunted tree. She approached it cautiously, but it was more tired than afraid, and she stroked it and spoke to it a little. In its pack was the demon smoke. The bottle still looked full of swirling purple smoke, but from the weight she could tell there was only about half left, and she grimaced. She wasn’t sure how Gravell would react to this latest development.
She led the pony back. Edyon and March were kneeling in front of Gravell, their hands held in the air. Gravell loomed over them like a mountain, arms folded round a harpoon, two more beside him with their points in the ground.
“I’ve found the pony,” Tash said, and immediately felt foolish, as that was rather obvious.
“What about the smoke?” Gravell asked.
Tash held up the bottle.
“How much is left?”
“Umm, maybe half.”
“Half?” Gravell roared.
Edyon yelped. “I used it to help March. He was wounded.”
“What do you mean, help March?”
“The smoke, sir. I used it to heal him.”
“Is everything that comes out of your mouth a lie, boy?” Gravell said this as he swung the harpoon so that the wood hit Edyon’s arm. Edyon screamed in pain.
March started to get up and Gravell landed a backhand slap that sent him reeling, blood dripping from his nose.
“If you move again without my say-so, next time I’ll use a harpoon. Get back on your knees.”
March spat on the ground and stared up at Gravell with venom, but he did as he was told.
Tash ran forward. “Hurting them won’t bring the smoke back.”
“Maybe not, but it’s making me feel better.”
Gravell jabbed the butt of the harpoon into Edyon’s shoulder. “You stole my smoke, dragged me halfway across the country, and got me tangled up with the sheriff’s men. I need repaying. Fifty kroners for the smoke you stole and fifty kroners for my trouble.”
“We’ll pay you for the smoke we’ve used and nothing more,” March snapped. “Twenty-five kroners.”
It was the first time Tash had heard him speak. His accent was strange, not like anything she’d heard before.
“And you have twenty-five kroners? Not that I’m accepting it’s enough.”
“We’ll get it.” March stared such an evil stare that she thought Gravell might hit him again.
“I have money. I have money.” Edyon spread his arms. “Not fifty kroners, but you can take what I have.” He rummaged in his coat and pulled out his purse.
Gravell took it and tipped the money out. “There’s not even ten kroners here.” He shook his head.
Edyon said, “Fine. Fine. You can have this.” And he pulled a gold neck-chain from beneath his jacket. “It’s worth a hundred kroners at least.”
“No,” March said. “Not that. He can’t have that. Holywell has money. And his knives are worth a lot. You can have them. Not the chain.”
Tash went to look at the gold chain. It was beautiful, but she knew they shouldn’t take it. She remembered that Edyon hadn’t taken it off, even in the bath. It obviously meant more than just its weight in gold. The smoke wasn’t of personal value to Gravell. It wasn’t fair. She went back to Gravell and spoke quietly.
“We don’t need the chain. We can sell the knives in Rossarb. We’ll get a good price for them there. Really this is a good deal. We have the knives, what’s left of the smoke they stole, and this other bottle. You’ve not even had to dig a pit.”
“I like digging the pit.”
Tash tried hard not to sigh. “Well, we can come back after Rossarb and you can dig the best pit ever. By then we’ll be well fed and rested thanks to the money from all this smoke. Then we can head back to Pravont, repay Flint, and eat as many pies as we can. Sounds like a good summer to me.”
Gravell rolled his shoulders. “I’m taking the chain and the knives.”
“You always told me not to be greedy.”
“I’m not being greedy. I’m taking something he really values. It’s the chain or his balls.”