Chapter 13
He put the sword back into its shimmering silks—and then, experimentally, tried to draw it again. It wouldn’t move. It might’ve
been sealed fast in cement. He laughed. It was a wonderful trick.
When next he looked for Stu Finger, the troll had moved closer and lifted a splintered thigh bone.
“Do you wants old Finger to hit him a stroke or two?” Finger asked. “Mr. Wren? To be sure he dodn’t make any more fuss?”
“No, Stu, thank you. What I would’ve liked is not to have had spiders crawling all over me.”
“Finger took you the way was easiest.”
“Finger hoped we’d both fall into that hole so he wouldn’t have to hold up his end of the deal.”
“Never in life! Finger knew a bit of dance and a bit of sport wouldn’t perturb the likes of two bold gennlemen such as yourselves.
And the nig-nog—”
“Call him that again and you’ll see my ugly side. But not for long, because you’ll be a pile of stone.”
“Oh, yes, yes, of course, sorry, sorry, wery sorry, my deepest apologies,” Stu Finger said, and his crude, gaping mouth convulsed
in a parody of a grin. “Svangur forgets what bosom buddies you both were. Like brothers, really. Well, like Cain and Abel,
anyway.” Colin’s brow creased. It vexed him, to think he was being teased by a thing that lived under a rock. The troll went
on: “Finger only meant to say, he was a clever cove, now, wannit he? I couldn’t have spared you our little pranks. He would’ve
been on to us in a flash if it had been hard on him and easy on you.”
Arthur sprawled on his side. His eyes were open and staring.
At the very end, he had muttered Gwen’s name and then recited a bit of Psalm 23.
It made Colin sad. There would be no green pastures for Arthur, no still waters, and no house of the Lord.
For all his plans and precautions, he would never leave this hole in the ground.
But then, no man was promised anything better.
The idea of burial had never suited Colin.
Which reminded him. He reached into the casket and picked up the little vial.
A few mouthfuls of what looked like merlot slopped around inside.
“Over a thousand years old,” Colin said. “And it looks like it was only just spilled.”
“There is the blood of a woman who seen the gates to parydise opening before her, the blood of a woman who forgave him who
kilt her, even as he twisted the knife. If you splashed suma that on the nig—on your best-loved friend, even now, you might
bring him back. Even now, it might not be too late for him. There is no wound it cannot heal, except for wounds of the soul,
which may only be cured by a penitent life, such as is unsuitable to fellows like us.”
“And a single swallow will make a man younger?”
“A taste of her life’s blood would turn the clock back ten years and give you the stiff pecker of your randiest youth.”
“Good. Dying might be fine for people eager for the next life. But I find this life perfectly adequate to my needs.”
“Finger was promised trade for trade, like for like,” the troll said, his black tongue falling out of his mouth to lick wetly
at his chops.
“Yes,” Colin said, and it was his turn to tease now. “You can take the Surrealist’s Glass out of Arthur’s pocket if you like.
He won’t stop you.”
The troll’s shoulders sagged in dismay. “What am I supposed to look at with that? I live alone in a hole. You promised Finger—you
swore to bring him such power—”
“Yes, all right. Don’t snivel. It makes you even more unattractive than you already are.
” Colin sank to one knee and opened his backpack to remove a Sony Vaio laptop, matte black, brand-new.
The little antenna, which could use a cell signal to access the internet, was already plugged in, the red LED blinking to show it had no signal down here.
“Here you go. Top-of-the-line, as promised.”
“And we can play Doom on it?” Stu Finger asked, drumming his fingers on his chest and looking at it anxiously.
“It does so much more than that. You can watch internet videos with it, no lag,” Colin said. “Wait till you discover cam girls,
Finger.”
Svangur took the laptop in both arms with a sigh of ecstasy.