Page 53 of Blacktail

“There is something in your wound,” Blacktail said when it was done. “A metal stone, I think.”

“Yes,” said the Hider. “I feared it was that.”

“You have risked much in my aid,” Blacktail said.

“Once already I tell you,” said the Hider. “This my honor.”

Down below, the prey watched them, at first in wide-eyed silence, then, after a few breaths, with loud, piercing screams.

“Is that the wizard you spoke of?”

“Yes.”

“You know, for a two-legs, you’re not bad at this. I think you’re speaking better as well.”

“Really?”

Blacktail swished his tail.

“Thank you,” the Hider said, quivering like a happy pup. “Do you hurt again? It can make the pain go away.”

The prey was staring at them with wide, horrified eyes, insane eyes. It said something to the Hider in the language of men.

“What is it saying?”

“It…Lord, I have lost the words. I cannot speak both the true language and the tongue of reason at the same time. But to guess…it knows we speak. Before, it was afraid—of my hurting, of death, perhaps of the sight of Lord Hunter as well—but to know we speak together is worse. To know hurts it in the mind. I think it begs to die.”

Blacktail padded up to the prey, his fangs bared. He tasted the blood flowing from the bite wound in the prey’s shoulder. “It will get its wish, I think.”

At the feel of Blacktail’s soft tongue, the prey screamed and screamed. Finding no relief in that, it twisted on the ground, tried to bury its face in the dirt. Over and over, it spat nonsense words into the dirt.

“Make it stop that,” Blacktail said. “The sounds of that language sicken me.”

“Yes, Lord.” The Hider kicked the prey hard in the head, bringing fresh blood. It cried out in pain, then fell mostly silent.

“You said it has magic to take away pain?” Blacktail asked. He tried to keep the desperation from his voice. Mostly he succeeded.

The Hider wagged his head up and down. “Oh yes.”

“Then do it,” Blacktail said. “Be quick, if you can.”

The Hider went to the hindquarter of Car and withdrew a small black bundle. He walked up to the prey and tossed the bundle down near its head. It seemed not to understand, so the Hider pointed at Blacktail’s leg. The prey understood then, and cried a little more. But when the Hider cut it, it babbled for a moment in the bad language. Even Blacktail could tell it had yielded.

The prey withdrew the paraphernalia of magic from the bundle and cradled it to his chest. It crawled on its knees through the sand and desert rocks and knelt in front of Blacktail. The scent of its terror rolled out in great waves, thick and rich. The magic thing was long and pointy, like a metal thorn. It glinted in the moonlight, then spat a little fluid up at the moon. The prey reached out tentatively and touched Blacktail’s hind leg. It paused then, panting, terrified. It could not meet Blacktail’s gaze, but it turned to the Hider with wet, fearful eyes.

The Hider stepped up, stopped the prey’s hand with a touch. “My Lord? This thing in the prey’s hand is a small magic. It will make your pain go away. But to do this, the prey must stick you.”

“A bite?”

“No. Only as you might be poked with a thorn or a cactus. There is no poison. It will not harm you. The magic is very strong—soon after, the pain will fade.” The Hider met Blacktail’s eyes. “Please, Lord…when the thorn pokes, you try not to bite? This one can fix your leg. And”—the Hider gestured at Blacktail’s wound—“magic prey beasts are tough to come by.”

“Ah,” Blacktail said. “I see. Very well. I will not bite.”

When it came, the pain was absurdly small. The worst of it was a sensation of swelling as the thing spat its magic. He watched a bubble grow under his fur, then diminish. Warmth washed out through his body, like a good meal after days of hunger. For the first time since he could remember, he felt good.

“Better?” asked the Hider.

“Yes,” Blacktail said. He found it a struggle to focus his eyes. “Strong magic, indeed.”