Servant of a Dark God by John Brown

going to get the bounty. Oh, no. He thought of the tales of the heroes who had hunted Sleth. Not all of them were from the ranks of the high and mighty. Maybe a little Koramite would win a spot in the chronicles.
    He could see himself purchasing that fine, Kishman’s bow, made of wood, horn, and sinew, wrapped at the ends with yellow and scarlet thread. There wasn’t a people who could make better bows than the Kish. But why settle for a bow? He’d get himself a horse.
    Talen drew up a third bucket, emptied it into the hoggin, and replaced the lid.
    He addressed the old sod house. “Every soul worth his salt will be hunting your clay-brained trail. You’re going to end up a boiled cabbage no matter what you do.” He paused. “You should have never begun with the dark art. But turn yourself in to me and you’ll avoid a wicked beating. That’s a promise you’ll not get from any other quarter.”
    There was no answer, only the voices of Ke and Nettle in the distance.
    He realized then if the hatchling were an angry thing, it would kill Talen and stop his mouth. But it was either stupid or scared, for it had thrown away a perfectly good chance. Or maybe it was waiting for its master, the one that slew the butcher’s family in the village of Plum.
    That thought sent chills up his spine. That was a creature no lone Koramite would take. But he wasn’t going to let the fear of such things overcome him. It obviously wasn’t here now. And standing at the well all day wasn’t going to do him any good either, so he walked to the house with as much ease as he could muster and fetched the figs.
    When he came back out he paused. “You’re a fool to refuse my offer,” Talen called. He hefted the hoggin onto his shoulder, gave the farm one last glance, and headed back out to the fields. This time Blue and Queen came with him, Conroy bringing up the rear.
    On the way he began to think of ways to catch the hatchlings. He wasn’t going to be able to corner them like normal animals. Oh, no. He was going to need something entirely different.

    Talen distributed the figs and passed the water to Ke. Nettle sat on the trunk of tree Ke and River had just felled. Next to him leaned the two-man saw. A strand of Talen’s hair had come out of the leather string Talen had tied it with. After Sabin’s yank this morning, Talen was about ready to have Nettle hack it all off with his knife. But he undid the string, gathered his hair up, and said, “You said you wanted to do something real? Well, we’ve got ourselves a whale of an opportunity.”
    Nettle plopped a fig in his mouth. “What do you mean?”
    Talen faced the three of them. “I spotted the trouser thief.”
    “Somebody actually stole your pants?” asked Nettle.
    Ke rolled his eyes.
    “Not somebody,” said Talen. “The hatchling. And we are going to get the bounty.”
    Nettle blinked.
    “What are you talking about?” asked Ke.
    Talen related what had happened back at the house.
    “We need to alert the bailiff or territory lord,” said Nettle.
    “No, no. That’s exactly what we shouldn’t do. We don’t want some idiot Mokaddian getting the reward.”
    “Excuse me?” said Nettle. “I don’t think Mokaddians were the problem this time.”
    “I’m not talking about you,” said Talen. “You know that isn’t what I mean. Think about what people will say when a Koramite brings them in.”
    “Except we’re not full Koramite,” said Ke.
    “That isn’t the point,” said Talen. “We have an opportunity.”
    “Did you see their faces?” asked River.
    “There was only one of them.”
    “But did you see more than a leg?”
    “No.”
    “Then it could have been anybody. It could have been a beggar. Could have been some stranger passing through.”
    “Nobody can run that fast.”
    “Come on,” said Ke. “We’d all love to catch us one. But it takes fifty to a hundred men to conduct a proper hunt.”
    “Not to catch children,” said Talen. “Besides,