Skillful Death by Ike Hamill

was uncontrollable, and Constantine hopped to regain his balance on his good leg.
    Behind the men, one of the horses whinnied and reared, nearly dragging the bearded man off his feet. The tip of the snake’s tail had resumed flicking back and forth, apparently unaware of the death of its master.
    The man with the long light hair laughed and stepped closer to Constantine, nearly within the reach of his stick.
    “We’ll take the snake if we wish, young Forestling. You won’t live to see the moon if you don’t tend to that leg.” He pointed down to Constantine’s hanging leg.
    When Constantine looked down to see the blood dripping from his leg, he saw it mixing with the snake’s venom in the dirt. The mixture was foaming and congealing into a gelatinous mess. The man leaned forward and snatched the stick from Constantine’s hand.

    ♣     ♢     ♡     ♠

    Malcolm: I’m sorry to stop you again, but this is crazy. How old were you?
    Constantine: I think I was seven. I still had the knot on my head from where Sasha hit me, so I must have been seven, yes?
    Malcolm: I’ve heard you talk about Sasha before. Who was he? Your friend?
    Constantine: You’re not supposed to know that yet, but yes. Let me just think for a second to be sure. The Midwife branded me seven, then I got into the fight with Sasha, then the lion and the snake. Yes, it makes sense. Well, it’s in order, but there might have been more time between.  
    Malcolm: So you could have been older?
    Constantine: Maybe a year or two, but no more than that. Let’s say I was less than ten.
    Malcolm: By ten, you’d fought both a lion and a giant snake. That town must have never heard of anything like you.
    Constantine: You’re getting ahead of my story, but at the risk of a double-negative, the answer is no. The town had certainly heard of something exactly like me.
    Malcolm: I don’t understand.
    Constantine: Then let me continue.

14 THE PLUMBER

    D OM LOOKED BACK TO his hands to see what they were doing. They had none of his attention this day. The problem wasn’t the work. He loved plumbing new construction. When working on new construction, he had the ability to do everything absolutely perfectly. He need make no concessions. No, the problem wasn’t the work, it was the windows. The rough-framed openings of this new construction overlooked the back courtyards of three big dwellings. In the middle one, she worked.
    Dom didn’t know her name, but he could spot her form from three blocks away. The way her shoulders curved into her back would catch his eye. The profile of her calf stuck in his brain. The delicate taper of her fingers haunted his dreams. He took a deep breath in through his nostrils as if he could pick her scent from the wind, like a bear, after which he was named.
    His hands were spinning the tool inside the lip of the pipe, cleaning out any burrs. He’d worked the tool on the end of the pipe so long, daydreaming about the beautiful woman, that he’d created a dangerously sharp edge. Dom glanced over his shoulder and then smiled at himself. He was no apprentice; there was no master to spot his mistake. He could run as fast as his feet would carry him in any direction and he wouldn’t find anyone with knowledge about copper plumbing. That fact was his blessing and his curse. Being the only practitioner, he had no competition. However, with nobody else to prove his worth, he always had to fight to assert the value of his work. The homeowners would simply continue hauling buckets of water if they deemed his price too steep.
    This time when she walked by, he forced his hands to stop.
    He took a deep breath as she carried a pail of milk back to the dwelling.
    Dom set down his tools and brushed the debris from his clothes.  
    Outside, away from the dust and smells of construction, Dom found a beautiful day. The morning’s mist melted away and the sun warmed the rocks of the path up to the pond. He circled the water to a sheltered