It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a threatened man in possession of a good fortune, but no means of defending himself, must be in want of a hired killer. Or two. Tiller, however, was not in possession of good fortune. Not yet at least.

  Norris said, “Oh, it’s so vulgar to discuss such things, but, my good man, needs must.”

  Theodric added, “Indeed, old boy, I am so terribly regretful for the need of such a lowly discussion, but goblin does not live by bread alone...”

  Norris finished, “and the ladies at this establishment do not accept bread for their services!”

  The two erupted in laughter, a soft bird-like chortling that fit their appearances no better than their voices or vernaculars.

  Tiller said, “I… I don’t know if I can afford you guys. I do need something done though. What do you charge?”

  Norris grimaced, as if pained, as if they were speaking about something crude, like their genital diseases. “Best to just put it to bed, old boy. Nothing for it but it, that’s what I say. We require a hundred coins each to perform a task of this magnitude.”

  Theodric nodded. “The individual at the heart of the issue is a stone-banded fighter. Not a simple task. Indeed, not simple at all. We would be assuming the most dreadful of risks.”

  Tiller just breathed, “I can’t pay that yet.”

  He deflated. Bonk would be back in less than a month and he knew, beyond any doubt, that he would expect a portion of the profits once he saw the expanded farm. Every step Tiller took towards getting home would be pared down by Bonk’s predations if he couldn’t stop him. But two hundred coins.

  Norris leaned in, “Yet? You said yet, my boy?”

  Tiller nodded. “Not yet. I’m planting new crops soon. In a harvest’s time, maybe two, I could pay it… but he’ll start taking a chunk of everything I make so I don’t even know…”

  Theodric said, “My good man, we’re not opposed to instalments.”

  Norris added, “At a small additional commission of course. Usury isn’t the most tasteful of exploits, but I don’t think you’d argue that such patience is not deserving of its own regard.”

  Tiller said, “No, no, not at all. How much commission?”

  Theodric said, “Ten per cent per month. Starting now, unfortunately, I am sorry to have to inform you. But if you accept us into your employ, then we would be most satisfied to extend to you the courtesy of paying us over two, even three months.”

  Norris said, “At the nominal interest rate to cover our inconvenience, of course.”

  Theodric said, “Of course.”

  Tiller looked from one to the other. Pod had slumped back to sleep, leaning against him. He raced through the mental math. It would work. It would easily work. It would hardly put a dent in his reinvestment cycles. And he doubted Bonk would charge him less, even over the course of three months. It was instant net gain. He’d have felt like an idiot to do anything else.

  “Deal!”

  Norris said, “Oh! Jolly good! Jolly good, old boy. Is there a deadline?”

  Tiller said, “I guess, before, hang on, is a month twenty-eight days here? Yes? Um… before eighteen more days have gone by. Could you do that?”

  “Ample time! Ample time, my boy!”

  “More than necessary! A most sufficient time frame. Consider the job done and the heart no longer beating. Proof of accomplishment?”

  Norris said, “It’s customary, though quite ghastly, to provide the client with some severed component of the target’s anatomy.”

  Theodric said, “The head? That’s the most popular choice. Though we’re not opposed to-”

  Tiller waved his hands, “No! No no no. I don’t need anything like that. I’ll take you guys at your word. If you say the job is done, then I won’t doubt you.”

  “Oh, you humble us. Deeply and sincerely.”

  “You shan’t regret extending your trust to us, old boy. Now, if you’ll forgive us. We have companions waiting on the far wall who are most anxious for our return.”

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  They both shot him a glance then, most lecherous and goblin-like, that made him shudder slightly.

  The goblins got up and started to move away. As they went, he heard one say, “I don’t like that Bonk fellow at all. I can’t say I’m anticipating the event with much vigor.”

  The other replied, “Indeed. Most unenamoured with the fellow. I haven’t been so excited since we were clay-banded, brother dearest.”

  Tiller’s brows rose at this, watching their backs drift away towards the gaggle of elven prostitutes on the opposite wall.

  He gave Pod a dig with his elbow. “Hey, Pod. Psst! Hey!”

  “Wassit? Wassit, now?” Pod grumbled.

  “Hey, can we, like, increase our bands?”

  “What? Fuckin’… Course we can. What kinda question is… oh, yeah… Yeah, we can increase our bands.”

  Tiller shook his head slightly. “But everyone’s a clay band.”

  Pod said, “Aye, increasing is hard. Lifetime’s work for most folk. Truth is most folk never make the jump at all.”

  As he said this, he vaguely waved his own bracer at Tiller. He tapped a bony blue finger on the bracer and Tiller could see a channel running the length of it. Pod’s was about half, maybe a little more, filled with a faint green light, like a thermometer. Tiller glanced at his own and could see nothing but emptiness.

  Tiller said, “But they’re Stone-banded. Bonk is. I’ve seen a couple of higher ones.”

  Pod slumped back into the couch, clearly not interested in the subject. “Takes achievements, me boy. The Twins there probably killed somethin’ that should’ve killed them. Other folks make a masterwork, or the best fuckin’ beer you ever tasted… It’s about escalatin, doin more than you did before…”

  Pod began to emit a rippling snoring sound. Tiller just stared in wonder into nothingness, feeling the soft buzz of the beer, the simultaneous exhilaration and gut-gripping anxiety of having hired two killers. “Shit… I just took a hit out on a guy…”

  Then he dreamed, just for a few moments, of the band on his wrist becoming iron, or gold, or something brighter and shinier. How would a farmer do that? Grow the biggest pumpkin? Harvest the biggest crop? He wondered.

  Then. “Shit! The fucking time! I’ve got to get my shit together!”

  Glick was very slow to make the bargain that Tiller had thought would be easier. He haggled quickly with the goblin, apologising that he needed to run another errand, not revealing that he wanted to take the rest of his money to Glubb’s shop.

  Glick had axes as well, but none as cheap as the most economical offering at Glubb’s shop. These were, in fact, clearly finer tools. Tiller’s mind wandered for a moment. He had no doubt the more expensive axes would enable him to get more work done and faster. That was how this crazy world seemed to work. Like a fucking video game. But the pricier axes were not a little more expensive. Those would be decisions he could contemplate another day.

  “Alright, alright. To do you a favor, and ’cause I can see you’re an ambitious fella, I know you’ll be back again. I’ll make you a one-time offer. You can have the twelve for twenty-three. I’m closing up shortly, so take it or leave it.”

  “But that’s just one coin off?”

  “Can’t do any better than that, take it or leave it.”

  Tiller tensed. If Glick was about to close then Glubb might well be as well. “Fine. I mean, thanks. Sorry, I’m in a rush.”

  He dropped the coin on the counter and grabbed the seeds, dashing off. “Sorry to run, nice doing business, hope to see you again next time in town!”

  He sprinted for Glubb’s shop and gasped as he saw the bufo dragging the last barrel of merchandise inside from his exterior displays. The shutters were down, only the door remained open.

  “Glubb! Glubb! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to be so late, I just wanted to get one thing!”

  Glubb eyed him with the annoyance of a toad who had a very needy and naked wife waiting at home for him. Tiller shuddered and eyed the sky as if to indicate that that wasn’t a thought he’d had spontaneously on his own.

  Glubb said, “In a bit of a hurry, newcomer.”

  Tiller said, “I’ll just be one moment. Quick transaction. I just want to get an axe.”

  Glubb’s warty eyebrows rose. They fell again as Tiller said, “The cheap one.”

  The bufo seemed to consider whether or not the transaction would be worth his while. After a moment he shrugged and said, “Come on in.”

  Tiller dashed over to the barrel filled with tools and brought it to the counter. Glubb said, “That’ll be twelve then, and may he serve you fine.”

  Tiller froze, wincing. “Oh… shit… that’s the thing. I don’t quite have twelve coins left.”

  Glubb’s expression grew disinterested more than it darkened. But it darkened a little.

  “How much have we then?”

  Tiller reached into his sack and produced the remaining coins.

  Glubb’s eyes scanned his palm. “I’m sorry. Ol’ Glubb is up for a bargain any time, but I can’t let it go for ten and three-quarters.” As he spoke the bufo leaned a little closer and sniffed. His lips pursed and his expression darkened further.

  Tiller’s heart sank. He’d bought three beers. He’d have bet Glubb could have been talked ’round with a little more coin in his hand.

  “Glubb, listen, please, I have a harvest coming in. I’ll be back in a little more than a week with more to spend. I’ll tell you what, don’t even discount it, just let me owe you the difference.”

  The bufo recoiled in a barely noticeable manner. It seemed Glubb was not interested in extending credit to farmers who spend their investment capital in taverns.

  “Glubb, please. I need the axe to clear ground for growing. And to fix my… um, house I guess. I’m good for it, I swear. I had, um, a business meeting. A wet lunch. You know how it is, wine and dining. I hate the expense but you know how clients can be.”

  The bufo remained unmoved. He was clearly impatient for nude-time frolics with his bulbous toad-lady love.

  Tiller scrabbled for an idea. He felt so stupid. After a moment he deflated. Looking forward to another week of sleeping in the rain, he said, “Fine… Could I just… grab some seed packets then and I’ll let you back to your wife.”

  Glubb seemed startled, narrowing his eyes. Tiller realized he wasn’t meant to know about his disrobed and impatient amphibian love. He stuttered… “I assume. Successful guy like you couldn’t be walking about unhitched, could he?”

  Tiller returned to the street. Maybe it was for the best. More seeds meant more turnaround. And he did have the twins to pay now. He sighed, heading down the street towards the tavern. He had Pod to collect. Then a long walk home, part of which would now be in the dark.

  Then he had farming to do.