Words Like Coins Read Free Page B

pecksie? You send me to death?”
    “No!” Mirrifen exclaimed in dismay. That part of Jami’s story had horrified her. She shifted her weight and the pecksie backed to the edge of the lamplight, dragging the club with her. It was too big for her to wield; she was obviously taking it out of Mirrifen’s reach. “I would never do that. Well, not unless you did something evil to me first.”
    “Pecksies don’t kill babies.”
    “But they do eavesdrop.”
    The pecksie tilted her head at Mirrifen, frowning.
    “Pecksies listen in when others are talking,” Mirrifen clarified.
    She shrugged one shoulder. “People talk and if pecksie is near, then a pecksie hears. And knows to be afraid.”
    “Well, you don’t need to fear me. Not unless you do me an injury.”
    The pecksie frowned at her. “You gave me milk. I know I am bound.”
    “You said that. Not me. I didn’t know that you would be bound by a simple favor. I didn’t intend to do that.”

    “And this?” The pecksie held up her hand. Mirrifen’s fever charm dangled from it. “Why you do this?”
    It was Mirrifen’s turn to shrug. “I saw you were hurt. Once I wanted to be a hedge-witch, to make charms like that. So I made one for you.”
    “Dangerous. It was wrong. I had to fix the beads. See. Yellow, then green.” The pecksie tossed the little charm at her. By reflex, Mirrifen caught it. She studied it by lantern light and saw the change the pecksie had made.
    “It was working when I left you.”
    “Worked. Just not as good as it could. Lucky for me, it not do harm. Hedge-witch has to be careful. Precise. Still. It worked. Worked better after I fix it.”
    Mirrifen examined the revised charm. “How did you know how to fix it?”
    The pecksie folded her lips, then said briefly, “I know things. And again, I am bound.”
    “How do I unbind you?” Mirrifen asked.
    The pecksie stared. When she decided she had understood Mirrifen’s words, she spoke. “You can’t. I took favor. I am bound.”
    “I didn’t mean to bind you.”
    “I bound self when I took milk. Didn’t have to. Could have died.” Thoughtfully she rested a hand on her belly. Perhaps she thought of her unborn child.
    “May I have my club back? In case rats come?”
    “Rats already came.”
    “What?”
    The pecksie gestured around at the darkness. Mirrifen lifted the lamp to expand the circle of light. She gasped.
    Over a dozen dead rats littered the dusty ground around the well. Small arrows, no thicker than twigs, stood up from them. Pecksie hunters moved silently among them. Small black knives winked in the lantern’s light as they skinned and butchered. “Good hunting here,” the pecksie observed. “Last night, I scout. Tonight, we hunt. Better.”
    “Better for me, also.” Mirrifen’s eyes roamed the peculiar scene. She had not heard even a squeak during the slaughter. Even now, they butchered in silence. “They are so quiet.”
    “We are pecksies,” the pecksie said with pride. “We hunt in dark, in silence. No words needed. Words are like coins. To spend carefully, as they are needed only. Not to scatter like humans do.” She looked aside and said carefully. “The rat blood is not enough. My folk need water.”
    “I will give you some. To thank you for guarding the well against the rats.”
    “We did not guard well. We hunted. I alone ask for water.”
    Mirrifen was unlatching the well hatch. “What about the others?”
    “If you give water to me, I give to them,” the pecksie admitted reluctantly.
    Mirrifen had begun to lower the bucket into the well. When she heard the splash, she speculated aloud, “If I give water only to you, only you are bound. The others receive the water from you, not me.”
    “As you say,” the pecksie grudgingly replied.
    “So shall it be. I have no desire to bind pecksies.” But even as she spoke, she wondered if she were foolish. If she withheld the water and forced them to beg for it, could she not bind all of them? And