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Brath laughed now, a desperate, maniacal laugh. “Am I that lowborn—farmer—that even a golem would be preferred as a son-in-law?” “If you were a prince whose wealth could buy the whole province, your behavior toward my daughter would not be tolerated.” “I don’t know about that—you already made a pact with a devil, to bring that monster to life.” “You were the curse on my family, Brath, not the golem. And I wrongly accused it of your crimes. I did try to kill it.” “The witch’s magic was too powerful for you!” “No. It was her magic that I used to kill it. But Nakra’s magic is not the only magic, I have learned tonight. Now, you will answer for your crimes.” “I loved your daughter!” They were the last words Brath ever spoke. Zedec reaped once—twice—three times and it was done. He gave Brath’s body to the river. “You did not love my daughter,” Zedec said as the corpse was swept away, turning and turning in the water. “That thing—if it can feel anything—felt love for my daughter. Enough to bring the dumb brute back, even after its name was washed away.” And Zedec washed the blade in the river and rode back to his farm. Zedec did not sleep that night, but kept vigil on the porch. The golem did not move from the place where it stood a few feet from the broken tomb, right where it had dealt Brath a blow that sent him reeling to the ground and saved Sarah from a fate—he could not bring himself to think about what would have happened. How had he been so blind to what was going on in his own family, his own farm? How did Sarah know the golem’s name? Why did Nakra’s un-naming not work? The next morning, just before dawn, he saddled the pony again and went once more to Nakra’s hut. He found her removing debris that the flood had deposited in her garden and tossing it back into the shrinking stream. He quickly related the events of the night to her, leaving out only his killing of Brath. To his discomfiture, she seemed completely bewildered by his story. She could not even answer his questions with riddles; for several minutes she was at a loss for words. All she could offer, finally, was a groping speculation or two. It sounded to Zedec as if she were thinking out loud. “How did your daughter know the golem’s name? Well, how did I know its name? I did not make it up; it came to me. The golem cannot speak; I did not give it a voice. Your daughter, unless I am very mistaken, cannot read runes. Yet perhaps she heard his name the way I heard it—though she was never taught to receive such knowledge.” “That would be magic,” Zedec said. “Silly fool farmer, that is exactly what we are dealing with.” “But why,” Zedec repeated his other question, “did the golem not die?” “Perhaps I did not mix up the potion right—though that is my least favorite explanation. A more likely one is that it worked: you severed your bond with the golem. But the golem did not die, so perhaps there was another bond—a bond that had somehow formed between the golem and your daughter.” “Is it not dead, then? It has not moved since it broke from the tomb and smote Brath.” “Have you tried to command it?” “No.” “I don’t think he will hear your commands anymore, Zedec. But if Sarah tells him to do something, who knows? When you get home, have her try. Perhaps you have unwittingly forfeited the power over him to your daughter.” She cackled. “An inheritance—a surprise for a suitor if it is included in the dowry—though some prospective husbands may not want the gift of a golem!” Zedec, eager to get back home and see how his family fared, paid his parting respects to Nakra and made ready to leave. Before he spurred his pony off, Nakra said, “Oh, and Zedec Jacobson. The next time you have a body to dispose of, bring it to me. I can always make use of the parts.”
He sped away, shuddering, the cackling laugh of the witch faintly
ringing in his ears.
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