The next day, I woke before sunrise. The reason was simple: I needed to avoid Mark. I didn't know how he'd react if he saw me, so I decided to play it safe. Better to give him time to cool off. Besides, I had an appointment that offered a chance to learn something genuinely useful.
Hunting, navigation, moving through dense forests, tracking—skills like these could prove invaluable in this world. Only the toughest survive, and I intended to be one of them.
And, of course, more meat in my diet. Just the thought brought a broad smile to my face.
As I left the house, everyone inside was still asleep, and the village lay quiet and serene.
Ahead of me was an hour-long walk to old Jan's cabin.
Considering the knowledge I might gain under the guidance of the grizzled hunter, one knife seemed like a small price to pay. Even if it had been forged by a dwarf.
As for Ksawery's death—it didn't bother me at all. I never liked him, and he had a habit of stealing my food. That alone was enough to make me feel somewhat pleased with what had happened. There would certainly be silent days in our home now, and Mark would be giving me side glances. But there was no way to prove I was at fault for his death. And the truth was, it wasn't my fault. I might even say that he saved me. If it weren't for him, I would have approached the pheasant. I didn't even want to think about how that would have ended.
After some time, I saw the house where I'd struck my deal with Jan the night before. In the morning light, it didn't look as mysterious as it had in the evening. As I approached, I noticed old Jan sitting under the porch, skinning an animal that resembled a hare. Despite his old, sinewy hands, his movements were confident and practiced. You could tell he'd done this hundreds of times.
"Good morning," I said as I stepped under the porch.
...
Silence. Was this old grouch seriously going to ignore me?
"Good morning, Jan," I repeated.
"Talk. What do you want to buy?" he growled without looking up. "I'm busy."
"It's me, Baltazar."
He turned his head and gave me a single, indifferent glance.
"What do you want?"
"I came to learn."
"I don't teach pups," he replied, returning to skinning the hare, using Mark's knife.
"What about our deal?"
"What deal?"
I wasn't sure if the old man had been so drunk last night that he remembered nothing, or if he was just a bastard who had used me.
"We struck a deal last night!" I shouted. "A knife and a pheasant for training under you!"
"Boy," he replied calmly, "don't yell in my ear."
Could anything in this world possibly go my way?
"Even if there was a deal... there isn't one anymore."
...
"Go back home, kid, before I change my mind and tell Mark about your antics yesterday."
I felt utterly helpless—like only a six-year-old might—and my biggest problem was Mark's missing knife. If he found out, he'd kill me.
"Keep the pheasant, but please give me back the knife," I pleaded.
"It's a good knife," he said, matter-of-factly.
Well, congratulations on discovering America.
"I've grown fond of it."
What now, genius? Got any brilliant ideas left up your sleeve?
"How much do you want for it?"
"But I want this one."
Is this prune's favorite pastime pissing people off?
"How much is it worth?" I asked hesitantly.
"I'd say quite a bit," he mused, before flashing a wide grin. "But just for you, boy, the starting price is four short-eared hares."
"Two."
"Let's make it three. You've got a week to bring me three hares."
"And then you'll give it back?"
"Depends on my mood," he chuckled maliciously. "But if you don't... I'll have a little chat with Mark."
I spun on my heel and left. I couldn't stand being in the company of that desiccated cucumber for another second. Mark was right: old Jan was a con artist. But what could I do?
I immediately headed toward the fields, where I'd occasionally seen a hare or two during my walks. Occasionally. How was I supposed to find three, let alone catch them? I had no idea. After a moment of thought, though, I came to one conclusion: I had no other choice. Mark would tear me apart if he found out.
After two hours of wandering through the fields, I finally spotted a hare. But I had no clue how to catch it. A slingshot was out of the question—I'd never hit something so small and fast from such a distance.
As I tried to get closer, the hare heard me long before I was in range and darted back into its burrow. How am I supposed to catch three of them in a week...?