Page 24 of The Witch who Trades with Death

Chapter Twenty-Four

Khana wandered the town without aim or direction, humming to herself to fill the empty air, wishing for her lute. The winter air was a vice grip around her, scratching at every bit of exposed skin it could find. With the rush of adrenaline and aji fading away, her body felt her lack of sleep, making her movements slow and tired. Her eyes drooped. Yet her mind worked too furiously for sleep to be an option. Every time she closed her eyes it was Haz’s anger, Yamueto’s hands, Death’s grin.

Her thoughts plagued her. Haz, Heimili, Amati, they would tell everyone what she’d done. The Pinnsviris would be on her like a hawk, forcing her to give up pieces of herself to keep their patriarch alive. Phramanka would demand it be used in the war effort, keeping her troops healthy while Khana forgot her homeland, her reasons for hating Yamueto, her very self…

“Khana?”

She jumped. She had walked toward the mountains, to the Old Family part of town. Sava carefully approached her, snow softly crunching under his boots. “What are you doing up? Is someone hurt?”

“No, I…” His black hair looked unfairly pretty in the moonlight. She shook her head. “I couldn’t sleep.”

He hummed. “Me, neither.”

She peeked at him through her bangs. He was dressed for a midnight stroll, too. But no bow or quiver.

“Nightmares?”

He grimaced. “Paperwork. It takes a lot to keep a military running, and someone made a mistake when calculating everyone’s pay, so we’ve spent the last several hours redoing it and going over it again so it’s accurate. At this point, it’s just easier not to go to bed.”

“That sounds terrible,” she said, for lack of anything else.

“It is what it is. Let me walk you–”

“Death-bringer!”

Khana groaned as Sipah emerged from the darkness, jogging toward them. “Not now,” she said.

“The old man’s sick again,” he huffed. “Come on.”

Sava frowned. Heat flushed to Khana’s face, humiliated that this was happening in front of him.

“Let’s go !” Sipah ordered, moving to grab her arm.

She slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me,” she snapped, her nerves frayed.

He glared at her. Sava stepped closer, putting himself between the two of them. “She doesn’t have to offer her services if she doesn’t want to.”

For a moment, nobody moved. Everything seemed to hover as the snow sprinkled down. Khana wondered if this was the last time she’d have a say in the matter.

“They’ll pay you,” Sipah offered.

“They haven’t already?” Sava drawled.

“She never insisted.”

Sava glanced at her, questioning. Khana straightened. “I insist now.”

“Fine. Let’s go. The old man’s fading fast.”

She briefly met Sava’s eyes before turning her face down to his boots. “Would you mind coming with me and perhaps–”

“I’ll help you negotiate a fair deal,” he agreed.

Khana relaxed. The familiar route to the Pinnsviri estate was silent. They went straight to the yaks this time, draining one and arriving in Master Pabu Pinnsviri’s bedroom already glowing.

Once again, Veta and Bhayana were at his side. They were both visibly surprised to see Sava there.

“Come for an early breakfast?” Bhayana asked, subtly adjusting her legs to show off her hips and hourglass figure.

“No. I’m here to help Khana negotiate a price for her services,” he said.

Bhayana turned her dark gaze to the witch. “That’s just cruel.”

“You haven’t charged anyone else,” Veta agreed.

Khana shrank back, just a bit. “No one else is an Old Family.”

From the bed, a skeletal Pabu gave a frail chuckle. “How much… for immortality?”

“I told you, I don’t know how to do that,” she lied. “And you should know this is unsustainable. You’re going to need me back here any day.”

Bhayana played with her hair. “I still don’t see why you have to charge us. We’re already killing a yak for this.”

Sava again put himself in front of Khana, physically blocking her from the Pinnsviris before muttering to her, “You know you can walk away at any time, right?”

It was that knowledge – the fact that she did have a way out – and that someone was guarding her retreat, which made Khana straighten. “No. I’m fine. What’s the standard rate of a physician?”

“Ten coppers?” Sava guessed. “A skilled specialist could charge as much as twenty.”

Khana studied the dying man in the bed, then met Bhayana’s eyes. “Forty.”

She sputtered. “You extorting little–”

“For bullying Haz the other day.”

That shut her up. Veta sighed. “Bhayana, I told you to stay away from that boy.”

“I just wanted to talk,” she grumbled, crossing her arms.

“Forty coppers seems more than reasonable,” Sava said. “Right now. Or we walk.”

Grumbling, Veta left the room. The only sound was Pabu’s rasping breathing before his son came back with a jiggling bag. Sava counted the coins while Khana gave up the aji, having to force Pabu’s body to accept it. When he sat up, he wasn’t quite as lively as normal.

“It’s getting more difficult,” she warned. “I don’t think I’ll be able to pull it off again.”

“Not for another forty coppers, anyway,” Bhayana muttered.

Pabu waved her off. “You’ve been paid. Now get off my property.”

Sava handed Khana the bag, and they quickly went back outside. When she sucked in the cold night air, she smiled, feeling much better than she usually did after visiting the porcupines.

“Can I walk you home?” Sava asked.

“That’s halfway across town,” she protested.

He shrugged. “I’m not going back to bed.”

The knowledge of what was waiting for her at the inn dampened her spirits, but she nodded. They walked side-by-side, snow crunching beneath their boots.

Sava frowned. “You all right?”

“What’s the difference between being selfish and self-preservation?”

His frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

“Just answer the question.”

He took a deep breath, thinking it over as it misted out from his lips. “We are nothing without our friends and family. Our community. The reason I joined the military, risked my life, is to protect them. But boundaries are important,” he stressed. “Everyone has lines that others don’t get to cross. And only we get to decide where those lines are. After all, if you give up too much, you’ll eventually destroy yourself. Then you’ll be of no help to anybody. Some people, like the Pinnsviris, they don’t respect any boundaries unless they’re met with force, and then they try to make you feel guilty for enforcing them because they want to keep taking advantage of you.”

Her chest loosened, just a little bit.

“Sometimes, people struggle with drawing those lines, like you do. I knew someone who was… well, I guess you could call her an enforcer. Whenever her friends got uncomfortable with something or wanted to say no but couldn’t, they’d call Myrta and have her do it for them. She could be polite about it, but normally, if they were calling her, it was because the polite method had already failed. Myrta would call the interlopers out on their nonsense; they would respond by saying she was being rude. Her usual response was, ‘You wish I was merely rude. Today, I’m a bitch.’”

His smile was tinged with sadness. Khana noted the past tense but didn’t press, especially since they were approaching the inn.

She still didn’t quite know where she fell on the scale, whether she was right to keep her Death-deals a secret to prevent anyone from abusing the power. She supposed she was about to find out.

“Thank you, Sava. Good night,” she said, stepping into the inn.

The smell of baking bread reached her before anything else. While Heimili tended the oven, Amati made tea, which was a shock. Khana didn’t think she’d ever seen the woman up and about so early. She still had that stiff, delicate walk, but she was moving.

Haz sat on one of the cushions, looking into the fire. He jumped up when he noticed Khana. She flinched back at the sudden movement.

“Go get dressed, Khana,” Amati said firmly. “Haz has something to say to you, and then you can both have breakfast.”

The two of them walked upstairs. Khana felt like a child who’d just been scolded.

“I’m sorry,” both she and Haz blurted when they reached the top of the stairs.

“You’re sorry?” Haz asked.

She hugged herself. “I don’t make everyone give up livestock. If they can’t afford it, or if there’s no time, I’ll give them the pretense that I’m searching for an animal, when, really, I’m making a deal. But I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

Haz huffed, muttering, “Shit, I should’ve gone first.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t any of my business!” he said, louder. “I was just surprised, and still thinking of Mimi’s near-death. And then I found out you were keeping this from me – again, none of my business – but it was still a shock. I’m sorry.”

Khana’s throat closed up with something salty. This had not been what she’d expected.

Haz glanced back downstairs. “You should get dressed. Neta’s going to kick our asses today.”

He hurried back down. Khana went into her room, slipping into her armor and trying to ignore her fatigue. She contemplated the bag of money, then took half of the forty coins she’d earned and went back down into the dining room. All three of them sat on cushions near the fireplace, eating stew and chuta. Khana accepted her bowl with a quiet thank-you and set the coin in front of Haz.

“What the…?” He poked the money.

“Pabu Pinnsviri needed healing again,” she explained. “I made them pay double because of Bhayana, so that’s technically your half.”

“Did you finally start charging them?” he said gleefully.

She shrugged. “Well, I bumped into Sava on the way…”

“Yeah, hard to argue with a wolf at your doorstep.” He took the money.

“So,” Amati said. “What did you trade for me?”

Khana slurped down some of her soup. “One of my memories. That’s the cheapest price for aji.”

Haz paused. “You’re kidding.”

She shook her head.

Amati sighed. “Not worth it.”

“It wasn’t a serious memory,” Khana insisted. “It was the first time a friend helped me.” She could still remember the other dealings with Sita. Just not the first.

“You have to give up a memory every time you do that?” Heimili asked, horrified.

“For aji, yes.” Bolstered by everyone’s reaction so far, she swallowed her fear and took the plunge: “Other trades are much more expensive. Revivals take a much larger chunk of your soul. And immortality? Even worse.”

Haz choked on his food. “Immortality. Like, the emperor?”

Khana told them what Death had said about their deals with Yamueto, everything he had given up to get to this point. Haz set down his half-eaten stew, looking very lost. “What… is the point?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Giving up your passions and your hobbies for power I can understand. I don’t agree with it, but I understand it,” he said. “But giving up the ability to care about people? That’s the whole point of living! Make it make sense!”

Khana gave a helpless shrug.

“Perhaps he sacrificed such compassion so he wouldn’t feel anything when he outlived his family,” Amati mused.

Heimili shook his head, flour already caught in his beard. “No. If he truly cared about them, he’d have given them immortality instead.”

“True.”

“Can we not tell anyone about this?” Khana pleaded.

“And let the Pinnsviris walk all over you?” Haz snorted. “No fucking way. We’re keeping this a secret.”

Heimili nodded in agreement. The last tension in Khana’s chest evaporated.

Amati sipped her tea. “You’re not to revive me when I die.”

Heimili swallowed. “Ma–”

“No. I’ve lived my life, and I have no fear of death.” She pointed a bony finger at Khana. “No more of these deals for my sake. Understand?”

Khana nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.”