Page 30 of The Witch who Trades with Death

Chapter Thirty

Sava

The Iron Scepter was the most sacred object of the Ghura. The great Chief Pahileed had carved it himself before settling his mercenary people in the mountains. Cords hung from the top, from which animal teeth and bones were tied and cackled with every movement. Every seventy years, another was added to symbolize the greatest event of the last two to three generations so that when the chief held it, they literally held the weight of the entire people’s ancestry.

Chief Phramanka looked like she very much wanted to shove the entire Scepter down Bhayana’s throat.

“They attacked me!” she insisted, her watery voice filling the throne room of the town hall. Only two of the thrones were occupied: Chief Phramanka’s and Master Pabu Pinnsviri’s. While the trial was technically public, it had taken place quickly enough that most of the town wasn’t aware of it. Sava had ensured that, reporting the bar fight to his mother and pushing for a quick trial before the Pinnsviris could try to adjust public opinion.

Besides the soldiers assigned to keep the peace within the town hall, the only other people in the room were Sava, Bhayana, a handful of the witnesses Sava had interviewed at the inn, and Serji Neta. Though Neta wasn’t there was a witness, instead standing against the wall, half in shadows, simply watching the proceedings. Sava was surprised to see her; graduation was days away. She should’ve been training her unit.

“I came to the inn to get some food, and they all attacked me,” Bhayana repeated. “Unprovoked!”

“You trespassed,” Sava growled. “That inn is off-limits to you for another five years.”

“That doesn’t give them the right–” Master Pabu Pinnsviri cut himself off with a long, painful cough. Bhayana rushed to his side, patting his back and handing him a kerchief to wipe the spittle and blood from his lips.

“That doesn’t give them the right to escalate it to violence,” he said. “The witch almost killed one of my men.”

“The one that was trying to beat Hasyamin to death?” Phramanka asked drolly. The witnesses all nodded.

“So, to rephrase,” the chief said, “you went to an inn – the one inn in this town that you are expressly forbidden from entering – with half a dozen soldiers, taunted the man you had abused for months–”

“He lied!”

“ Taunted the man you had abused for months ,” Phramanka repeated, barreling over Bhayana’s protests. “They told you to leave. And when you refused – thus officially trespassing on their property – Khana threw her horn at you and missed. After some more yelling, your man threw the first punch and drew first blood. The fight devolved from there until Khana almost killed your man, who was punching Hasyamin’s face, but stopped at Serji Neta’s orders.”

“With witchcraft! Which you told her not to use!” Bhayana pointed out.

“Self-defense is exempt. That is common sense, which you seem to lack.” Phramanka twisted the Iron Scepter in her hands, swishing the cords of bones and teeth to rattle. “What damage was done to the inn?”

“Minor,” Sava said grudgingly. “Broken horns and plates, ripped cushions and the like.”

“Physical injuries?”

“Several.”

“And I assume the girl healed them?”

Sava gritted his teeth. “Yes.”

“Then what’s the harm?” Pabu croaked. “It was a drunken brawl. Nothing more.”

“The brawl never would have happened if your granddaughter obeyed the laws I set before her,” Phramanka retorted. “Graduation is in less than a week, and we’ll be marching as soon as the snow clears. My soldiers need to trust each other, not play these ridiculous mind games!”

“That’s obviously what my granddaughter was trying to do,” he argued. “Making an overture of friendship, to put the past behind them. This Reguallian boy is the one holding the grudge.”

Sava barked a laugh.

“I don’t care who’s holding a grudge. Bhayana is banned from that inn and from all contact with Hasyamin and his family,” Phramanka said, glaring at the defendant. “I ought to strip you of your rank and all military service. Your behavior has been appalling for that of a midya.”

Bhayana stiffened but managed to remain calm.

“Then I suppose you don’t need any Pinnsviris in your military,” Pabu mused. “Nor our financial support.”

Phramanka glared at him. Sava balked and said, “You would let the emperor invade without defending your homeland? For a petty grudge?”

Pabu shrugged. “Obviously, the chief feels confident that she doesn’t need our help. Who are we to deny her will?”

Sava looked between him and his mother. The old man had to be bluffing, right?

But when he saw Bhayana smirk, he knew Pabu wasn’t. The Pinnsviris were some of the richest people in the mountains. They even had properties beyond the tundra. A tenth of the militia’s armor, weapons, food, and supplies were funded by them.

Pahuuda could do without them. But it would hurt.

After a moment of charged silence, Phramanka looked down at Bhayana. “This is your second offense. As such, you will pay a fine of seven yaks or their equivalent.”

Bhayana balked at such a high price, but a tiny shake of Pabu’s head silenced her.

“Your third offense will, by law, result in exile at the minimum,” Phramanka warned. “Not even a member of an Old Family can avoid that. Do I make myself clear?”

Bhayana nodded.

“Good. Now get out of my sight. Pabu, you, too. If I have to hear another smug word, I’m tossing you in a snowbank.”

Bhayana helped her frail grandfather stand and slowly leave. The witnesses were all gone before they even reached the door.

When they were finally gone, Sava huffed. “They can’t legally withdraw military support.”

“Sure they can,” Phramanka said. “All war efforts are voluntary. If you must force people to participate, then there should not be a war.”

He growled. He knew that. Understood that. There had been plenty of times in Ghuran history where such protections of civilian freedom had curbed an overly aggressive or would-be tyrannical chief. But sometimes, he wished his mother had more power.

“Serji Neta, you’re still lurking,” Phramanka said, standing from her throne and stretching. “Shouldn’t you be training your unit?”

The soldier pushed off the wall. “I put Itehua in charge for the morning. I was hoping to speak with your son.”

“What about?” Sava asked.

“Midya Chaku has been seen visiting the Pinnsviris several times the last few weeks. They’ve been hosting him for dinner.”

He immediately understood. “You think they want him to interfere with your unit’s graduation?”

Neta gave an imperious shrug. “Would you put it past the Pinnsviris to ask for such a favor? Bhayana already tried to bribe me to expel Haz.”

“What?!”

“Why didn’t you report this?” Phramanka asked.

“No evidence,” Neta replied. “We were alone. It would’ve been she-said-she-said, if it made it to trial at all. We have better things to do.”

Sava. Really. Hated. Politics.

He turned to his mother, but Phramanka was already shaking her head. “I have no grounds to transfer or demote Chaku.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Neta said smoothly. “I was hoping Midya Sava or someone similar would be there in attendance for our graduation. Act as witness. Chaku will be less likely to pull such a stunt if you’re there.”

Sava paused, considering that against the needs of his own Blue Owl Company, whose graduation he would be overseeing. “What’s the date of your test?”

“Five days from now.”

The Blue Owl Company’s was in six. “I’ll be there.”

Her whole body relaxed. “Thank you. One more thing: Khana said she initially enlisted to become a combat medic. When we graduate, she’ll be transferred to a medical unit.”

“That is how that works, yes,” Phramanka snarked.

“I would like to put in a formal request to keep her in mine,” Neta said.

Sava sucked in a breath. The combat medics were in a dangerous enough position, but at least they were held behind the front line and given a certain amount of protection. Most other armies also avoided hitting them out of respect. In the event of their capture, they were kept as valuable prisoners of war and returned home unharmed more often than not.

The idea of sweet, scared Khana being in the front lines made his gut twist.

“We cannot force such a decision without due cause,” Phramanka said. “And neither can your commanders. Khana’s proven her worth as a medic time and time again, so there will be no reason to deny her if she chooses to transfer.”

“I understand that,” Neta said. “I simply wanted to make a second choice possible.”

Sava gritted his teeth. Neta wasn’t the first serji to do this type of thing. Many made such formal requests, even knowing that there was nothing that the chief could actually do about them. They were simply declarations of intent, a way for serjis to show their subordinates their desire to keep them in their units.

He’d have to make sure Khana understood that. If she felt pressured to stay with Neta, to fight on the front lines, that would be another careless cruelty inflicted under his watch.

“Your request has been noted,” Phramanka said. “It will mean nothing if your unit doesn’t graduate.”

Neta smirked. “I wouldn’t worry about that, chief.”