Page 32 of The Witch who Trades with Death

Chapter Thirty-Two

That night, the unit celebrated their victory at the inn. Heimili cooked them a special roast chicken, a rare import in this part of the world, and refused to charge them for it, brimming with pride as he ruffled Haz’s hair every chance he got, tangling it worse than usual. “My son the soldier. I knew you had it in you!”

Xopil’s wife Tlastisti was probably more excited than any of them. “I don’t have to cook for this big lug, and I get expensive food for free? I should sign up for the militia myself!”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Xopil grumbled, feeding his squirming toddler.

Neta was a latecomer. But she made up for the tardiness with a bottle of wine from a country Khana had never heard of that made Haz choke. “How did you get your hands on this? It’s worth more than every house on this street!”

“My mother’s made good friends among the traders.”

Everyone helped themselves to a horn of the wine, except for Itehua, who stayed with tea. “To the Poison Dart Frogs!” Neta toasted.

“Poison Darts!” They clanked their cups together.

They stayed up late, taking tiny sips from the wine bottle and talking even after Heimili and Amati closed and went to bed. Haz and Khana promised to clean up any lingering mess. Tlastisti went home with her son and refused her husband’s offer to go with them. “You stay and celebrate. The army’s giving you the next few days off, so don’t think I won’t work you like a dog.”

With that cheering sentiment, she left the unit to its own devices. Itehua passed the wine without drinking from it. “Incredible woman you’ve got there.”

“The best,” Xopil said, his wide face beaming like the sun.

“Was she part of this rebel thing, too?”

He nodded, sobering. “We were just a small village, one of many in the Kostikli Belt – that’s the river basin around the Kostikli River,” he explained. “The emperor renamed it to Namari after conquering it. Anyway, all of us were hit with a drought, our crops withering in the fields, livestock dying. The empire had never been kind to us – our grandfathers had fought back hard against the invasion, and they made sure to punish us for it – but during the drought they refused to give us any food, and worse, taxed us so bad that we had to give them what little rice we stored away for emergencies. All the town elders across the Belt got together and decided to revolt. I agreed to join, but I got worried on my way home to tell Tlastisti. We had just gotten married, and she had never liked violence, preferring to talk things over. I had prepared a speech and practiced it all the way home, but when I got there, I found her sitting on the mat carving spears out of cypress.

“‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

“‘We’re revolting, aren’t we?’ she said. ‘All the women in town agree: if we can’t talk you into fighting, we’ll do it ourselves. But we don’t have any steel, and I wouldn’t know how to make a sword if we did, so I’m making do with this.’”

Haz laughed. “Did you use the cypress spears to fight?”

“Some of us. Others used their farming tools.”

“You had no training, no real soldiers, and no weapons, and you still went against the empire?” Neta clarified, clearly impressed.

Xopil nodded, his smile dropping. “It didn’t work. We knew it wouldn’t. But we had to try. By the end, when it was clear we’d lose, some of us wanted to surrender, others wanted to make a final stand and die fighting, but…”

“It didn’t matter either way,” Khana said. “All their bodies were turned to night creatures for Yamueto’s army.”

He nodded. “Tlastisti was pregnant. We knew it was cowardly, but I couldn’t endanger her life. And I couldn’t let her try to raise that child without me, so we ran. Came to the mountains, thinking we’d be safe. Now the empire’s come again.”

He sniffed, wiping a tear. Haz rubbed his shoulder.

“That was the right thing to do,” Khana stressed. “You were never going to win, but this way you’re alive, and so is your son.”

“There’s no shame in retreating from a losing battle,” Neta agreed.

“Yeah, and now you have much better odds at winning,” Itehua said. “The empire’s going to regret picking a fight with you again.”

Xopil snorted.

“At least you managed to kill a handful of imperial bastards,” Lueti grumbled, taking her sip of wine. She didn’t wear pink today, going off-duty. “Me, I just smashed the head in of a rough client with a tea kettle. That’s all it took for the empire to come after me.”

“You’re a whore,” Itehua said at length. “How rough was he?”

“Oh, he wasn’t getting rough with me ,” she clarified. “I worked at a brothel that employed all kinds of folk, and some of my work-sisters had children. They helped with cleaning, cooking, some of the older boys stayed on as enforcers, that type of thing. And only that type of thing. Some houses sell children’s bodies, but not us.”

Khana’s chest tightened as she realized where this was going.

“But this man…” Lueti shook her head. “He was some petty lord or whatnot. Never learned to take ‘no’ for an answer. And he decided he wanted the nine-year-old girl cleaning the dishes in the back. I was the first to hear her scream.”

Licking her dry lips, Khana asked, “What happened to her?”

“She was fine,” she assured. “Scared, of course, and her mother was furious . But he didn’t do more than tear at her clothes before I hit him on the head with a teapot. Spilled his brains all over the floor. Of course, the house couldn’t protect me, and it was only a matter of time before imperial brats started sniffing around, so they smuggled me out of town and lied about where I was going. Wound up here.”

“Shit, Lueti,” Haz whistled. “Remind me not to piss you off around tea sets.”

Her grin was all teeth. “What about you, Itehua? I imagine you left an impressive reputation behind.”

He snorted. “Probably not beyond my hometown. I ran a ring, smuggling some less than legal goods in and out.”

“Drugs?”

“Opium, mostly, but also birth control.”

“Birth control?” Neta echoed.

“It’s illegal in the empire,” Itehua and Khana said at the same time. She wondered if they would’ve done business together if he’d been in the capital.

“Barbarians,” Neta growled.

“You have no idea,” Lueti agreed, flipping her braid over her shoulder. “Girls like me relied on boys like Itehua if we wanted to avoid anything from crotch-rot to pregnancy.”

“Thank you,” he cheered. “And Xopil, you said your village starved from drought? That never would’ve happened in my town. We kept a steady supply of food and medicine. Anytime anyone needed anything, they knew to come to me.”

“For a price,” Neta guessed.

He shrugged. “Nothing more than they could pay. Sometimes it was coin, other times, a small favor here and there. But I’ll say this now, because Lueti’s making that face, that I never sold people or bargained with sex, and I never beat or killed someone. Unless they deserved it.”

The serji snorted. “I’ll be nice and not ask what constitutes ‘deserved.’”

“Shush.”

“You always talk back to Neta, I can’t imagine you working for a crime lord,” Yxe said.

Itehua gave him a look. “I was the crime lord.”

“Really?!”

“That’s not hard to believe,” Neta muttered. “How’d you end up here?”

“The empire disapproved of my business,” Itehua said imperiously. He deflated. “It didn’t matter that we didn’t cause them trouble. I barely had to bribe the imperials to look the other way because I made sure to stay out of their way every chance I could. Then suddenly they came for our necks.”

“They can’t afford to have the people rely on anyone but them,” Khana said. “Methods aside, you provided an essential service to your community, outside of imperial control. That’s Yamueto’s worst nightmare.”

“Yes, well, we paid for that,” he grumbled. “Half of my men and women – good people – were executed, the others scattered with only the clothes on their backs. And I couldn’t do anything. I went into the business to look after them, and…”

“And you lost a war,” Neta finished kindly. “Don’t feel bad because you fought for what you believe in. You and Xopil, and Lueti, too. We’ve all been there.”

He nodded, still looking grim.

“Feel bad because you should’ve realized that Pahuuda doesn’t need that specific business of yours,” she teased.

“A common businessman’s mistake,” he defended. “I don’t see why I should be facing years of military service for it.”

“Because now you have us!” Haz cheered.

“Hurray,” he deadpanned. “I get to be on the dredge unit.”

“We’re soldiers now,” Xopil defended. “Just as strong as the others.”

“No, this unit was fixed,” Neta admitted, looking into the empty wine bottle. “As soon as I got promoted to serji, my uncle assured me that I would never go farther. He made sure all the ‘weaklings,’ as he saw them, got to me. The old whore, the bad-luck witch, the troublesome criminal, the cowardly rebel, the Tlapharian boy – he saw all of you as worthless in some way. He even made sure I had unit nine , for that extra bit of bad luck.”

“I figured as such,” Khana said.

“You’re uncle’s the Cituva Master , right? On the council?” Itehua clarified, refilling his teacup. “What an ass.”

“We proved him wrong, though,” Haz said with a smirk.

Neta smiled back. “We sure did.”

“Gods, your family sounds awful,” Lueti said.

“Eh, they don’t see me as one of them,” Neta explained.

“But there’s nothing wrong with a child born out of wedlock,” Yxe protested. “Every Old Family has them in their family tree. The Cilas’ Master is one. There’s no shame in it.”

“No, but according to my Cituva relatives, there is shame in having a lowly outsider refugee in your family tree. So, I go out of my way to show them that I’m a Cituva whether they like it or not.” She patted her snow leopard cloak.

“Bet that pisses them off,” Itehua said with a smirk.

She laughed, the wine turning her cheeks pink. “So much, you have no idea! I can’t wait until I become midya, then maversti, and finally chief. Rub that in their faces.”

“That’ll be a day,” Lueti cheered.

“Keep us alive in the upcoming war and I’ll even vote for you,” Itehua teased.

“Deal,” Neta said.

“There has to be better ways to become chief than fighting,” Khana insisted. “It’s not just warriors here.”

“True, but it’s the surest route,” she said. “This war has perfect timing. There will be plenty of opportunity for glory and promotions.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say!”

Neta gave her a deadpan look. “The war is going to happen. People are going to die. Quite possibly some of my friends and family. I don’t like that, nor do I want it, but it will happen no matter what we do. But fuck me for trying to find a bright side.”

Khana looked at her lap, embarrassed.

“I just enlisted because I didn’t want to be called a coward,” Yxe admitted quietly. “Everyone was doing it, mocking the ones who didn’t or couldn’t, and I wanted to make my parents proud so… I wish I had your bravery, serji.”

“You and me both,” Khana muttered.

“You are not a coward,” Haz said tiredly. “Neither of you. You’ve made it this far. Yxe, you feral rat, you bit a man twice your size right there by the fireplace.”

The boy blushed and giggled as Itehua gently punched his shoulder.

Haz continued, “And Khana, I don’t even want to know what horror you dealt with in the imperial court.”

The alcohol loosened her lips, tinging her voice with bitterness: “I was a concubine. I was his quiet little mouse who did as she was told and never fought back. I didn’t leave until he was going to kill me.”

“You survived,” he insisted. “Just like I did.”

“Wait a minute,” Yxe said, tipping his head in confusion. “Didn’t you say that witches attend directly to the emperor? To help with the night creatures?”

Xopil nodded. “We had a witch born in our town. He was taken straight to the capital. Had to be a bodyguard for one of the princes, I think. One who had eight concubines?”

“Every royal man gets those?” Haz asked.

Itehua snorted. “If you’re rich enough, and can handle the drama, you can have as many women as you want. Most of the royals have at least three. The emperor has…what, two, three hundred? Who were you stuck with Khana?”

She winced, giving them a guilty look.

Lueti realized it first: “Oh my gods. You were Emperor Yamueto’s concubine!”

Khana shrank into her cushion. “…yes. Unwillingly, I should point out. And I made sure I never got pregnant, no matter what he did.”

“Why would he do that?” Neta asked. “It must take a massive amount of time and energy to keep you all in line, to say nothing of food, clothes, and shelter. What’s the purpose beyond showing off?”

“It’s to create more witches,” Khana explained. “He takes the women for himself and if they’re too closely related to him, he marries them off. Male witches also get arranged marriages. All of them are forced to serve and help him create night creatures. The more witches he has, the more night creatures he has, the more kingdoms he can conquer, and since they usually have a few witches themselves…”

“An endless cycle,” Yxe said. “Like planting wheat: one sprout can give you multiple seeds. Plant those and you get even more.”

“How long were you there?” Neta asked quietly.

“I was fourteen when I arrived and left last year, so six years,” she answered. “Oh, I’m twenty-one now, aren’t I?”

“Happy birthday,” Xopil offered.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Haz said, holding up his hands. “You said you didn’t let yourself get pregnant. You smuggled illegal birth control into the palace, didn’t you?”

Khana nodded. “It’s the one thing I could do to him.”

“And you have the gall to call yourself a coward?”

She blanched, never really considering that before. “Plenty of others did more,” she said dismissively.

“And I’m sure they had a very happy ending,” Neta pointed out.

Khana shuddered, thinking of the women whose bodies were twisted into night creatures, or hung from the palace walls, or even those who were locked in their rooms for months on end, receiving nightly visits from Yamueto.

“Fear keeps us alive,” Xopil said. “That’s what my wife said when we were deciding whether to flee or fight. Bravery is good, but too much makes a man stupid. That’s why the gods gave us fear.”

“Agreed.” Lueti took Khana’s hand. “Darling, you weren’t even a soldier. I know dozens of girls just like you who suffered that kind of abuse for far longer than six years, and many of them blame themselves for not being able to get away, even when they were only children!”

A weight Khana hadn’t been aware of lifted from her shoulders. She realized she had been carrying an invisible fear: what her unit would think of her when they found out about the truth of her past.

None of them condemned her. They didn’t scold, berate, or hate her. They were all looking at her with variations of compassion, understanding, and even admiration.

Khana’s eyes watered. Lueti pulled her into a hug, letting her sniffle into her shoulder.

After a few heartbeats, Haz asked, “So… is the emperor compensating for something?”

“Hasyamin!” Lueti scolded as Khana pulled back in confusion.

He held up his hands. “I’m just saying! Someone who so aggressively wages war and rapes women to prove what a big man he is… He’s probably a little smaller than average, no?”

“This is not something we should talk about,” Neta growled, glancing at Khana.

Khana wiped her face. Talking about this, surprisingly, did not result in panic or dread. Haz’s smirk invited her to make fun of her tormentor. To strip away a little bit of the power he still held over her. “Well… what’s average?”

“Or maybe we should,” the serji muttered.

“Ah, the age-old question,” Itehua said with a smirk.

Yxe raised his hand, though his face was beet red. “I’ve read books where some physicians say that a flaccid penis is averaged at a finger’s length, and erect is two.”

“They wrote that down?” Xopil wondered.

“Whose fingers?” Haz asked.

“You can’t trust a book to that, ” Itehua scolded. “Besides, I know men with plenty bigger. Myself included.”

“Oh, sure,” Neta drawled.

“Would you like a demonstration?”

“Only if you want to lose it.”

“Did the book mention girth?” Haz asked. “Because I heard that’s what’s important.”

“Scholars disagree, depending on location,” Yxe said, pulling his hat down over his red face. “That’s all I read.”

“Boys, boys!” Lueti called, raising her hands. “As the resident expert, I believe my word is law.”

They all backed down. Lueti drew her knife, tested her hand against the handle and blade like she was about to wrap her fingers around it, then nodded. “A limp cock is just long enough to wrap a hand around, maybe more. A hard one is about the size of this blade.”

Khana looked at the knife. He’s average, then, she thought. But that’s not what they wanted to hear, and they could all use a laugh.

“Well, he’s definitely compensating,” she said.

Itehua howled. Xopil and Yxe both chuckled while Haz called, “I knew it! I knew it!” Neta buried her face in her hand, likely regretting her decision to rise the military ranks. Lueti snickered, giving Khana a knowing look. She’d likely told similar lies to get the same results.

For the first time in a long time, when Khana went to bed that night, she didn’t have nightmares.

Khana clicked the coins together again and again. She’d worn jewels and silks, but this was the most amount of money she’d ever held. And she’d earned it all herself.

“What are you going to do with your pay?” Haz asked. The unit had gone to the town hall together to collect their first payment as soldiers, a nice stipend to make up for the winter months, with more promised next year. The seven of them clustered around each other in the corner of the throne room, reluctant to go back into the freezing cold. The midyas sitting at tables had marked their names on tablets and sent runners to get the promised coin from the vault, the seven stone thrones looming behind them. Other units stood in line, waiting to get theirs, jostling and teasing each other. Neta’s coin purse was a little larger than theirs, but that was to be expected of officers.

“I’m getting myself a massage,” Lueti cheered. “The type with hot stones.”

“A regular massage, or are you going to a co-worker?” Itehua asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, shush. I don’t like sex.”

They all blinked at her.

“Uh, aren’t you in the wrong line of work, then?” Yxe asked, turning red as always.

Lueti snorted. “Let me rephrase: I’m good at sex, and I do enjoy it. But it’s not something I seek out or crave. Frankly, I don’t understand how anyone can look at someone and think, ‘Ah, yes, I’ll put my genitals in their mouth.’”

Khana choked, also spotting Sava walking down the hall with Midya Chaku. Sava waved and she gave a little one back. Lueti raised a knowing eyebrow but didn’t comment.

“I’m getting my wife a present with this,” Xopil said proudly. “She’s been wanting to make Ponti a new outfit.”

“Save that for the Festival of Garmiva,” Itehua advised.

“You give gifts for that?” Khana asked, jolted back into the conversation.

“Oh, yes. Big ones. Especially to people you’re married to.”

Haz shrugged. “Mimi, Baba, and I usually hand-make our presents. Cheaper that way.” He held up his purse. “This is probably going straight to the inn.”

Khana looked down at her purse. Her first instinct was to save it toward her continued travels; this alone was about half of what she’d need to comfortably move on. But… “How expensive are lutes?”

Haz gaped. “You play?”

“Lutes, lyres, most anything with a string.”

“When were you going to tell us this?”

“I’m telling you now.”

“Good ones are expensive,” Yxe said. “Even my family has trouble getting the money for a lute that’ll last more than a few years. When I did music lessons, it was with a hand-me-down.”

“Oh, you play, too?” Haz bemoaned. “We could’ve had two bards in the inn this whole time?”

Yxe shrugged apologetically. “I’m only good at drums. And I’m horrible with a crowd. All those eyes make me choke.”

“And I can’t play if I can’t pay,” Khana sighed, tucking her purse away. It wasn’t worth it.

“Khana!” Sava called. “A moment?”

“Ooooooh, you’re in trou-ble…” Haz sang.

Face heating, Khana excused herself and joined him and Midya Chaku. “Sirs?”

Chaku huffed, his beard twitching with his breath. “Since you managed to get through basic training, you’ll be transferred to one of my medic units so they can get you caught up.”

It was like a bucket of cold water. Khana blinked. “Transferred?”

“Medic units get extra training in the healing arts and are held back during combat until needed,” he said. “They also get a pay raise. Though why they get more money for not fighting is beyond me…”

Khana opened her mouth. Closed it. Looked back at the Poison Dart Frogs. Itehua must have said something insulting, because Lueti shoved his shoulder while Haz laughed. Neta was the only one facing Khana’s direction, a knowing look in her eyes.

Your choice, they seemed to say.

Khana touched the little glass frog hanging from her neck. She turned back to Chaku, straightened her back, and said, “Thank you for the opportunity, midya, but I’d rather stay with my unit.”

Chaku blinked. “Come again?”

Sava studied her intently but didn’t say anything.

“Forgive me for saying so, midyas, but lot of people in this town don’t like me,” she admitted. “Outright hate me, in fact. And they don’t like the rest of Unit Nine, either. Xopil was stabbed by his fellow soldiers the day we met. Haz was abused by another midya who keeps trying to torment him. And Neta’s hated by her own family just because of her mother’s origins. Most of your militia and people of your own company would love to see us ripped apart by night creatures. But we love and look after each other. I can’t leave that. I can’t leave them.”

“That’s not your choice,” Chaku scolded. “It’s mine, or the maversti’s.”

“Actually, no,” Sava cut in. “If two units lay claim to a soldier, and the soldier is qualified for both, then it’s the soldier ’s choice. And Neta formally requested that Khana stay with her unit.”

Neta did what? Khana thought, bewildered.

“Neta is a frog’s brat who doesn’t know anything about war or strategy,” Chaku insisted.

“She knows enough to get one of the most neglected units to pass basic with flying colors,” Sava said, a dangerous edge in his voice. “Despite their midya denying them the proper time to train and occupying them with busywork.”

Chaku’s face turned red. “Are you accusing me of neglecting my soldiers?”

“Officially? Not yet.”

Khana looked between the two men staring each other down. Sava spoke again. “Witches can heal, yes. But they can also take down perfectly healthy, armed enemies with only a touch.”

Chaku gave a heavy sigh and turned back to Khana. “Fine. You can stay with Unit Nine. But I’ll not hear a word of complaint.”

Khana beamed. “Thank you so much!”

Grumbling, Chaku walked away. Sava smiled, and Khana’s stomach immediately turned to butterflies. “Thank you,” she repeated. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“No, but Chaku deserved it,” he said. “He’s a selfish brat who only cares for his own pockets, rather than the needs of the army. If it were up to me, he and Bhayana would both be discharged, and I’d have you, Neta, and the rest in my company. But we’re all archers, so…”

“That wouldn’t be good,” she said, thinking about how long it took her to handle a spear and axe. A projectile weapon like the bow and arrow? “I’d probably shoot you by accident.”

“I’m good at dodging. Just ask some of the newer recruits.” His smile faded, and he lowered his voice. “Are you sure about this? You don’t have to stay. Plenty of people transfer. It’s not a mark of shame.”

“Did Neta really make that request?”

“Lots of serjis do that. The whole point of the unit is to learn to trust each other.”

She looked down at the stone floor. Her hands shook, just a little. “I’m… not looking forward to fighting. But I feel happier and safer with my unit than I have in… in a very long time.”

Sava swallowed and nodded. “All right then. Your choice.”

They stood there, a little awkward, as Khana thought of something to say in response. She wanted to hug him, but he was technically her officer. In the end, she took his hand, giving herself a moment to feel the callouses on his skin, and said again, “Thank you,” before rejoining the others.

Neta feigned ignorance. “What did the midya want?”

“I’m not transferring. I’m staying with you.”

“Seriously?” Haz gasped.

“We’re going to be in the middle of the fighting,” Neta warned.

Khana’s stomach twisted, but she nodded. “I know.”

Then, because it was Neta and not Sava, she didn’t hold back. She wrapped her arms around her neck and hugged her tight. “Thank you for fighting for me,” she whispered.

Neta rested her big arms around her. “For my unit? Any time.”