Page 33 of The Witch who Trades with Death

Chapter Thirty-Three

The snows went from heavy storms to sprinkles of white dust, melting before they hit the ground. What was already on the ground didn’t melt away completely, but turned to muddy sludge from which green things began to grow. The air warmed enough that Khana could go out with a thinner cloak and got the news she dreaded to hear: the mountain pass had opened. Already scouts reported Reguallian troops moving in.

Which meant the new Ghuran militia was ordered to march.

Khana’s armor felt ten times heavier as she put it on, and she took extra care making sure everything was tied to its proper place. Her weapons no longer felt foreign, but she still hated carrying them.

Haz met her in the dining room, also dressed for battle, along with Heimili and Amati.

“I’ve made you both some extra chuta,” Heimili said, stuffing their bags full of the round loaves. “No mead or vodka; you need your wits about you. But there’s plenty of tea in the kettle.”

“And a medical kit,” Amati added, seated on one of the cushions. “You might not need it, but I made one just in case.”

“Thank you,” Khana said gratefully, taking her bag.

“Now listen here both of you,” she instructed. “It’s going to be very boring outside of battle. Lots of free time. Time the other soldiers are probably going to fill with gambling. So don’t bet more money than you have and come back broke.”

Haz gave his gap-toothed grin. “Aw, Mimi, you have no faith in me, do you?”

“Not in your ability to count,” Khana said, remembering how he miscounted his dice while gambling with Sava a few weeks ago, losing the game.

“Right then,” Heimili declared. He straightened Haz’s wool armor. “Right.”

Haz set his bag back down and hugged him. “I’ll be fine, Baba. Khana’s keeping me out of trouble, remember?”

Heimili gripped him tight. “I remember.”

Amati tugged Khana down to her level so she could tuck a stray lock of black hair behind her ear. “If any of the other soldiers mock you, then asks you to heal them, let them bleed out.”

Khana shook her head, smiling. “I’m not going to do that, Amati.”

“Then at least sic that scary serji on them.”

“I will.”

Heimili finally let go of Haz, then hugged Khana, who tensed at the sudden contact and was relieved when he let go. The two soldiers left with their packs loaded with tea and bread, shields and spears in hand.

“I hate this,” Itehua grumbled, helping Khana set up a tent. It was two or three soldiers to each tent, made of animal pelts to keep out the cold. “The day before a fight is always the worst.”

She hummed, focusing on the task at hand and tune in her throat. It was the only way she’d been able to maintain her sanity for the last week of mountain travel: focus on not falling into ravines, on setting up and taking down tents, on cooking the meals, on the music that the soldiers sang as they marched.

Don’t focus on how her stomach dropped with every step she took.

Don’t focus on her nightmares, growing more and more vivid every night.

Don’t focus on the fact that her unit might not come back alive.

She tightened the tent’s knot and let out a breath, watching the wind whisk the white smoke away. Around them, other units got their tents and fires started up and down the mountain ledge, glowing like lanterns as the sun set. A few firepits down, someone played a flute. Neta started a fire from the same charred animal bones they’d been using for the last week while Lueti and Haz readied their meal: dried rabbit meat and Heimili’s chuta. Yxe read a book – the first Khana had seen in town – while Xopil sat apart, quietly praying, though she didn’t know to which deity. She wished she believed in some sort of god; it seemed to calm him. But the only entity she believed in was Death and praying to them would do no good. They could only affect the world through trade.

She found that she wasn’t nearly as afraid of the endless chasms and pits that dogged their steps as she used to be. She wasn’t sure if it was because she’d already conquered them twice now, or because she was too terrified of what lay ahead to spend the energy. Because to the north, just over the farthest ridge, she could see another set of fires. The Reguallian imperial army.

They’d be fighting tomorrow.

“You ever fight in battle, serji?” Itehua asked, sitting at the fire.

Neta added a few more bones. “More skirmishes than battles. Tlaphar tried to bully our hunters a few years ago and it escalated.”

“You ever shit your pants?”

Haz looked up, startled. “That’s a real problem?”

Itehua nodded knowingly. Neta smirked. “I was given fair warning and ample time to relieve myself beforehand, so no.”

“I was not given fair warning my first fight,” Itehua grumbled, making Lueti laugh. “Even the bravest men lose control when they see the enemy lined up, and then they’re good to go.”

“Xopil?” Haz asked.

“We learned to wear brown or black trousers before fighting,” he said.

A few birds landed in the snow nearby, chirping at each other, looking for food. Khana had no idea what type they were, but they were small enough that two could fit into the palm of her hand. Xopil crumpled up a bit of his chuta and tossed it to them, coaxing the little birds closer. To Khana’s surprise, he got one to hop into his hand.

“You are not holding a wild bird,” Haz said dumbly.

Xopil gave a careful, one-shouldered shrug. “I have a way with animals.”

“You have witchcraft is what you have.”

If Khana didn’t feel so sick to her stomach, she’d have giggled. She managed a fleeting smile.

“Yxe, can we start those lessons?” Lueti asked.

The boy looked up and nodded vigorously. “Absolutely.”

“Lessons?” Haz asked.

“Yxe’s teaching me to read and keep records,” Lueti explained. “I’m going to run my own brothel one day, and it’s a lot easier to do that when you know your numbers and letters.”

“Isn’t paper almost impossible to get around here?” Khana asked.

“It is,” Yxe said. “Most small business owners use knotted cords on belts to keep financial records, or chalk tablets, or bone.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to be a matron,” Itehua said.

“I already have a few girls and boys willing to work for me. I just need the money and the building,” Lueti replied. “Yxe?”

“Right.” The boy sat next to her, pulling out a string of loose cords. “We’ll start with the alphabet. Enough to get you to spell your name so you can sign things.”

“I like it.”

Khana edged closer so she could see the distinctive knots Yxe made. She’d seen some of this odd method of Ghuran record-keeping – Heimili used it to record the inn’s profits. She didn’t know that the knots could also be used to denote letters, that a cord could be tied in such a way that it could communicate an entire sentence, never mind a legally binding contract. Khana considered asking to join the tutoring when she heard snow crunch beneath a pair of boots.

She reached for her spear before recognizing the familiar silhouette. “Sava?”

“Khana,” he greeted. He glanced at Neta, who stopped sharpening her knife. “May I borrow your soldier for a moment, serji?”

“Don’t break her,” Neta warned, giving her blade another lick of the whetstone.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Khana, if you please?”

Wondering if this was Sava her friend, or Sava her superior officer, Khana obeyed, following him just out of reach of the fire’s light. His black hair and dark gray uniform blended into the darkness, making him a guardian spirit of the night. “Is everything all right?”

“Of course,” he said. His face softened. “I just wanted to check on you. I thought, with you and the emperor…” He shifted. “I don’t know. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Khana couldn’t stop the smile. “I’m… as well as can be expected, I suppose. As much as I would like to hide, I–” She looked back at her campsite. Itehua was sensibly going to bed, shaking a dozing Haz awake so he could do the same; Xopil fed the birds some more before following suit; Yxe and Lueti bent over their work, talking quietly, while Neta moved on from her knife to her spear. “I can’t let them fight this alone. Or you.”

She studied him critically. There were bags under his eyes. “You look almost as bad as I do.”

He shrugged. “Just tired.”

Khana frowned. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Sava. You can’t possibly be more scared than I am.”

His broad shoulders slumped. “I’m a leader, Khana. I have to put on a brave face for my people.”

“Not with me,” she promised. “Besides, Itehua says soiling our pants is a real concern, so…”

He gave a strangled laugh. “Oh, yes, I found that out the hard way. My father hasn’t let me live it down.”

Her smile wasn’t so hard to force. “You’re allowed to be scared, Sava. I won’t ask you to pretend. Just you being here helps.”

He softened. “Thank you, Khana. I needed that.”

He moved to hug her. Khana jolted and stepped back.

Sava dropped his arms, looking embarrassed.

Khana pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ack. I… Some days, most days, especially when the emperor is on my mind, I don’t like to be touched. Even when I actually want to. It reminds me of… I just don’t like being touched. It’s not you, I swear.”

“Ah,” Sava said.

“I’m sorry, I know that it’s important to Ghura. I see you people hug each other and slap each other’s backs all the time, but I just can’t…”

“Khana. Look at me.”

She peeked up. Sava gave her a warm look. “It’s all right. I don’t understand it, but if you don’t want me or anyone else touching you, then I won’t.”

She relaxed. “Sorry. Thank you.”

“No apologies, but you’re welcome. And” —he held up a finger— “if you ever need a hug from me, just ask. My arms are always open.”

Khana’s face heated. “I will. Thank you.”

“Get some sleep.” He smiled, nodded and left.

She still had nightmares that night, but they weren’t as terrible.