Page 38 of The Witch who Trades with Death

Chapter Thirty-Eight

He kissed along her neck and collarbone, soft beard tickling her skin. She wrapped her legs around his waist, wanting him closer, wanting the clothes that separated them gone, not wanting his lips to leave her.

He came up and devoured her mouth, moving against her as he caressed her thighs, hips, breasts, every inch of her that he could reach. Her muscles felt weak, and she whimpered, wanting more, more, Sava…

Well, at least it wasn’t a nightmare, Khana thought, replacing the blankets and furs that made up her bed. She’d never had a dream like that before. Not that she was complaining! It was the kind of thing that she thought only existed in songs and plays, one character flirting with another by saying, “I dreamed of you.”

She was on laundry duty and carried the blankets downstairs to the back room, where she would wash them before hanging them outside to dry. Then she went back up the stairs to collect more blankets from other rooms, going up and down, up and down, not nearly as winded as she’d been when she first started working at the inn. She didn’t know if Heimili or Neta were to thank for that.

The last room was Amati’s. She hadn’t been out of it recently, growing frailer by the day. Khana’s bargains with Death had always had an expiration date, but she’d hoped to put the grandmother’s passing off for a little while longer.

Amati’s room was full of neatened clutter. Unspun wool and finished yarn poked out of boxes and baskets. A few shelves made from bone and stone hung from the walls, holding candles, decades-old sloppy clay bowls made from inexpert children’s hands, old dolls, and other keepsakes from a family all grown up. There was even a short tapestry hanging from the wall, depicting Tsermayu and her dress of stars.

Amati sat upright in her bed, gnarled fingers sewing up a hole in Heimili’s shirt. She moved slowly, pausing to squint at her work before making another stitch.

“Did you want me to change your bedding?” Khana asked.

Amati sighed, looking down at herself. “I suppose that would be the smart thing to do.”

Khana fetched the fresh bedding first, making sure to grab a spare cushion. Then she helped Amati stand, take delicate steps to the cushion, and set her down before going about her actual task, humming as she did.

“You should be a bard,” Amati said, cutting her off. “I swear, most of this town is deaf. Can barely carry a children’s lullaby.”

“I need an instrument for that,” Khana replied sadly.

“That’d be easy to buy, if you charged for your magic.”

“I’m not charging anyone for healing unless I must. It’s just cruel.” She paused, re-considering. “Unless they’re Bhayana.”

Amati held up her wrinkled hands, letting Khana stand her back up and bring her to bed. “People take advantage of those who let them. It’s not cruelty to want something for yourself, even if you think you don’t deserve it.” Amati studied her. “ Especially if you think you don’t deserve it. You have the worst sense of self-worth out of everyone I’ve ever met.”

“Sorry?” Khana asked, confused and embarrassed.

Amati waved her off. “I suppose time will be the best healer. Just don’t let the Old Families use your healing anymore without charging them. They can afford it.”

Khana nodded in agreement.

“Before you start on laundry, ask Heimili for a bit of money and go into town. My favorite soap-maker only comes once a year. If I’m to be trapped in this bed, it’s going to be on the best-smelling blankets we can afford.”

“Any specific scent?”

“Anything with flowers. I’m a terrible sucker for them. He charges me an arm and a leg. Don’t tell him I’m dying, or he’ll charge even more, the shameless bastard.”

“Yes, Amati.”

The soap-maker was easy to find. The marketplace had sprouted a half dozen brand new wagons from across the tundra since the first sign of spring. A couple of them specializing in weapons and metalwork were almost sold out already. Another carried tobacco leaf, coffee beans, spices, beer, mead, and ale. One sold jugs and barrels of wine, while another had fabrics: silks, laces, wools, and linens. Neta haggled with the trader of a wagon full of tea while a line stretched behind her. Khana had to squeeze through half a mob and wait in a very long queue before she got to the right one.

In line, everyone gossiped.

“Heard that night creatures have been hitting the Divaajinian ships all along the coast,” someone reported. “Apparently the emperor’s been playing with sharks, whales, and squids.”

“I heard he’s got an entire armada sailing for the capital.”

“It takes a lot longer to get an armada.”

“How do you know? You an armada expert?”

It did take longer to get an entire armada together, especially to a magnitude that Yamueto would need to first break through Divaajin’s navy, then besiege their coastal cities, then push into the heartland. And he hated using ships because of the unpredictability of ocean storms. Not to mention Divaajin apparently had a reputation for an excellent navy, having built the kingdom on naval trade. Yamueto would want an overland army, and the only way to do that was through these mountains.

How long until he created flying night creatures big enough to carry troops?

Khana pushed the thoughts aside as she reached the front of the line.

“Ah, I see the tundra has a beautiful desert flower!” the trader cried when he saw her. “Come, come, my dear! Not every day I meet a lady of the Naatuun Desert, no, no!”

Khana giggled, a little flustered by the attention even though she knew that it was only to smooth her over for a sale. He was twice her age, and thankfully managed to make the compliments sound paternal rather than creepy. “I haven’t been ‘from the desert’ in a long time. What floral soaps do you have?”

“The lady knows what she wants! I appreciate that. I have many. Roses, tulips, lavender, a whole garden! If you’re hoping to catch the eyes and nose of a handsome gentleman, then may I recommend the lilies. That’s how my wife caught me.”

Khana’s face heated, briefly wondering what Sava’s favorite flower was. “Well, this is actually… for my grandmother. I’m sure you know we have a festival coming up.”

“The Festival of Garmiva! Yes, the lovely summer goddess. A fine gift, a fine gift!”

“I already have a gift made for her,” Khana said, and it was true. She’d spent the last several evenings sewing her presents after cleaning up the dinner rush. “But I have a little extra coin today, so I thought I might as well see if I could get her a second. Do you have red clover? I’ve heard that’s good for breathing problems.”

He pointed at her, grinning. “You’re a medic, aren’t you? Or a midwife?”

“Best in town,” a familiar, deep voice said behind her.

Khana jumped, face heating when she saw Sava had come up behind her. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting away from Haz.” He pointed over his shoulder, to one of the metalwork wagons. Its trader was a handsome man in his late twenties, perhaps early thirties, with red hair curling around his ears. Haz leaned against his wagon as the two talked, sly smiles and heat in their eyes.

Khana gaped. “Is he flirting ?”

“ Actual flirting,” Sava confirmed. “Not teasing. And I’m not going to discourage that.”

“Ah, I see Loy has found another bed companion,” the soap-seller mused.

“Is he gentle with his companions?” Sava asked seriously.

“Very much so. I just hope your friend isn’t looking for anything long-term.”

Both Sava and Khana relaxed. Khana even grinned. “No, he is not. He just got out of a nasty relationship, so this is good. Really good. Oh, is that the red clover soap?”

“It is! Take a sniff.” The trader held up a thick, milky white bar with flecks of dried clover in it. It smelled phenomenal, which meant, of course, the asking price was quite high. Khana managed to haggle him down a little bit further, but she still left the wagon with a much lighter coinpurse than before. Sava, too, as he purchased a small vial of sunflower lotion.

Haz caught her and Sava’s eyes as they left and smirked before going back to his conversation.

“I’m happy for him,” Khana said, downright giddy. This was an excellent sign of healing.

“Me, too. I haven’t been this pleased since Neta and Athicha started courting.”

“Oh, they’re so cute together. Is it true she taught them sign language?”

“She taught both of us,” Sava admitted. “I was shocked. She and I always got along fine, but before the ambush, she and Athicha hated each other.”

Khana gaped. Whenever she saw Neta and Athicha together, they were always so comfortable and cozy. It was hard to picture them as anything other than adorable. “Was it because she’s Reguallian?”

“It had more to do with her ‘flaunting’ her Old Family status despite very clearly not being welcomed in that family, so they got off on the wrong foot and it spiralled from there. Then the two of them lost half of their companies in the span of an hour, and Athicha lost their voice. They were bedridden for weeks. I was… not in a good place, either. I lost someone in that fight. And then also lost my best friend’s voice?” He gave a fond smile. “Then suddenly Neta barges into my room, telling me she’s done watching me sulk. She dragged me out by the collar all the way to Athicha’s, who was just as surprised. Sat us both down and started going over the basic signs. We met almost every day for months, learning from her, and I think that is when Athicha’s views on her started to change. They started teasing each other in a good way. Finally, I came in for one of our last lessons and found the two of them kissing against the wall, already half naked.”

Khana laughed. The story reminded her a bit of Itehua, how he used to be so acerbic.

Sava shook his head. “Is that for the inn?”

She held up the bagged soap in her hand. “Oh. Not quite. It’s for Amati.”

Sava winced. “Ah. Haz told me she wasn’t doing too well.”

She shook her head. “I offered to help, but…”

“She’s lived a long, happy life,” Sava concluded. “This is, honestly, what we all hope to achieve.”

Khana hadn’t thought about it that way. She spent so long focusing on surviving the month – if not the day – that she didn’t give much consideration to growing old. But she supposed that was the ultimate objective.

“Not Yamueto,” she murmured.

“Well, I don’t think any of us are looking up to him as an example.”

“Master Pinnsviri is.”

He grimaced. “All right, most sensible people aren’t.”

She hummed, then decided to change subjects again. “Sunflower lotion?”

He looked around conspiratorially, then lowered his voice: “Don’t tell anyone, but it’s a favorite of both my mother and father’s.”

“The chief ?” Khana gasped. Phramanka had always seemed too scary to have something as human as delicate tastes. Thriman, too, though not as much.

“Mm-hm. And if those traders knew, they’d charge even more.”

“I think this may blow your cover.” She poked his soft wolf fur.

“They only visit for a week or so before leaving. They haven’t quite figured out what an Old Family is or how to spot us. So, don’t go telling.”

“I am forever silent,” Khana promised.

It was a lovely day, the air warm and the ground muddy, the snow almost completely gone. Sometimes she missed the tropical heat of Regualli, but she couldn’t deny that the cool summer days were growing on her. Especially since it meant Sava wore short sleeves under his cloak, showing off his arms.

She thought about her dream. Her eyes went to his mouth as she wondered if his trim beard was soft or coarse. The thought of finding out sent a little thrill through her, washed with a sense of panic. The old, familiar fear of what would happen if they did get close…

Which was ridiculous. Sava was nothing like Yamueto, and she was furious with herself for even thinking such a thing. And yet, that fear was rooted in the core of her being, its tendrils wrapped around her spine.

“Khana?” Sava asked, jolting her into the present.

“Sorry,” she said. “I got lost in thought. I… have far too much laundry waiting for me.”

“And I have more shopping to do,” he agreed with a secret little smile.

“All right.” She braced herself, then went in for a quick hug. It was too fast for Sava to properly get his arms around her before she fled, calling, “See you later!” over her shoulder as she was certain her face caught fire.

She did not go to the inn. Instead, she went to one of the three local brothels in town.

Lueti was not among the (mostly young Reguallian) men and women, dressed in dusky pink and hanging against the walls of the skinny stone building, calling out to potential clients. Khana braced herself and approached one of the women, who smiled at her sweetly. “What type of fun are you looking for, little witch?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not here to pay for… service. I need to speak with Lueti. Is she busy?”

“Probably not. Hold on.” The prostitute turned to go inside before being knocked aside when a man was thrown out the doorway, the moose fur door almost tearing off the frame.

“He said ‘no gags’!” Lueti snarled, storming out of the building. “What part of that did you not understand?”

“Found her,” the young prostitute snickered, leaning against the wall she’d been pushed against.

The man sat up from the ground, spitting out a mouthful of blood that ran down his nose. His pants were half-off, and he struggled to pull them up as everyone on the street stared at him. “I paid for pleasure. He owes it to me! And it’s not as if I hurt him!”

“If you wanted to use a gag, we would’ve found someone happy to do that with you,” Lueti snapped.

Khana silently stepped away from her. Not because she was afraid of Lueti, but to get behind the man now getting to his feet. Built thick like a soldier, he was probably a part of their militia.

“All right, fine, I won’t do it again,” he grumbled.

“I don’t care. You’re banned from this establishment.”

“But I already paid him!”

“Don’t care. Go.”

“I want my money back!” he shouted, stepping forward.

Lueti got into a ready position, the same one Neta had spent hours teaching them. But it was unnecessary.

Khana touched the man’s back and sucked in a breath. ?ji flowed from him to her, making him stumble and her glow. Several onlookers gasped, one even screamed. She didn’t care.

The man turned, almost falling back down. “You… you witch .”

“Take one more step, and I take the last of your life,” Khana promised him.

He stayed still, wide-eyed and fuming.

“Is your friend injured?” Khana asked Lueti, not taking her eyes off their enemy.

“No, darling. Just shaken.”

“Are we bringing this to the chief?”

Lueti glanced into the building. Khana chanced a quick look, seeing the silhouette of a young man before glaring back at his attacker.

Lueti and the boy whispered before she said, “No. We just want him gone.”

Khana shrugged and gave the man back his life force.

He jumped, scrambling away from her and the brothel. He hesitated, squaring his jaw. “I want my money back.”

Lueti barked a laugh. “You’re lucky you’re getting your life back. If we see you again, we’re breaking bones. I don’t care how much you pay.”

Still grumbling, the man left. Lueti whispered a few words to her friend before strolling up to Khana, beaming. “Thank you for the back-up.”

“Of course. And sorry, I know you have to work. I can come back later…?”

“Oh, please.” Lueti slipped her wiry arm through Khana’s and walked her down the street. “At my age, I don’t get nearly as many clients. Most of my time these days is spent training and… well, matchmaking, for lack of a better term. Matching the client’s desires to the workers’ so we don’t have to deal with the mess you just helped me clean up. Anyway, you didn’t come all the way over here to listen to me prattle. What’s on your mind?”

“Uh, well…” Khana’s face flushed. “I wanted to ask, since you’re the expert, or at least the closest thing to it. What does it mean when you have a – an explicit dream about someone?”

Lueti raised her eyebrows. “That can mean any number of things. It could mean absolutely nothing. But in your case… This is the first time?”

She flushed. “Ever.”

“Then it may perhaps be a sign of healing. Was it about someone specific?”

Khana looked down.

Lueti leaned closer. “Someone a bit wolf-like , perhaps?”

“Shush.”

She cackled. “I tease because I love, darling.”

“But that’s part of the problem,” Khana vented. “I was talking to him just before coming to you, and I wanted to… I thought about… but then I got scared. Like I always do. All I could do was hug him. And that’s the first time I’ve even done that much.”

Lueti gently took her hand. “You must be patient with yourself. This dream? It’s a good sign, but only a single step. If you push yourself too hard, you could damage your mind and soul further.”

Khana huffed with impatience, biting back tears. “I just want to be better now . What if he gets impatient?”

“Then kick him in the balls. It won’t be a big loss.”

“Lueti!”

“I’m serious! Would it be all right for you to push him into something he’s not comfortable doing?”

She paused. “No.”

“How about Haz? What if someone pressured him into bed before he was good and ready?”

Her vision went red at just the thought. “No!”

“Then there you go.” Lueti squeezed her hand. “Give yourself the kindness of healing on your own terms. Everyone will be much happier for it.”

Khana sighed but nodded in agreement.

“Now, in the meantime, there are ways that you can guage yourself,” Lueti said. “Have you tried touching yourself between the legs?”

She said it so matter-of-factly. Khana’s face heated. “Um… no. People do that?”

“Sometimes. It’s a good way to figure out what you like or don’t like in a safe environment. Try it, the next time you have one of these dreams. But again, don’t push yourself too hard. Go at your own pace.”

That wasn’t the advice she had expected to hear, but she was grateful for it. “Thank you, Lueti. Stay safe, all right?”

The old woman’s smile was a sharp, vicious thing. “Don’t worry about me, darling. There are plenty of knives and teapots where I work.”