Page 47 of The Witch who Trades with Death
Chapter Forty-Seven
The march back to town was much more somber. Phramanka had ordered a retreat to regroup with the rest of the militia, now that they didn’t know which mountain pass the Reguallians would be using. They also needed to tend to their dead and remaining wounded.
Out of habit, Khana went for her lute. But it wasn’t the classical songs or bawdy tunes that had filled the air on their way up. Instead, she turned to the grieving melodies and lullabies that were far more familiar to her. No one told her to stop, so she didn’t. Purging her grief this way gave her some relief, as it did several others she caught crying or quietly singing along.
The soldiers returned to Pahuuda with the similar reaction of adoring crowds, but it was muted. More bodies had to be carried to their families than last time.
But over the next few days, the mood gradually brightened. Khana could only marvel at their resilience as the funerals finished and life returned to normal. People shopped. Children played. The inn returned to its busy times. Khana was called to tend to the odd injury or illness, and to her surprise, people were more willing to pay her, even though she still didn’t explicitly charge. A few coins, a meat pie, an old but good-quality dress. She even got some smiles.
A little over a week after the battle, Khana braced herself for the dinner rush. It was mid-afternoon and already customers trickled in. The Poison Darts had already claimed their corner.
“Hey, witch!” someone called. “Heard you playing the lute up the mountain. You doing that tonight?”
She didn’t recognize the face, but he was probably a Red Frog.
Khana hesitated for a beat. But whether it was the warmth and safety of the inn or the bit of practice she’d had boosting her confidence, she found herself saying, “Let me get it from my room.”
She left the dining hall to the sounds of her unit cheering. When she came back down the stairs, Heimili stopped her. He motioned to her instrument. “You play tonight, that’s fine. But your tips come from that, not from the inn’s pot.”
She nodded in agreement. Then found herself standing in the middle of a crowded dining room, holding her lute, every eye on her.
The attention made her squirm. She cleared her throat and shyly asked, “Requests?”
“The Wolf Woman!” someone shouted.
Khana knew that one, but not well. It was usually sung in brothels. “I don’t know the lyrics, so Lueti? Care to help?”
The old whore chugged her drink and joined Khana in the middle of the floor with a grin. The minute Khana struck her strings, the inn was filled with one of the filthiest songs she’d ever heard. She was fairly sure Lueti made up some of the lyrics, given the shocked laughter from the patrons. A few people threw coins at them, and Haz slid a bowl across the floor to help Khana collect them.
So it went. When Khana knew the lyrics to a requested song, she sang. But when she wasn’t familiar, she snagged a member of her unit or a volunteering customer to be her voice, often paying for their next drink with the accumulating coin.
Eventually she took a brief break to rest, eat, and drink. Her fingers buzzed. Her whole body vibrated. The power and elation almost felt like drinking life force on a battlefield, but it was different. Purer.
Lueti, Itehua, and Yxe bent their heads together, talking about something. Haz was busy with customers. So in between bites of chuta, Khana sat by Xopil and Neta, who had been calmly watching the events of the evening, as she usually did, with a little smile on her face.
“I think you found your calling,” the serji commented.
“It’s certainly more fun than being shot at,” Khana admitted. She hesitated to bring it up because she didn’t want to spoil the evening. But she’d seen the way Neta’s uncle had barely looked at her, even when returning from the battlefield. Not a “well done” or even a “how are you?” He had glanced at her, then turned away, like she didn’t exist.
“How’s… the family?” she said lamely.
“My mother’s doing great. She’s a seamstress, so you can imagine all the rags the soldiers have been giving her to fix up. She’s been dancing around a friend of hers worse than you are with Sava, but maybe the festival ended that,” she mused.
Khana and Xopil shared a brief look. The big man said plainly, “Your Cituva family are idiots. If I had a child like you – bastard, refugee, or otherwise – I’d be so proud I’d never stop talking about them.”
Her smile was fleeting. “I know what you’re both doing. Don’t worry about it. I came to peace with the fact that most of my relatives will always see me as lesser long ago. And they’re wrong. Anytime I find myself forgetting, I have my cloak to remind me. And Athicha. And now, I have my unit.”
Xopil nudged her with his elbow. “Good.”
“We still worry,” Khana admitted.
Neta looked past her. “I’d worry a little more about yourself.”
Khana followed her gaze and squeaked. Sava strode into the room, Athicha behind him, scanning the crowd until his eyes landed on her.
She found her voice. “Hello, Sava!”
“’Evening.” He sat on Haz’s abandoned cushion. Athicha sat with Neta, kissing her cheek. Sava cleared this throat. “Sorry we’re late. We got some scout reports from the mountain.”
Everyone leaned forward. “And?” Neta demanded.
“The Empire’s split its forces. One group’s going west, probably looking for the path there. The other has slaves and night creatures digging through the rubble. Big night creatures, too. They’re guessing elephants and gorillas of some sort.”
“Trying to make us divide our smaller force into even smaller chunks,” Neta murmured.
“Exactly.” His grin was crooked. “But the western trail is treacherous, even to natives. Yellow and Green Battalions will help Mother Mountain take care of them. Blue and Red will continue to go at the main force, and the other battalions are staying in the east to protect the coastal route to the capital.”
Khana forced herself to finish her chuta. She couldn’t let her stomach turn squeamish now.
“What about the rest of the kingdom?” Neta asked.
“Wreaking havoc on any ships Yamueto sends, from what I hear. Sneaking up on them in the night, stealing supplies, killing the crew, then disappearing. Guerrilla tactics.”
Neta nodded in approval.
Sava shook himself. “But enough of that. I heard you playing.”
Khana beamed. “I’ve been getting a lot of practice.”
“Hey, witch!” someone called. “You still playing?”
“Yes, yes,” she replied, finishing a swig of ale and getting to her feet.
Lueti caught her eye and glanced meaningfully at Sava. He’s waiting for you.
Khana bit her lip, then held her hand out to the chief’s son. “Do you mind?” she asked. “I’ve found it’s a lot easier doing this with someone else.”
He smiled warmly and took her hand. “I would be honored.”
The next couple of hours passed in a blur of music, dance, and laughter. Unlike Khana, Sava knew how to properly work a crowd, dancing between groups of people while singing or playing his flute, nimbly stepping around drinks and plates. Khana and her unit could rouse a handful of drunken patrons into singing along, but Sava had the entire dining hall joining in with practically no effort. She would’ve been content hanging back, sticking to the strings, but he pulled her along with him, and she improvised her role in his dance. Everyone got sucked into his whirlpool, and Khana had every intention of drowning in it.
Eventually, as the sun set and the night drew on, customers began to leave. Fewer requests came, and Sava suggested slower, calmer songs to send them off. Haz, Heimili, and the rest of the staff started cleaning, making the motions of closing for the night. Xopil was the first Poison Dart to leave, as usual. Heimili and Haz piled him high with leftovers to bring to his family, and the big man gave Khana a hug on his way out. Yxe was next, slightly tipsy, with Lueti and Itehua making sure he got home safe. Neta and Athicha hugged Sava before they left, saying, “Get plenty of rest. We’ll need it.”
“Well done,” Heimili told her as the last of the customers trickled out. “I know my mother was… stingy with her approval. But she would have loved to see that.”
Khana smiled, pressing her hand against Heimili’s thick arm. “Thank you. All of you.”
By then, Sava was the only customer left. Khana counted the coins in her bowl, pleasantly surprised to see it almost full. Not bad. It was more than she usually made for tips, and she was fairly sure Sava was largely responsible.
“Here,” she said, giving him half.
“Ha. No.” He pushed them back into her hand. “My family’s one of the richest in town. I do this for fun, not money.”
She knew it was futile to argue with him, so she pocketed the coin and helped clean up. Quite a few cushions needed to be taken to the back room. Khana piled them into her arms one after another and was just realizing that she’d need to take two trips when Sava scooped up her burden. “I got it.”
“Entertaining the crowd and cleaning up? Heimili should hire you,” she teased, gathering the last of the cushions.
He shrugged. “I don’t have anywhere else to be tonight.”
He followed her through the back hall, to the laundry room. Khana dropped her burden on the floor and motioned to where Sava should drop his. She bit her lip. “Do you think we’re going to win?” she asked quietly. “The war.”
Sava crossed his arms and leaned against the stone wall. Outside of his armor, with just a blue wool shirt and trousers, it was the most casual she’d ever seen him. He didn’t even have his wolf cloak. She mirrored his stance.
“I think we have a much better chance than any other kingdom,” he answered. “The natural terrain is our biggest asset, and we’ve been a warrior people for centuries.”
She hummed, looking down.
“Are you scared?” he asked.
“Every day,” she admitted. “You’re not?”
Sava’s mouth quirked. “Terrified.”
“You’re much better at hiding it than me.”
He shrugged. “Years of practice.”
“Why become a soldier in the first place if you’re so scared, instead of a bard?”
He blew out a breath, giving the question serious thought. “Lots of reasons. Sense of duty; this is my home, and I want to protect it. I can’t do that with a flute. I’m a good archer. People like following me and I like taking care of them… and… I can’t stay behind. That – I’ve done that before.”
Khana made a small sound of encouragement. “Your last lover?”
Sava cleared his throat. “Myrta. She went to fight Tlaphar – her and Athicha and Neta. I… decided not to go. My father was sick – a high fever. We didn’t know if he was going to make it. Myrta agreed with my decision, said to look after my family, and that she’d be back within a few days.”
“She died,” Khana finished.
He nodded. “One of the units got pinned down by Tlapharian archers. An arrow got Athicha in the neck…” He motioned across his throat, where the mute soldier’s scar was. “The commanders were down, so Myrta and Neta took charge. Neta led a group of soldiers to distract the archers while Myrta’s unit fetched Athicha and the other wounded. She helped carry them, slowing her down. They were almost to full cover when she was hit with an arrow through the chest.”
She put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”
He cleared his throat. “Thank you, though it’s no one’s fault. I know that. I’d have done the exact same thing. But I can’t sit back this time. Especially not when people I care about are out fighting, when you are jumping onto rock walls to fight a company of archers single-handedly. The dream of being a bard is just going to have to wait for safer times.”
Khana swallowed. “What if we’re never safe?”
He smiled. It wasn’t sad or resigned, but bright and gentle in a way that made her stomach flip. “There are other dreams.”
The silence stretched as Khana struggled to think of something to say.
Sava cleared his throat and stepped back. “I should let you get some sleep.”
He walked past her to leave the room. Frustration and want mixed in Khana’s stomach, finally potent enough to make her to reach out and catch him.
He blinked in surprise when she gripped his arm, pulling him away from the hall. Khana jumped on her toes before she could talk herself out of it and pressed her lips against his.
His beard scratched at her skin, giving way to soft lips that shifted and opened as soon as he got over his shock. Khana gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. Gentle fingers carded through her hair at the nape of her neck.
Gravity pulled Khana back down, her toes cramped. She was ready to ignore it and go again when Sava gripped her waist and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around him as he pressed her against the wall and, now at an even height, kissed her first.
This was so much better. Her hands explored his cheeks, hair, shoulders, while he nipped at her mouth and neck, his weight pressing her in place. She whimpered when he found a sensitive spot on her jaw just beneath her ear, awakening a near-feral hunger. He groaned when she scratched his scalp.
They stayed in the laundry room for gods knew how long, time blurring as they kissed and petted. Sava pulled back first, stopping Khana from chasing after his mouth with a hand to her cheek. “Wonderful as this is, we should probably move somewhere more private if we want to keep going,” he panted.
Khana blinked. It took her squishy, suddenly slow mind a while to comprehend what “keep going” meant. When it did, the thread of panic that unfurled in her spine made her drop her face against his shoulder and groan. “Fuck.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good fuck,” he commented.
“No,” she grumbled. “I… argh! I want it. I want you . But I know if we ‘keep going,’ I’m going to panic or start thinking about Yamueto. I’m not – not ready. For that. I’m–”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” he scolded.
Khana bit her lip, keeping her face on his shoulder. Even when she was finally being brave, she was a coward.
Sava stepped away from the wall and set her gently on her feet, forcing her to look up at him. “If you’re not ready, you’re not ready. I have two perfectly good hands for that, and they’ve already had quite a bit of exercise since I met you. A little while longer won’t be much of an issue.”
“Sava!” she laughed.
“You look really good in armor,” he said unapologetically. “Better with the lute.”
She went back to hiding her face, muffling her laughs. Sava kissed the top of her head. “If you want me to leave, I’ll leave,” he whispered. “If you want me to stay and do nothing but sleep and cuddle, or more kissing, we’ll do that.”
He hesitated. Khana peeked up at him.
“And it’s not just fucking,” he said at length. “If you want to try some gentler bedsports – with you on top, or me – then I can do that, too. Whatever you want. I’m not picky.”
Khana thought about that for a moment. She was fairly sure she knew what he was talking about. A couple of concubines had started sleeping with each other at the Reguallian palace. It had been the court’s juiciest gossip for a few days, and Yamueto hadn’t much cared because it wouldn’t result in any pregnancies or problems for him.
She still got a tiny curl of unease in her gut, but not as intense as before.
“Can we start with cuddling and then see how I feel?” she asked.
He beamed. “That sounds like an excellent idea.”