Night Witch

Chapter 39

"So, let's begin." His tone was even lazier than his temperament. "April: We say there's a Trader's Day here in Moracia, but the truth is that the Traders seem to come year round. Some of them come seeking shelter from a storm and stay awhile at the inn. Others are scared of the Forest of the Dead and this is their stopping point, where they realize how afraid they are and go back to other places. I don't see why that would stop them. It wouldn't stop me." He paused. "Wow. She's bold."

"Keep reading."

He flipped his hand in the air. "Fine," he said, his tone nasal, before continuing the journal. "Today Russell Pinkerton invited these new Traders into his fancy stone house." Hans set the book down yet again, the leather giving a soft tap against the stones. "I remember that house. It was pretty, you know? I had a nice childhood there." She could feel his eyes on the back of her neck, causing the hairs there to rise up. "Do you remember it?"

"Keep. Reading."

"It was lucky they were here, because Vasilisa and I have been running low on food for a good while, and with winter still thawing out, we needed a trade to keep ourselves alive. So the maps I had recently bought had to go away, and the new dress that Ma had gotten for us to share when courting season came around had to go too." She could hear the odd sound of a page flipping. "This is boring," Hans--the monster--complained, "and it's useless. I'm going to flip through."

She felt suddenly angry, as though her soul had been replaced by fire that harnessed itself in tightly clenched fists and gritted teeth. "No. You keep reading."

"Karina, there's literally a whole page more of all this useless chatter. It's silly to read. Then it's the next month, and the next month, and why do you want to do this again?"

She couldn't honestly answer the question, not without admitting to the strange mystery of Mara Hedge. Her name had popped up over and over again, and the Hedge tacked onto the end fascinated her more than was safe. Especially when she was trapped in a basement with a traitor.

"You...you choose what's important to read." It felt like an added weight to her shoulders, to trust him with such a thing. She looked at the goods in front of her, took a swig from the flask. She wasn't just looking for a way out anymore, but for food. Her stomach had been aching with hunger for a good long while now, and she'd been a fool not to acknowledge it before. 

"The two new Traders look magickal to me, though Vasilisa tells me I'm a fool for thinking so and that I read too many novels. But since she's fantasizing that they're royalty who will carry her away to be made a duchess or something, I feel like I'm less of a fool. I have reason to believe that they are, because I got a good look at what they were carrying. Pots made of glass and scrolls too old to be anything but magickal. Plus, I could see a basket full of herbs that didn't look like any of the ones Vasilisa uses in midwifery or healing. And if they're not magickal, why would they be carrying around poison?" 

The monster paused. She could almost hear his brow creasing, his befuddled expression. "This is weird."

"You're a fool."

"I am, aren't I? I think I'd make a great one if I could do it professionally. I'd just have to learn to juggle." She was just about ready to turn on him when he continued. "Either way, we had a banquet for them similar to the one we have on Ancestor's Day. Even the bonfire was made up all special.

They left a week later. Everyone else has brushed off the strangeness of it, but I haven't. I plan to find out exactly what Russell Pinkerton is doing with these men and the magick he condemns." 

"Is that it?"

"For this month."

"Then why did you pause?"