“No. Don’t. Thank you.” Salka reached out and squeezed his hand. He stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, till a small cough from Miriat reminded him that he was unwelcome.
Miriat didn’t speak again until she was certain Dran was out of earshot. She gestured, and Salka grudgingly followed her into the house. Miriat tied the leather panels across the door before she spoke again. The low orange light danced across her face as she strained against her anger.
“Are you insane?” she nearly hissed. “Have you a single thought for your future or your safety here?”
“You mean besides taking your poison every day and following every new rule that pops into your head?” Salka said through clenched teeth. “I’ve sat on this stool every day for weeks, brushing and spinning the wool. More wool than our nanny has produced in the last four years, by the way. You think I don’t know you traded for it to keep me occupied? I’m not a child anymore, I don’t need you to protect me!”
Curious approached her with a small whine and nibbled on her sleeve. She pushed its head away.
“Clearly you do!” Miriat made an impatient gesture. “The one time I agreed to you spending a day out of the village gates, look what happened! It’s not for much longer, all you need is a bit more patience and then you’ll be safe. And Dran could put it all at risk!”
Salka sucked in a breath. She straightened herself. Her mother’s suspicion of Dran upset her more than she cared to admit. “A little more is a lot to ask when my head aches so much I can barely see most days. And you don’t have to trust Dran. I do. He has no suspicions of me. Never once has he accused me of anything, or judged me. You think I don’t see you check that I drink every last drop of this vile concoction you give me? Or that you watch my shadow more than you watch my face?”
Miriat turned away. “How can I trust you after what you did? You fed your other heart, in spite of all I’ve told you. In spite of all you’ve been taught. You see the spinning as a punishment, child? You should count yourself lucky. A small, safe life is the best that one can hope for in this world. The sooner you accept it, the sooner you’ll find contentment. There is nothing more I hope for now, Salka.” Miriat looked at her hands, all the fight gone out of her.
Salka wanted to tell her of the endless sky beyond the Windry Pass, and of the wild, joyful freedom of the other heart and the knowledge it brought her. But there were no words she could find to make her mother understand.
So they faced each other, each one staring at the gulf that opened between them.
Curious rammed into Salka’s leg suddenly, nearly toppling her. She looked at it in surprise, started by its cry. A distressed bleating came from outside.
“Something’s wrong” Miriat looked up sharply. “Where’s the doe?”
“Still tied outside,” Salka said, already on her way out of the door.
CHAPTER 24
Salka’s arms were bloodied up to the elbows. Their goat had been giving birth for the best part of an hour already, and the house was filled with a metallic smell. Miriat had her hands gently placed on the goat’s belly, pressing and feeling her way around the twin kids inside. The doe’s eyes were wide with terror and her breathing was shallow.
“The kids are not positioned right, but I can’t correct it myself,” Miriat said. “You must run to get Rida. She will know what to do.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes. The room was warm, too warm, and they both had sweat running down their faces.
“She won’t come if I ask for her,” Salka said, her eyes down. “She wouldn’t even look at me, not since I came back.”
Miriat swore under her breath. “Well, then tell the petty bitch she can have one of the kids if she saves the doe!” Salka was taken aback. They needed those kids. They hadn’t been able to afford the goating price for two years now, but the help in birthing was the one thing none of the community should charge for. Her trip to the Heyne Town continued to cost them. She nodded and left the house, pushing aside the heavy leathers of the door. She moved at a sprint and was soon at Emila’s family’s door. She knocked hard and waited, shivering. In her hurry she hadn’t brought a cloak with her, and the Heyne nights were a cold affair.
The door opened, and Emila’s face peeped out. Her hair was wet, and the room smelled of arrowroot. Rida had no use for waste and used the same water to wash Emila’s hair and the clothes.
“What are you doing?” Emila said. “You know you’re not supposed to come here!”
“Who is it, child?” Rida’s voice rose up. Salka could swear the woman never had a good-humored day in her life. Salka gave Emila a curt nod and pushed past her.
“It’s me, Aunt Rida,” she said.
Rida stiffened at seeing Salka. Tolan looked up from his chair and Salka imagined she saw a brief expression of sympathy running through his face.
“What do you want?” Rida said. She shot her husband a glance that threatened serious consequences at the slightest show of hospitality.
“Our goat’s birthing. There is something wrong and we need your skills,” Salka said. “Please,” she added.
Rida smiled one of her less pleasant smiles and returned to washing her clothes. “I see. My daughter was in danger not so long ago, all because of you and your wild antics. And here you expect me to jump to your assistance the moment you ask?” She stared Salka down.
“My mother said you may have one of the kids if you can keep the doe alive,” Salka said.
Rida threw the cloth she was washing down into the tub with a fury. The soapy water splashed onto the dirt floor. “I see. So now you and your mother seek to insult me!”
Salka looked to Tolan for assistance, but he had none to offer. “I didn’t… I don’t–” she sputtered.
“It is our custom and law to assist each other in such matters. As your mother would know, had she been a real striga. As you would know, had your mother raised you right!” She pointed a bony finger at Salka’s face. “Yet you want to bribe me to help you? Well, I will show you that a real striga needs no bribes to use her skills when needed. Emila, my coat!”
Emila brought Rida her warm coat, which Rida took her time draping around her shoulders. She strode towards the door. As she opened it with one hand she paused for a moment. “Of course, should your mother wish to thank me for my assistance with a gift of a kid and – I don’t know – a basket of onions or so, then, of course, I will accept. Emila, follow me. There will be skills to be learnt today.” Rida strode forward like a queen, with Salka and Emila following meekly, both afraid to breathe too loudly, in case it should bring Rida’s fury upon them.
When they reached Miriat’s house, Rida stopped for a moment. “Salka, stay here. I don’t wish to be disturbed by you. And make sure to keep that filthy bird away too, unless you want me to make him into soup. Emila, follow me.” Emila gave Salka an embarrassed smile and followed her mother inside.
Rida’s words made Salka realize that she hadn’t seen Munu since the morning. She walked a little way and whistled on her fingers. There was no answer. The evening air made her shiver. Ever since she started taking Dola’s potion, half the time she felt as if she’d been plunged neck-high into snow. It was odd to think that this was how humans must have felt the entire time. Cold and alone. She whistled again and again, but was met only with silence.
She walked among the small houses and huts used for keeping tools and food stores overwinter. Nobody bothered locking anything away. Thievery was reserved for humans, if occasion struck.
“Munu!” she called out. It was unlike him to not respond to her calls. Salka furrowed her eyebrows. Her falcon was getting old. Many small feathers around his beak were touched with silver, as if frost had drawn patterns on it with the smallest of brushes. One day soon, Salka knew, he would not answer her call. But it wouldn’t be today.
A screech pierced the cold air, sending her running. It came from right behind the well. As she approached, a shape moved in the dark.
“I see I got your atte
ntion.” Kalina leaned against the well, as if the wildly thrashing sack in her hand was nothing unusual.
Salka froze. She bared her teeth without realizing. “Let him go.”
“Shan’t.” Kalina gave Salka a friendly smile. “Unless you tell me how you hid the pollution of your other heart. Otherwise, we’ll see if your bird can swim.” She held the sack over the well.
“Don’t hurt him!” Salka raised her hands. “It was Alma who told my mother to save his life! She will punish you if you hurt him.”
“Alma?” Kalina laughed. “She wouldn’t hear a complaint from you now!”
“Why are you doing this?” Salka pleaded. She could hear Munu’s muffled shrieks and her eyes filled with tears. She hated those tears, they were a poor way to express the rage she felt. She looked at Kalina’s face and she craved her power back, so much that she could almost feel it surge through her body. Instead, all that she felt was the pounding in her head, getting worse every moment.
“Admit it,” Kalina said. “You broke the law and followed your heart. Admit it! You’re a stigoi.”
The word of hatred hit Salka like a slap on the face and she could feel her cheeks begin to burn.
“I’m not. You look at my shadow! Look at it! If I was a stigoi, don’t you think I would tear Munu from your hands right now? Don’t you think I would hurt you for doing this?”
Kalina hesitated. But then her face hardened again. “I suppose we’ll see. Catch!” Kalina threw the sack with Munu up in the air above the well.
Salka threw herself forward, but even as she ran, she knew she would never get to him in time. Tears streamed down her face, and she willed her shadow to leap forward, to catch Munu. But nothing came. The sack fell down, and in a moment, a muffled splash was heard in the square.
“No!” Salka yelled. She ran to the well and threw the bucket in. She turned the crank. It seemed an eternity before the bucket came back up, filled with water, but no Munu.
Salka’s face was wet with tears, but she ignored them. Again, and again, she threw the bucket back in the water, and again and again it came back empty.
Kalina was standing to the side, watching Salka with a shocked face. Color leached from her skin as she watched Salka’s increasingly frantic labor.
After the third time the bucket came up empty, Kalina seemed to come to a decision. She walked up to the crank and put her hands next to Salka’s. She put her weight behind it, and the bucket whizzed up and down the well. Salka couldn’t see Kalina. All she looked at was the crank, turning, turning. All she could see was the bucket coming back empty, again and again.
Kalina picked up a stone and threw it in the bucket to make it sink faster. This time, it came back up heavier. Salka screamed when she saw the sack come up. She threw herself at it and attempted to untie the string with her trembling wet hands. The knot was wet, and it held tight. Kalina walked up quietly, slipped out her skinning knife, and with one movement cut through the string.
The fabric fell off, and inside, unmoving, lay Munu. His wet feathers glistened in the moonlight. “No… Oh please, Munu… No, please…” Salka touched his beak gently and lifted him up. His head lolled back. Salka keened and held the body of her falcon to her chest.
Kalina stood a few steps away. “I was so certain – I was so sure you were using some trick – I was sure he wouldn’t fall.”
With a mad shriek, Salka threw herself at Kalina, surprising her. Kalina was heavier, but she was not prepared for the fury that overtook Salka. The girl thrashed, pulled and hit like a mad dog. She bit down hard on Kalina’s shoulder. Kalina screamed and tried to push her away. Salka only chomped down harder. She ignored Kalina’s fists pummeling her back and the hot blood that burst into her mouth. She ground her teeth and pulled, until a lump of flesh came off. She spat it out and turned around, wild-eyed, ready to attack again. A fist to the head knocked her off her feet.
Kalina kicked Salka in the stomach to keep her down. Blood was flowing freely from the woman’s shoulder, and she was blinded by pain and helpless anger. She moved her leg back to kick Salka again, as the girl lay on the ground clutching her stomach. But another’s hand pulled Kalina away.
“No!” a voice called out. “You’ve done enough!” Kalina watched in disbelief as Dran strode up to the weeping Salka and, with some considerable effort, scooped her up in his arms.
“I saw what you did, Pike!” Dran yelled.
Kalina shrunk as he shouted, his handsome face contorted with anger.
“For no reason you, attacked her! You killed her animal. Make no mistake, striga, you will be punished for it.”
Salka watched Dran through tear-stained eyes. He held her closer to his chest and she was comforted by the warmth of him. She was wrapped in his shadow and felt safe.
Kalina stood there stupidly, blood pouring down her tunic, looking wide-eyed at Dran. “But I… I didn’t mean to–”
“Shut up!” Dran growled. “Get out of my sight. You don’t have to use your powers to be a stigoi. You managed it all on your own by not using either of your hearts.” Dran turned around and walked off towards a bench.
Kalina stood there for a moment, ignored, watching as Dran gently put Salka down, and pushed her hair out of her face. He took out his handkerchief and wiped away her tears and the blood staining her face.
Kalina turned around and staggered away.
Had Kalina looked up, she might have noticed Emila watching as Salka collapsed crying in Dran’s arms. Watching, as Dran placed a kiss on her forehead. Emila waited until the pair left, Salka stopping only to pick up Munu’s pitiful small body off the ground. Then, quite calmly, Emila drew up a bucket of water from the well as her mother had asked, and walked back towards Miriat’s house. Once inside, she set the bucket down, and, ignoring her mother’s questions, walked straight towards Alma’s house.
CHAPTER 25
“It’s good you came,” Miriat wrung her hands and gestured towards the house. “Salka says she will no longer take the potion. What if her shadow comes back?”
Dola nodded. “Did she say what happened?”
“No. She just sits there in silence. But Munu’s gone. Something must have happened. I was hoping you might know…” She looked at Dola expectantly. She usually would not question Dola’s timely appearances and would wait for her to volunteer what she had seen, but this time Miriat was desperate.
Dola shook her head. “I haven’t seen what happened with my eyes or in a vision. But I thought something of this kind might happen. Perhaps even at Alma’s behest,” she added before walking towards Miriat’s house. She pushed aside the leathers blocking the entrance and gestured to Miriat to stay outside.
Dola entered the small house and immediately saw the doe, nursing its twin kids. It was eyeing her with disinterest, chewing on the hay lovingly placed before it. The room was filled with the sickly-sweet smell of afterbirth and the kids, so small and soft, now scrambling for the teat as their patient, exhausted mother lay resting.
“The kids look healthy. It’s a blessing. Your mother must be very pleased.”
There was no reply.
“I hear a sad thing happened. Want to tell me about it?” Dola said.
“You’re the Dola. You tell me,” Salka said. She sat cross-legged on her bed, her tear-stained face rigid with anger.
Dola sighed and walked up to the bed. “Scooch over.”
Salka didn’t budge.
“You’re not going to make a pregnant woman stand while you sit, are you?”
Salka moved to the side, her expression sullen.
“Now that we’re finally both comfortable,” Dola said, stroking her belly, “you can tell me all about it. I’m told Munu is not here and that bird never leaves your side, that much I know. Do you want to know what else I know?”
“No, but I bet you will tell me anyway,” Salka said with a grimace. She was wedged into a corner, with Dola taking up most of her bed.
“Well, so I will. See, all o
f us have some small powers of premonition, it would seem.” Dola gave a mirthless chuckle. “If that falcon of yours is gone, then he is gone for good. And if you want your powers back then it is to punish whatever or whoever took him.”
Salka didn’t reply. Her face, however, could hide nothing.
“Look here, I have some answers for you. Not all of them, but enough for now.”
The girl looked up to meet Dola’s serious gaze, and nodded.
“Now what I told your mama, that was what one might call a lie.”
Salka’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“The moment you stop taking the potion, your powers will come back, and there will be no stemming them.”
“I hope they do! I hope they come right out and strangle her! I hope they–”
“Listen to me! It’s important.” Dola reached out, causing Salka to flinch. But she only put her hand gently to Salka’s face. “You’ve been having headaches, yes?”
Salka nodded.
“You can’t stop the other heart for long, dear, it will always reassert itself. You are who you are and what you are is a striga. Your powers will be back, stronger than before and your shadow will be back to betray you. You must wait for the right moment to release it. And it cannot be in the village.”
“So… Pike was right. I am a stigoi?” Salka’s eyes filled with tears. She held her head between her hands as if it were ready to split in two.
Dola drew Salka to her chest. Dola smelled of leaves and cloves and Salka let herself be comforted.
“Now you listen to me,” Dola spoke in a raspy voice. “Pike is a sad fool, who poisons herself to ward off her own soul, pushing her second heart down till she’s able to think of nothing else.
“Stigoi is just a word for what folk fear you could become. The strigas took that word and threw all their own fear and shame at it until it became a monster they neither knew nor understood. You can use your other heart for ill or for good, just as a hand can strike as well as comfort a friend. You hold that knowledge inside you, you hold it close. But all the same…” Dola raised Salka’s face and looked her in the eyes. “All the same, like I told you once before, it does change you. It has already changed you, in ways that cannot be undone. You must learn to handle it, the best you can. And you can’t do it here.”
The Second Bell Page 15
