29th of summer, 517
18th Bell
18th Bell
"I'm looking for a woman named Ssanya. Well, that's not her real name. Her real name is crazy long and involves a lot of spit and tongue acrobatics. She's about this big. Dark skin, darker eyes. Dhani. Might be poisonous. Oh god, do you think she's poisonous? I've never asked. You think that would be a thing you ask your best friend, but nope. Never occurred to me."
Micha Netven blinked dumbfounded at the wreck of a human standing in front of her counter-like boulder at the Wolfs Cave. Her honeyed eyes took in the other woman's blown pupils framed by a sliver of blue, and her skittery hands as they crawled over the skirt of her green dress. Her attention was briefly caught on the strange necklace tied around her skinny neck; a small rabbit skull on a leather cord that bounced on her chest with every nervous movement. But most of all she took in the woman's overriding fear. It was in the sour scent of her sweat and the way her weight was born on her toes, like she was seconds from tearing out of the room. To a wolf Kelvic like herself, it was the exciting scent of prey.
She made the effort to reign in these primal instincts, though. Murder would be bad for business.
"Are you ok? You seem a little nervous." Micha smiled in a way that might have been reassuring to anyone else. Madeira counted all twelve teeth in that smile and swallowed noisily.
I can smell you and you smell like death. Like my death. There is a ghost lurking in my body and a cursed Legacy fetish around my neck and I can hear the Zith on the other side of the fire pit sucking the marrow out of a bone. I can see every drop of moisture on your lip and it's telling me you're wondering what my marrow tastes like too. I am one tick away from losing it completely and I need my Maledictor and I need her now.
"I'm completely fine."
"She's renting a room down that tunnel.” Micha nodded. She showed fourteen teeth that time.
Madeira twitch a nod at her and made for the tunnel at the other end of the cavern. She was walking too fast to be casual, and her eyes darted around the room without making any sort of contact with the people in it. Her senses had never been so crystal clear. She could hear every shift of weight and smell the fetid breath of every predator in the room. And her extra effort to be small, quiet and inconspicuous to hide from these predators was in itself conspicuous. She could feel eyes burning into her back as she finally made it through the archway and down the appointed tunnel.
Just as she moved out of sight of the cavern, a great bellow of a laugh rang from behind her, like someone had just told a hilarious joke, and Madeira gave a squeal of fright from under her raised arms. The fetish around her neck seemed to press hard into her thundering heart like it too trying to seek shelter in her ribcage.
No, screw it, she couldn’t do this anymore. Madeira pulled the leather strap out from under her hair and made as if to whip the thing away. Far, far away preferably. But at the last second her muscles seized and her grip tightened as a foreign soul wound it’s way through her arm, and all she got was an awkward pinwheeling motion with the cursed skull still safely tucked in her palm. She made to snatch at the closed fist with her left hand, and her right hand shot out of reach. She tried to tighten her right fist, thinking she could try to damage it somehow, and her hand disobeyed. The thing remained gently cradled and in perfect condition.
The ghost was powerful enough to control one limb at a time, and to do it well. She could feel it coiling around her bones and levering her soul out of the way with single minded focus. It was drawn completely, inexplicably, to the skull. It would not let her get rid of it or hurt it in any way. It hadn’t the last time she tried, either.
But that was fine. She could still try to force the ghost out, and then get rid of the fetish.
She brushed at her damp forehead with her equally damp hand and sat down hard where she stood. The Spiritist gathered herself with a breath and prepared to turn inward and shut her body down. Sightless eyes rolled back in her head and her shoulders turned to stone under the thin linen dress. She imagined every nerve, every muscle, every line of sinew becoming stiff and immovable. Mental defences from a decade of practise closed down around her shivering soul and she was prepared to wait as long as it took for-
Somewhere deeper in the vast, cavernous Inn someone closed their door a touch too hard. A stirring of breeze, carrying the scent of dust and something animal, brushed over her skin and the Spiritist’s concentration broke with a jolt of panic and a burbling noise.
She couldn’t get rid of the ghost when she had the fetish. And she couldn’t get rid of the fetish when she had the ghost. The thought rose from some dark well inside her, and she dared not look down to see how deep it went.
Madeira scrambled to her feet and watched as the short, animal kind of panic brought the tunnel into excruciating focus. With disgust she replaced the cursed skull back around her neck. It took all her self control to walk and not run to the Dhani’s door. Especially when she heard the soft footsteps of two Symenestra walking a couple meters behind her and talking amicably with each other.
When she finally found it though, nothing could stop her from pressing her back to the rough wood as hard as she could as the two walked by. They gave her a polite nod as they passed, like they weren’t watching a grown woman trying to melt into a door by osmosis. Madeira pounded at the door behind her with the flat of her hand, suddenly unable to give up the tiny modicum of safely to be found with her back against the wall.
“Ssanya, Ssanya for the love of the gods, I have made a terrible mistake and I need your help!"