Chapter Text
Her headache was making the lightless cellar bloom with green dots, like a night lake in August. Behind the door, the servant girl kept talking.
"You're staying there till tomorrow. Nurim wants you alive, fuck knows for what."
Maybe he's bored of screwing you, Nenne would have said.
"Is he at the feast?" Qaria asked instead. The girl laughed.
"No, you got that right, crawlie. He doesn't give two shits about old Saldan. He's a man beloved by the feries," she added dreamily. She sounded fifteen, and infatuated, and like she missed the rest of the world, but only a little bit.
Most likely not charmed. Which is the worst part. Maybe that's why everyone chooses to write about fifteen-year-olds falling in love. They're just that intense.
From the dubious pedestal of her own twenty-five, Qaria sighed in frustration. "If he's beloved by the feries, why won't they cross the threshold of his house?"
"Not by all of them, because those bastards are hard to please," came the muffled reply. "But his own keeper loved him so much, it gifted Nurim all its powers. Who else in Yellowbog can say that?"
Nobody, because I'm pretty sure that makes Nurim a fucking witch.
Usually, people who tamed their keepers into familiars put them inside some object or gave them the shape of a creature. Some, however, dissolved their keeper into their own body, which would take either a desperately strong wish or extremely persuasive spells. That meant the two feries of the hidden forest camp had lost their friend for good.
"Your master ate his guardian spirit and doomed his soul so that he could hunt without a dog," Qaria said, as softly as she could. "Is that it?"
She wondered how long his ribbon had been empty, and how long Nurim had kept the servant girl. She wondered all that not to think about the sting on the wall, or she'd definitely throw up, from that and the headache and the leftover pain in her throat.
Somewhere above, a window shattered.
The servant girl cursed and ran off. "There you are!" she yelled, far away, and then screamed as if scalded.
"Open the door," a familiar voice ordered. "Don't try anything, I can see you from here!"
The floorboards overhead vibrated when the heavy bar on the door was yanked to the side. Two people crossed the mudroom.
Don't shout, Qaria. Don't distract her, even for a second.
"I know she's in the cellar. The ferie saw it. Let her out before I blow your pretty hand off."
"Yeah, like you did with your old man," the servant girl snapped, unlocking the cellar door. "Everyone's heard."
In the light from above, Qaria saw Nenne standing in the doorway with the servant's gun. The insecta climbed out, nearly slipping on the narrow stairs, and Nurim's girl took her place below. She was pressing a palm to her right eye.
"Thanks. Don't lower the gun." With shaking hands, Qaria locked the cellar door. Then she scuttled past Nenne's surprised face, to the trophy wall. She took off her mom's sting and wrapped it up in a lace napkin from the nearby table.
"Keeper's ass," Nenne whispered. "I know I brought up the trophies, but… he kept it for ten years? Fucking freak."
Qaria nodded, not quite ready to speak. She turned around and hid the precious bundle deep in her bag.
"Did you foresee that I'd be here?" she asked when she felt Nenne hug her.
"Do you have to ask that every time? No, it simply made sense. When I woke up, the other ferie told me of the joke you'd played on me," she squeezed Qaria tight in fond exasperation, "and the trick they'd play on you in return, with Razema. And you... you can be a stubborn dumbass, too. You'd make the most out of the night, without having me to worry about."
"Sorry." Qaria hugged Nenne back, letting the tension slowly trickle out of her body. "And how'd you get the girl?"
"Birya? Well, she looked out too far, and the ferie flew right into her eye, so she dropped the gun," Nenne laughed.
Qaria untangled herself from the taller girl. "Fuck, we should tell it that its friend is gone."
"It is? Shit. Well, you tell it, it's outside the kitchen window," Nenne agreed. "I'll look for his money."
Nurim's kitchen was big and clean. It had a lived-in smell, like the inside of a soup pot. Scuttling through it, Qaria realized how long she'd gone without being in a proper house – not just creeping around it or sleeping in a tent. She stopped to stuff some moose meat, flour, and buckwheat into her bag. Then she remembered about the ferie.
"Your friend is gone," she said to the blackcurrant bushes outside the window. "Nurim consumed his keeper. I'm very sorry."
The tiny white light shot up from the bushes, made a glassy, screeching sound, grew into a sharp-edged shaky blob, and vanished.
Probably turned immaterial again and went back to the forest to grieve with its mate. Wish I could at least get them Nurim's ribbon to bury. Like a loved one's old clothes.
Qaria leaned out of the window, breathing in the bird-cherry scent of May, and wondered where Nurim was. Instead of his bulky figure, she noticed some commotion at the end of the street.
The torches were approaching.
***
By now, the sight sent her into instant panic. She locked her claws together and tried to think through it.
He's not at the feast. He never liked Saldan. Have they brought fifty drunk heads together and decided he's been helping Nenne?
Whatever their reasoning, she and Nenne could not stay here.
"They're coming for Nurim!" Qaria shouted, running into the trophy room. Nenne stuffed one last handful of gold into her bag and replied, "Take his gun. I'll lead us out the other way."
As they went through the back door, someone was already banging on the front one.
"Albira! Open up, girl!"
"We know he's sheltering her!"
Where's all that outrage when he 'shelters' a girl less than half his age, Qaria thought and winced in disgust as Nenne's dry hands helped her over the fence. The girls ran without looking back through the streets that lay between them and the edge of Yellowbog.
"There!" Ilay shouted behind them.
"Don't shoot!" Nenne pleaded in a breathless whisper as Qaria lifted the gun. Instead, they kept running.
The last few houses, black-windowed and decrepit, flew by. And then the ground ahead ran out.
Qaria had completely forgotten there was a river.
"Shit. Is this the Kidash?"
"No, the Uza."
Qaria cursed again. The Kidash flowed through a big part of Henle, broad but calm. The Uza, however, ran faster and colder, even though it was only a hundred or so meters across.
Its bank was a sheer fifteen-meter drop. Qaria scrambled back like a terrified deer.
"Nenne, I can't."
"I'll help you across," Nenne promised. Then she eyed the heavy gun in Qaria's hands, took it by the barrel, drew her arms back, and flung the gun as far as she could. It landed upstream with a fat splash. The urgent voices behind them followed the sound.
Nenne smiled encouragingly. "Hold your breath and don't scream."
Then she pushed Qaria off the cliff and jumped down after her.
***
The shock of cold water almost washed away the pain in Qaria's throat and nape. She instantly struggled to breathe, whether from the cold or from the horror. Her shirt, vest, and bag turned to fishing nets and heavy stones around her. She lost her tubetey in the first few seconds.
Near her, Nenne came up and sputtered water. "I'm here!" Her hands closed around Qaria's waist and steadied the insecta.
Qaria still thrashed around, mad with fear. "I can't, I can't!"
"Move your arms and legs," Nenne panted. "All together. I'll push you. And – move! And – move!"
Qaria found her rhythm and felt Nenne's legs kicking in unison with hers, somewhere behind. They were floating downstream, but the other bank was, impossibly, getting closer.
Splashes of water obscured her vision, made every breath a gamble. She coughed. The cold was seeping into her bones. Even her scorpion part, protected by a hard shell, was feeling it.
It was maybe twenty meters to shore when Nenne's kicking became frantic, and then one-sided.
"Fuck, my leg..."
Qaria's stomach lurched. "Don't let go!"
"You sure?"
"Yes! I'm lighter!"
"Okay!" Nenne huffed in pain and held tight.
Even with her decreased insecta weight, Qaria wasn't buoyant, but remembering her lightness eased the fear. She found her rhythm again, arms and legs and lungs. It finally occurred to her to hold her pincers close, so that the water flowed more freely around her.
Ten more meters. The other bank of Uza was lower; grass and pines grew tall here. By day, it must have been a nice spot for dates.
Nenne's hands slipped. She let go.
"No!"
Qaria turned around, losing her momentum, and caught the seer by the hand. They were both out of breath now, but still afloat.
Qaria's left side bumped against something. A pine trunk, floating in the water.
With her free hand, she tried to push it behind her, towards the shore. Ten meters away, it caught on a mound of dirt.
Qaria pulled Nenne closer till the human girl could grab onto the trunk too. "Come on! From branch to branch!"
The trunk was almost bare, with little bark and few branches left. Nenne mounted it and was trying to inch forward without slipping off the wet wood.
Through the water, Qaria moved along the trunk faster with broad movements of her arms and pincers. A few more meters, and her short legs touched the bottom. She’d remember this relief her whole life.
The insecta climbed out of the water and dragged the end of the trunk further onto the grassy shore. Nenne held out her hand, and Qaria helped her over to solid ground. They collapsed next to each other, panting and staring unseeingly into the depths above.
"We made it," Qaria breathed out, wide-eyed. "You didn't... lie about... being a good swimmer."
"Doesn't really... matter... if your leg... goes numb," Nenne grimaced through hair plastered to her face. She sat up and started rubbing and slapping her foot.
In the open air, Qaria shivered. Tonight, May felt milky warm for once, but the river breeze was bothering her.
"We should go back to the camp. Rest inside the barrier, then try and get Nurim elsewhere."
Nenne suddenly sat up straight. "No, we shouldn't." She cupped her face in her dirty palms, waited a few seconds, then sighed and dropped her hands. "No use. My body's hoping for a rest too hard. But it doesn't feel like a good idea." She sneezed. "See, must be true."
"Nenne, we have no choice," Qaria insisted. "We're wet through. We need our blankets. We need our tent. Don't you remember what it's like to cough your lungs out?"
"I do," Nenne snapped before Qaria could finish, and got up.
***
By the time they walked to the camp, they were falling asleep on their feet. The clothes on them had half-dried, but that had left the girls drained of warmth and strength.
After forever they saw the familiar clearing ahead, and perked up. But a few more steps, and Nenne stood still again. It really showed when a bolt of premonition shot through her.
She turned back and placed a hand on Qaria's chest. "Stay back," the seer mouthed.
"Took you a while."
They both started.
"Come closer, girl," the same low, full voice called from the clearing. The dark silhouette by the tent rose to its full height. The man put out the pipe and lazily picked up the gun.
"Come, come. I may be my own dog, but I won't bite," Nurim chuckled. "Now, where's the grub?"