A Nameless Witch Part 5

Newt sighed. "I told you. That last one was an accident."

Before venturing any closer, I extracted a promise from my familiar that there would be no further accidents. While I was not as confident about it as I would have liked, I took him at his word. In any case, he wasn't going to get better without practice, and I could think of no better place for him to get some. It also was a good way to test the strength of my own newly discovered hunger.

Just before we reached the fort, two men came out to greet us. One was fat and sweaty. He looked a poor meal. I'd never eaten anyone, but an instinct told me he'd be all chewing and very little worthwhile meat. The second was thin and even sweatier. He was more of a midday snack. Neither tempted me much. Though they were s.h.i.+rtless and out of uniform, their rigid posture and exact way of walking put me in the mind of military men.

Neither seemed surprised or intimidated by Gwurm. Perhaps trolls were common in the region. Or perhaps these men just didn't care.

The fat man held up a hand. "Halt! What's your business here?"

Newt ruffled. I stamped my broom to remind him of his promise.

"I have no business. I only wish to have a look around."

"You're not a prost.i.tute, are you?"

I shook my head slowly.

"Are you sure?" The thin one wiped his face. "Because we've already got too many prost.i.tutes as it is. Two for every man here."

"Yes," the fat man said. "And the captain has said we aren't to allow any more. Strains the local economy, such as it is."

"Leaves us broke too."

"So don't bother lying about it, because this market is saturated, and I sincerely doubt you'd be able to earn a living."

"Ralf might pay her for a roll," the thin man observed.

"Yes, certainly, Ralf might. And Wilts. He's got strange tastes too."

"And Biggs."

"Zur."

"Oh, Zur would hand over a month's pay just to have her kick him in the crotch. But he's not all there."

"And if she uses the duck, I can think of a dozen men who would chip in to see that."

The fat man sneered. "Twisted fiends."

"Twisted," the thin man agreed.

"So, do you use the duck?"

They leaned forward, eyeing Newt with slight smiles.

Newt flapped his wings and leaped to attack. Gwurm caught him midpounce and saved the soldiers' lives. The troll walked away. Newt squirmed in his grasp.

"I'm not a prost.i.tute," I restated.

The men straightened. "Are you quite certain?"

I nodded.

Their grins vanished, and they cleared their throats. "Good. Because this is certainly no place for such depravity."

"No place," the thin one agreed.

"You're not another desperate woman looking for a husband, are you? Because I can a.s.sure you, all the men who haven't brought their families with them aren't aching for any more womanly attention. Even if it is free."

I needed to refine my act. Perhaps a bigger, more pointed hat. Or an exaggerated, withered limb. Something was missing because no one had yet to guess my trade without me telling them.

"I'm a witch."

"A witch, eh? Captain didn't say anything about witches, did he?"

"Not that I recall."

"Anything about trolls?"

"Nothing. I would have remembered. Just prost.i.tutes."

"I guess it's all right then. So what do you do, witch?"

I leaned heavily on my broom and raised my head that one eye might glare up at them. "I commune with forbidden spirits. I speak to beasts and plants. I cast bones. I heal. I curse." I cracked a wide smile. "And I raise the dead."

"So you don't do anything with the troll then either?"

"No. Nothing with the troll."

"Pity Zur will be disappointed." They wandered back to the fort.

Gwurm returned to my side. He let go of Newt. The duck paced about in an angry circle, muttering.

"I was only going to maim them. Tear off a limb or two."

"No maiming either, Newt."

"As you command, mistress, but they were asking for it."

Gwurm chuckled. "It's easy not to kill people who don't deserve it. It's keeping from killing the people who irritate you that is the task."

I suggested that Newt had gotten enough practice not killing today He and Gwurm waited at the field's edge while I dared venture amid the bustling tents and rickety wooden constructions. The soldiers' barracks were a collection of uniform canvas tents to the east. The families camped to the north. The prost.i.tutes sat at the south. And the merchants and tradesmen had set up a makes.h.i.+ft marketplace to the west. It seemed a fine seed of a village, perhaps even a respectable city one day, but right now, it was just many people gathered beneath the shadow of a half-built fort.

The stench impressed me the most. Most animals have enough sense to keep a tidy home. Men were apparently an exception. Few creatures could create such filth in such short time. Disposing of it properly would have been a trade in itself. Judging by the countless mounds of dung, rotting vegetables, and decaying meat, there weren't any such tradesmen in residence. The people didn't seem to mind, but they reeked of sweat and toil themselves, so why would they? As for myself, I found some comfort in the stench through my curse.

Walking between the tents, I sized up everyone I saw as a potential meal. I discovered I was a very particular eater. Most everyone was either too fat or too lean or too oily or too tough. There were precious few of any appeal, although there were a dozen or so that I'd have considered nibbling on under the right circ.u.mstances.

I found the most interest in the south end of town. The prost.i.tutes came in countless varieties. Some were short and plump. Others were tall and lean. Short and lean. Tall and plump. Ugly. Pretty. Old. Young. Dark. Light. Underneath all my clothes, I was more beautiful than any. I could have made a fine living as a woman of easy virtue. Of course, as I'd never actually lain with a man, I had to wonder what might happen should I lose myself in even a brief carnal moment. As the mere thought made my mouth water, I suspected I wouldn't have much return business. My musings were interrupted by a coa.r.s.e grunt.

"You there! You're new, aren't you?"

A short man emerged from one of the tents. He pulled up his pants with a scowl. He was mildly attractive with a face too chubby for his thin body and slightly crooked teeth.

My dark desires whispered, "Not bad. Suck out the eyes and save the tongue for later."

"I told the men we don't need any more prost.i.tutes," the man grunted.

I was about to correct him on his mistake when another voice came from the same tent.

"She's not one of us. She's a witch." A woman wrapped in a blanket stepped out. She had long blond hair and a body that couldn't be hidden away so easily. She was slender without being bony every bit as beautiful as I except for a tiredness in her round face.

My inner ghoul murmured, "Very good. A morsel to be savored."

"I'm right, aren't I?" the prost.i.tute asked.

I nodded.

"Witch? So what do you do, witch?" the soldier asked.

"I commune with forbidden spirits. I speak to the beasts and plants. I cast bones. I heal. I curse. And I raise the dead."

"Can you get rid of warts?"

"Yes. I also know of ways to treat all the minor ailments your men might catch in their off-duty hours."

He nodded. "Very good. You can stay then." He marched back into the tent, unbuckling his pants. The woman started to follow him.

"How did you know I was a witch?"

"The hat. The broom." She shrugged. "Seems obvious."

The soldier grunted from the darkened tent. "Sunrise!"

"You'll have to excuse me."

She disappeared into the tent. I was left alone, among the throng, amid the grunts and moans and laughter of prost.i.tutes at work.

I'd only come for a look around. I hadn't planned on staying, but here was a place in need of a witch and after living so long by myself, it was time for a change. I decided to linger for a few days at least. Perhaps more. Providing I could keep Newt from killing anyone and my own accursed cravings in check.

"No one will miss one succulent little child," the dark voice whispered.

I pretended not to hear it.

CHAPTER 6

I told Swurm and told Swurm and Newt we were staying. Gwurm was in different to the decision, as I expected. Newt was filled with objections, as I knew he would be, and immediately voiced those objections. It was my own fault. I'd asked him for his opinion once. The precedent was set, and I couldn't undo it now. While his protests mattered little to me (not at all, in truth), I allowed him his moment. Newt we were staying. Gwurm was in different to the decision, as I expected. Newt was filled with objections, as I knew he would be, and immediately voiced those objections. It was my own fault. I'd asked him for his opinion once. The precedent was set, and I couldn't undo it now. While his protests mattered little to me (not at all, in truth), I allowed him his moment.

He hopped about and flapped his wings. We were a good distance from the camp, but still within easy view. If anyone should notice me arguing with the duck, I wouldn't have minded. It could only enhance my peculiarity and credibility as a good witch.

"But we're on the road to vengeance!" he cried. "Have you forgotten your dead mistress?"

"I haven't forgotten anything, but vengeance can wait. Or perhaps my vengeance is already here, waiting for me?"

He danced around in an angry circle. "No, it isn't!"

I smiled despite my best efforts. "I was unaware you had a sense of these things."

"Well, I do! And I can tell you that there's nothing here but people and tents and garbage. By everything festering in the bowels of Hades, it's not even a real village!" He turned to Gwurm for help. "Tell her I'm right."

"About what?"

"About this! What we're talking about."

"Sorry Wasn't paying attention."

Newt uttered an exasperated quack. He paused long enough to collect his thoughts.

"I'm sure that wherever your vengeance waits is farther away."

I nodded slowly as if I understood his reasoning, and he continued, sounding almost calm.

"It just makes sense. No worthwhile vengeance is just a day-and-a-half 's walk away."

"I see," I said. "And how far away is one's vengeance generally? In your experience."

His head bobbed while he considered the question. "It isn't an exact science, but I figure it has to be farther than a journey of self-discovery, but shorter than an epic quest. Hundreds, even thousands, of miles."

"That seems very far," Gwurm chimed in.

Newt threw him a nasty glare. "It can be considerably less if the journey is especially perilous. A terrible monster here or a raging river of death there can trim off a few hundred."

"What do you guess a dragon to be worth?" Gwurm asked.

"Oh, I don't know" Newt sighed. "At least two or three hundred."

"And a sphinx?"

"Who knows? A lot, I guess, as that's mostly what sphinxes are for."

"What about a gnome?"