The Witch who Trades with Death by C.M. Alongi

Author:C.M. Alongi [Alongi, C.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781915998545
Publisher: Watkins Media
Published: 2025-03-15T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Two

That night, the unit celebrated their victory at the inn. Heimili cooked them a special roast chicken, a rare import in this part of the world, and refused to charge them for it, brimming with pride as he ruffled Haz’s hair every chance he got, tangling it worse than usual. “My son the soldier. I knew you had it in you!”

Xopil’s wife Tlastisti was probably more excited than any of them. “I don’t have to cook for this big lug, and I get expensive food for free? I should sign up for the militia myself!”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Xopil grumbled, feeding his squirming toddler.

Neta was a latecomer. But she made up for the tardiness with a bottle of wine from a country Khana had never heard of that made Haz choke. “How did you get your hands on this? It’s worth more than every house on this street!”

“My mother’s made good friends among the traders.”

Everyone helped themselves to a horn of the wine, except for Itehua, who stayed with tea. “To the Poison Dart Frogs!” Neta toasted.

“Poison Darts!” They clanked their cups together.

They stayed up late, taking tiny sips from the wine bottle and talking even after Heimili and Amati closed and went to bed. Haz and Khana promised to clean up any lingering mess. Tlastisti went home with her son and refused her husband’s offer to go with them. “You stay and celebrate. The army’s giving you the next few days off, so don’t think I won’t work you like a dog.”

With that cheering sentiment, she left the unit to its own devices. Itehua passed the wine without drinking from it. “Incredible woman you’ve got there.”

“The best,” Xopil said, his wide face beaming like the sun.

“Was she part of this rebel thing, too?”

He nodded, sobering. “We were just a small village, one of many in the Kostikli Belt – that’s the river basin around the Kostikli River,” he explained. “The emperor renamed it to Namari after conquering it. Anyway, all of us were hit with a drought, our crops withering in the fields, livestock dying. The empire had never been kind to us – our grandfathers had fought back hard against the invasion, and they made sure to punish us for it – but during the drought they refused to give us any food, and worse, taxed us so bad that we had to give them what little rice we stored away for emergencies. All the town elders across the Belt got together and decided to revolt. I agreed to join, but I got worried on my way home to tell Tlastisti. We had just gotten married, and she had never liked violence, preferring to talk things over. I had prepared a speech and practiced it all the way home, but when I got there, I found her sitting on the mat carving spears out of cypress.

“‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

“‘We’re revolting, aren’t we?’ she said. ‘All the women in town agree: if we can’t talk you into fighting, we’ll do it ourselves.

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