Page 56 of North Is the Night
“Why has a young woman, alone and with so few provisions, traveled so far north?”
I raise the cup to my lips, breathing in the tea. It’s faintly floral, with a sharp sweetness. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I echo her.
The blade of her knife glints in the firelight with each cut she makes through the vegetables. “You conceal your name. Now you conceal your purpose.” She pauses, glancing at me across the fire. “You’re not interested in being friends, then.”
“The less you know, the safer I am.”
“Wise words,” she admits, returning to her chopping. “And has this philosophy served you well so far?”
I don’t answer.
Lumi pauses in her dicing, those glowing golden eyes searching my face. I stiffen, waiting for her to look away. “You’ve recently taken quite a beating,” she says. “The lump on your temple could be from a fall, but the faded bruise at your eye reeks of old magic. You smell like death, Esteri. And your throat... that was surely the work of a blade, dealt by a malicious hand. Someone wanted you dead.”
I hadn’t realized the collar of my jacket had opened enough to reveal the wound. It pains me awfully, and it’s only getting worse.
“It’s infected,” she says, tipping the chopped vegetables and chunks of reindeer meat into the stew pot. The pot hisses and bubbles. “If left untreated, it will kill you. I know some herbs that will cleanse it, but fire is best.”
I set down my cup of tea. “Are you asking my permission to hold a red-hot blade to my throat?”
She lets out a chiming laugh. “I guess thatishow it sounded. I’m offering to help you, Esteri.”
“Are you a wisewoman?”
She stirs the stew. “Of a sort.”
I sigh. “Look, witch, I’m not interested in playing this game. I need provisions to finish my journey, and I have goods to trade. Will you deal with me, or shall I move on?”
She just keeps smiling. “The tea will kick in soon. We’ll talk again in the morning.”
My eyes narrow. “I didn’t drink the tea, but I’m glad to know I was right.” I get to my feet. “I’m going now. Try to stop me, and I’ll kill you where you—” I sway, my vision dancing with white spots. “Wha—what is this?” I lift my hands, blinking through the spots as I feel my arms go heavy. “What’s happening?”
“You didn’t need to drink the tea for it to work.” The witch’s voice sounds suddenly very far away. “The fumes have already filled your lungs.”
My heart races as panic burns in my gut. “No—”
“Just breathe.”
I drop to my knees, my vision going dark. “No—Kal—”
“Rest now,” says the witch. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
I wake to my own screaming. My throat is on fire. There’s pain like nothing I’ve ever known. Surely, my head is being cleaved from my neck. I try to fight off my attacker, but I can’t move. Not an inch. Every part of me is secured—my head, my arms, my chest. I blink my tired eyes open to see I’m trapped in a sitting position, my legs stretched out before me. From forehead to waist, I’m strapped to one of the beams of Lumi’s hut.
“There, there,” Lumi soothes. A Sámi woman moves away behind her, setting a red-hot knife on the edge of the hearth. “We had to bind to you,” Lumi explains. “Otherwise, you could have hurt yourself. Fire really was the only way to cleanse that nasty wound. Sleep now.”
She brushes a cooling hand across my fevered brow, and I spot a glint of silver peeking at her wrist. My eyes narrow on the braided silver bracelet. Rage burns in my gut as pain burns at my throat. “You—” It’s all I can rasp out through the pain.
She lifts a brow in question, following my gaze to her wrist. Then she lets out a soft laugh, brushing her fingers over my grandmother’s silver bracelet. The movement shows the second bracelet wrapped around her other wrist. “Consider these payment for services rendered,” she says. “Sleep, child. You’ll feel better when you wake.”
The smell of my own burning flesh hangs in the air, stinging my nostrils. Oh gods, this is it. This is how I’ll die, tied inside the hut of this scheming witch. No Aina, no Väinämöinen. Once again, I’ve failed. I’m not worthy of this task.
My sweet, brave Aina.
A tear slips down my cheek as the darkness takes me. At least, in death, I’ll see her again.
19
Aina
