Because you’ve developed a snake’s sixth sense, Ukar informs me.
And what is that?
Pessimism.
I let out a laugh as I trail Hokzuh into Yappang.
Within minutes we arrive. It’s gone quiet. No one’s on the shore, and the crocodiles are eerily silent. There’s mist rising from the water, turning the air musty and thick. Just as I open my mouth to tell Hokzuh we should turn back, a thick net is cast over my head.
I dive onto the sand. The net falls short of my heels, but other nets come flying. Hokzuh spreads his injured wings. None are large enough to ensnare him.
Ukar crawls onto my shoulder and hides behind my neck. He glares at Hokzuh. Well done, dragon. Still think this is a friendly village?
The residents of Yappang creep out of the mist, coming out from behind their boats and wagons. I don’t want anyone to get hurt. I lower my spear and open my hands. “We’re not here to—”
“I’m a friend of Nakri’s!” yells Hokzuh, interrupting me. He switches to a dialect I don’t know, but the villagers cut him off with shouts, and jab their fishing spears at his broken wings.
Hokzuh retreats to my side. He flashes an uneasy grin. “Seems they do remember me. I think I was extra charming here.”
I don’t get to make a retort. More strikes are directed at Hokzuh, and at me too.
“Demons!” they shout. We could easily overpower them, but my companion’s not attacking. If he won’t, neither will I. I back up, same as him, until we’re dangerously close to the edge of the village pier.
One more step and we’ll be a crocodile’s lunch, Ukar says, both a warning and a lament. Maybe they won’t find you tasty, but I’m a very fleshy snake. My meat is sweet.
I try not to roll my eyes at my best friend, but I do glare at Hokzuh. “I thought you were friends with the witch.”
“She’ll come,” Hokzuh insists, but he doesn’t sound as confident as he did earlier.
At this rate, we’ll be dead before she arrives.
Crocodiles snap their teeth under my feet. Their jaws are as long as my entire leg, and in defense, I thrust the end of my spear below the deck—
“You jab that spear one more time, and that pretty arm of yours will go flying into their gullets,” warns a thin voice.
An old woman trundles down the narrow boardwalk connecting the bungalows, rapping a cane across the crooked boards as she walks.
“The Nine-Eyed Witch,” I murmur as the villagers make way for her to cross.
Indeed, look, Ukar says, bringing my attention back to the crocodiles. They’re lifting their heads in respect.
I’ve heard stories that she can speak to crocodiles the way I can speak to snakes. That she’s a suiyak herself but, unlike Angma and her followers, has kept her bloodlust under control.
Up close, she is far shorter than I’d imagined, and so old that the lines in her face have deep shadows. A string of seven amber beads hangs around her neck, each with a teardrop-shaped black pupil. In her hand is a cane spiked with razor-sharp crocodile teeth. Just like in the stories.
“Nakri,” cries one of the townswomen, “they came out of the mist. Demons, both of them—”
The witch silences her with a raised hand, long fingers fluttering. “This one is a pest.” She points at Hokzuh. “But sometimes a useful pest. They are my guests until I say otherwise.”
The weapons come down, and Nakri waves the villagers away with a flick of her fingers.
Once they are gone, she turns to me. “One of our hunters saw a tiger this morning. I had a hunch that it meant Angma’s daughter would come to pay a visit.”
I balk. “I’m not Angma’s daughter.”
“Can you prove otherwise?” She raises her cane at the white in my hair. “You bear her mark. Not to mention this one is at your side.” Her gaze sweeps over to Hokzuh, and she pokes her cane at the spikes on his wings, the markings on his arms. “Still cursed, I see. I told you that you would be, the next time you came back.”
Hokzuh’s red eye flares, and he jerks his arm away. “We need help. I can pay this time.”