“Let me know when you need more,” I say as I straighten. “I’ll find you a dozen rapists to experiment on. They aren’t hard to come by, as you well know.”
She tilts her head from side to side, thinking. “Well, I should really examine how the rot behaves in different species, you know. Those more and less magically potent, to start with. An upir would be nice. Maybe a kobold? A chochol, too. Oh, and I know an utopek who’s led a useless, wasteful life and deserves to have a moment of significance.”
“Very well. If I get them all for you, would you consider moving this project to the proper torture chamber? We have one, though it might need some dusting. I haven’t used it in centuries.”
Jaga’s eyes sparkle as she grins. “Of course you have a torture chamber. Fine. You can show me while we wait for the results of your scheming.”
When I offer her my arm, she ignores it, but when I call her a nuisance again, she calls me a rotten maggot, and somehow, a small ember of hope lights in my heart.
It was worth it.
*
“There’s a vicious thunderstorm razing the forests in the west of Slawa,” Nyja says, throwing open the heavy door of the torture chamber with a metallic clang. “Oh. I see you’ve been busy.”
It took me a day to hunt down ten rapists of various species and the utopek from the bottomless pond Jaga told me about. Most of them sit in seatless chairs that I’ve explained to Jaga are normally used to flog genitals.
She found them excellent for measuring the amount of pus produced during the illness. Under each chair sits a large basin, collecting it, and all of it is a smelly, disgusting affair, yet Jaga is in her element.
If I hadn’t done my turn on her torture wheel already, I would have been a bitanxiousabout her eagerness to infect and maim dicks.
But as she eyes her subjects with a cold, dangerous spark in her eye, I think I understand her. She grew up in a world ruled by men, and she was powerless and afraid. Then she came to this world that’s magical and precious, so much better, yet women are still mistreated. Magic fixed nothing.
A man wants to own her, me. It’s no wonder she hates my gender. Yet, no matter how justified her hate is, I’d loathe for it to make me a target again, so I remind myself to replace her subjects as they perish. Better keep her occupied with others.
“They are rapists and deserve it, unlike Nienad’s victims,” my witch says coolly.
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t judging.” Nyja gives Jaga a sharp nod and turns back to me. “It worked, Weles. You did it. At fucking last, aftercenturies.I’m so happy to have you back.”
I scoff and roll my eyes. “I amnotback. That was hardly more than what I did with the rebels over the years.”
“You’re wrong.” Nyja goes over to the utopek, whose lips are sewn up, just like all of their lips, and leans in to look into his face. “Hey, I know this one. He’s an old lecher, isn’t he? From the bottomless pond? Isn’t he one of the first bieses Chors made?”
Jaga jolts, her shoulders stiffening. “Chors?”
“Yes, all water creatures are his.” Nyja nods, poking the utopek’s slimy, smooth head with the sharp tip of her fingernail.
“What was it? Let me see… Oh, I remember. He was a hunter living in the woods as a mortal. He stole young women from a nearby village and kept them in his hut, forcing them to serve him. He was mad and didn’t care for his prisoners properly, so they usually died after a few weeks, and he got new ones. The villagers thought some forest licho took their women. Then one escaped, and the men from her village came and drowned him in the well. Chors turned him into a bies.”
Jaga shakes her head, looking at the utopek with disgust. “What’s the point of giving him another life after all the atrocities he’s committed?”
“He would have been happy in Nawie,” Nyja says with a shake of her head. “He’s miserable now. You see, those who die from drowning are terrified of water. Chors made him into a creature that needs to stay submerged to survive. It’s endless torture.”
“Oh. Thank you for telling me.”
Jaga snaps her fingers. A large, translucent container of water appears around the utopek, like an enormous, clear crystal glass. When the chair and basin rise, pulled up to the surface, Jaga snaps her fingers again, and heavy chains appear, weighing the utopek down to the bottom. He glares at her with fury and terror, and she sends him a kiss.
“I’ll keep you alive for a long time,” she promises with quiet menace.
“Why do you believe I am wrong?” I turn to Nyja. I’ve tried to figure it out while they talked about the utopek, but I don’t know what she meant.
“What? Oh, yes. You said you did barely more than you’ve done with the rebels over the years, but that’s not true. You always took care not to piss him off too much, so he wouldn’t come after you himself. You played it safe. This time, you attacked Perun right where it hurts. It was the boldest challenge you’ve thrown in centuries, Weles. I am proud of you.”
I look away, unsure whether she’s right. The familiar fear squirms in my chest, and in its wake comes shame. I haven’t really done much, and it’s telling that she’s so proud of this. I must have been so pathetic. Still am.
Jaga looks up sharply, her eyes piercing mine, and I turn away with a low growl. I keep forgetting the bond works both ways, and she senses my emotions if they are powerful enough. Was it a mistake to bond with her? Was everything a mistake?
“So, he didn’t go to the forest himself, but he made a storm.” I change the topic to escape Nyja’s and Jaga’s scrutiny.
