A Princess for the Witch Doctor (Legends of Rahasia Book 3)

Chapter Fourteen

"Here," I go to the prison yards where they're stashing the witch doctor until we find out a way to either work around my curse, or I find his name. He's pacing in his cage, sprawling at regular intervals like an oversized cat. Long legs, lean. Waxy dark hair with a slight sheen sprouting from behind the mask. He's better fed now, on prison porridge, better than when he was out murdering children in Raja. Better to be our prisoner, for all his gold.

Can't tell how his face's doing though, what with the mask and all.

"Here," I repeat, rolling up my sleeves and sticking my hand between the bars of the cage. I'd imagine he looks quite surprised behind that mask. Shocked, even. "You can bleed me, take some of my blood and make your precious gold. Is that what you want? Would you give me your name then, like some bloodsucking monster?"

The witch doctor tilts his head to the side. "Eh? Apa?"

I roll my eyes, taking my hand back. Flushing, it all feels very silly. Me bringing Baqir along, ready to smash an imbecile's head in. An overpowered, blood-magic-using foreign sorcerer who acts like a child. "Don't pretend you can't use some kind of mind magic and speak Rahasian." I sigh, blowing a piece of stray hair out of my face. "Saya tahu sedikit, bodoh. I know a little, idiot. You're not fooling anyone." I cross my arms, hefting Baqir's weight to test it. "I had the best tutors."

"Ah, lucu sekali." The man chuckles again. He sounds young, surprisingly so when he isn't trying to bleed people dry or work his cursed, shadowy hexes. "How cute, Putri. Princess."

"If you call me Putri, or princess in Jiwanese, what am I to call you?"

He doesn't answer, choosing instead to laugh some more. He gets up and starts pacing counterclockwise in his circular cage, just wide enough for him to lay flat or tall enough for him to stand. He's lanky, built more like farm boy. Must not have much use in traditional weaponry with all that magic. "Clever," he finally says, switching to an airy Rahasian, "clever, clever trying to get my name like that, Putri. You'll never know who I truly am."

I run up to the bars, slamming Baqir into them. To his credit, he doesn't even flinch, not even as the sound jars through the enclosure, leaving a low humming sound in the bits where the god of war's Divine netting pads the cell. "I'll get your name, scum. Even if I have to tear it out of you."

"You can't kill me. That was the challenge." His amber-beige hands clap in delight. He squeals like an overexcited toddler. "If you do, who knows what'll happen."

"Doesn't mean I can't cut little pieces out of you."

Behind the mask, a pause. I wonder if I finally said something to get this madman to shut up. Instead, the masked face looms closer. His feet, in simple sandals, seem almost to glide along the floor. "Do it, but remember, my power's in blood magic." He laughs, the sound raspy, hollow. "Even if it's my own blood, you'll only be helping me get stronger. And to torture me, you'd have to open the door to this cage." My grip on Baqir only tightens in my anger. He continues taunting, a few coiling, dark curls slipping from beneath his mask to fall onto his neck.

"I hope Rangda's worth it. Selling your soul." I spit back. Angry for losing Sol. Angry for having my fathers scold me. Angry for having my squad-mates disappointed in me.

Most importantly, just angry for no reason except I want to be. The worst kind.

"Rangda is precisely why I'm not telling you anything, princess." He turns around and stalks to the opposite end of the cage, sitting cross-legged with his hands on his sandaled feet. "Selamat tinggal, putri. Goodbye, princess."

I scream at him for a bit, but when he doesn't look the slightest bit fazed by my curses and threats, I finally leave.

I'll break him, or he'll break me. I huff. There is no other ending.

***

Readers,

Seems Rangda's more terrifying even than our princess, Arni.

So, what do you all think now of the witch doctor/ Dukun?

-Sophia