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

Chapter Twenty-Four

Pari rouses me from my slumber. I'd apparently found a scroll on flower healing properties to be a very comfortable pillow and was curled up on a wooden bench in the back section of the library because it was just so riveting, I couldn't keep my eyes open.

            "It's the witch doctor." Pari explains, not even flinching from my deathly glare for him waking me up. "He's missing a toe."

            I rub my eyes, trying to make sense of this with my sleep-addled wits about me. "How is that possible? We took away his knives."

            Pari wriggles his fingers, looking pleased that the Dukun is down to nine toes. "Magic."

            "Send a healer," I growl, not feeling too bad about the child murderer's suffering myself. But, it would be quite a problem if I found out that the prison guards are engaging in vigilante justice during the nightly hours. I can't imagine Saban acting against the crown's best interests, or Tawil skipping precious sleep time to be vindictive. And Pari, frankly, just doesn't have the stomach for torture. "Question everyone who was on guard duty that night."

            "That's just it, you see." Pari explains, scratching his head, all puzzled. "They were in some sort of trance, rambling about demonic nightmares with red eyes."

            "Let me guess," I snap, "does her name start with an R?"

***

            "Look," the Dukun looks very, very scared and equally drugged as a physician stitches up the gap where his big toe used to be. Two burly guards hold swords to his neck to ensure he doesn't try to fight back. "I'll do the thing."

            I squint at him, crossing my arms. "What thing?"

            "To help you find what my name is." He groans as the healer sticks the thin needle through his flesh. "Quickly."

            I try to keep sympathetic, I really do, but I can't help it. "Why the rush? You still have nine toes left, don't you?"

            He groans again, hatred in those dark eyes past his façade. I notice somebody's taken the time to shave the raggedy hair at the back of his neck. Sweat drips past his shorn, black hair. He's almost presentable now, in all his masked mystery.

            "I'm an evil murderer, I get it. But I want to this curse to end just as much as you do." His back arches in pain. The guards press down on his neck. I have to slap his masked cheek a couple times to keep his eyes from rolling back in his hand. "Even in death."

            "So, where do I start?" I'm crouching down beside him, seeing that he's actually gotten a bit healthier-looking being fed nasty prison gruel. He must've really starved on his own, being a rabid dog like he is.

            "Go..." He pants, sweat dripping down his neck. "To your gods' temples. Find the one who has no present."

            What kind of cryptic nonsense is that?

            "I have to give them a present? Are you talking about a sacrifice? Do I bring a nice wine-set, or what? Some cookies, maybe a cake?"

            But the Dukun's already passed out from the pain, and I don't have the heart to slap him awake again. Plus, his stitches are looking fairly swollen, and I don't want to stay for any more slicing than necessary.

            I think back on what Soleil said, the day before I left for Raja.

            "You want a destiny that's free from the gods. But that's just the thing, you see." She smiles, looking to the horizon, to the world past the Lioness Gate. "One way or another, the gods make their mischief."

            Gods.

            What assholes.

***

Readers,

Seems like the gods are back to meddling.

-Sophia