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

Chapter Thirty-Three

"I heard you're finally leaving me alone, Putri."

            I fiddle with the dagger, turning it constantly at my belt. I might resent its original owner, but it's damned good craftsmanship. And I can't hide myself from the gods forever. They helped make me, after all, for better or worse. "Who told you?"

            "Rioters are surprisingly chatty." He steps forwards, and there's blood trickling from beneath his mask, a mask that's cracking from how many times it was smashed in by outside forces. My eyes fall towards his hands, dried blood crusts over the fingernails. "They stopped chattering when they didn't like my reply."

            "It's your people dying here. Your people preparing for war because of you. Your people who want you executed." I run my thumb along the blade, drawing blood. The Dukun makes a sniffing sound, like a dog, enraptured by the scent. "Why can't you just tell us your name?"

            "The time goddess told you something, didn't she?" He leans against the bars, so close to me slicing off his fingers. The boots that are worn a little looser since losing his toe, sticking out from the cage. It's almost like the words pain him to say, suffocating him. "A clue?"

            "That your name is that of Rangda's greatest enemy." I stop twirling, rubbing my injured thumb against my tunic hem. "Trouble is, she has too many to count."

            "In the old ways, the gods were simple. Easier. Just good and evil. Black and white. Sea and sky." He turns away, and I see his shoulders hunching. He's grown since being here. Adequately nourished, almost normal if you can ignore the mask and the blood. "I'm not delusional. I know I deserve execution. Worse, for what I did. I was greedy. Jealous and willing to do anything to be remembered. Always second son. Always watching as my brother grew up richer and more loved and better than me."

            "What happened to your brother?" I'm interested now, wondering if they, at least, would know this asshole's name. "Come on. You want this execution just as much as we do. End your curse, your torment."

            "Isn't it a pattern by now, Putri?"He laughs, cracking his knuckles, the sound like fire splitting ice. "I killed anyone who knew me before I was me. I killed anyone who knew me as the weak, poor, and slovenly second son. Ultimately, I killed myself by doing so. And now, I'm just a walking corpse, serving Rangda until she has nothing left to cut off from my body." He shows me his other hand, taking off the glove. His pointer finger and thumb are gone, burnt to the knuckle to get rid of disease.

            "Why do you want the curse to end?" I wonder if he's really this evil, this corrupted. To have killed so many, and still feel nothing. I wonder if such evil can truly exist. I'd heard of it, of course. Serial killers. Torturers. Rapists. But I couldn't fathom such an emptiness. A void of humanity, of decency. I wonder if there really is nothing but evil inside him.

            "You wonder if I'm worth saving." He laughs, the sound echoing inside my head. The sound empty as the rest of him. "I am tired of the labor. Just as lazy as I was in life. The people I killed stopped having faces when I wore the mask." He turns around, eyes piercing past the veil, piercing my skin. "Even you stopped having a face. Eventually."

            I step back, a chill running down my spine. A cold sweat. The dagger warms to my touch, even as I know I cannot use it. Can't kill him until we know his name.

            "Oh yes, I used to be a farmer in a past life, Putri." Laughter, horrid laughter as I flee the place. Run back to where Zahra waits, Tawil and Pari carrying my bags to the caravan. The caravan travelling to the tip of the Empire, the edge of the sea. "It's like harvesting, once the faces are gone. Just like me, behind a mask."

            "Are you okay?" Zahra sees me breathing hard. Even Pari and Tawil go respectfully silent when they see my disheveled clothing. The hair slipping from its ties, plastered to my sweat. I must smell like the camels and pack animals themselves.

            "We have to kill that thing back there." I help the patrolmen carry my cases to the loading carts. "Before it ruins us all."

***

Readers,

            Hey, look. Chaotic evil! In all seriousness, I've always written evil characters with another side of some good intent in them. Because we all relate to having good intentions, even if we carry it out in bad ways.

            Not to be a downer! I do love you all, and you make me a better writer.

            Best

            Sophia