Free 4: Witches' Blood by Ginn Hale Page B

back as she stared up at the dark sky.
    Noticing John’s stare, one of men waiting his turn lowered his gaze. Others shifted so that that John wouldn’t see their faces.
    “It wouldn’t be half so bad if the girls were allowed to ply their trade indoors,” Hann’yu said. “In Nurjima, the laws have been changed and the diseases—”
    “This isn’t Nurjima,” Dayyid cut him off.
    Hann’yu sighed and didn’t make a reply. His amused energy seemed to be evaporating. His steps had grown steadily slower and clumsier as they continued walking.
    John looked to see how Ravishan was responding to all of this. His expression was distant, his eyes still fixed on Dayyid’s back. He didn’t even seem to be listening to the conversation.
    As they pressed through, a crowd gathered around a bull calf. John very briefly allowed his hand to brush against Ravishan’s. Ravishan’s expression didn’t change at all, but he grasped John’s hand in a tight, almost desperate grip. John held his hand for an instant and then broke away before anyone could notice the exchange.
    They continued working their way through the crowds until they reached the middle of the blood market.
    There, two small braziers stood about four yards in front of the aged building housing Parfir’s shrine. Other ushvun’im and ushiri’im had gathered outside the weathered wooden walls. John recognized Samsango and Fikiri among them. Samsango gave him a brief wave.
      Dayyid stopped just short before the open doorway of the building and turned, scowling at Hann’yu. “You’re sober enough to inspect her, I hope?”
    Hann’yu nodded.
    “Go on then.” Dayyid waved a hand at the shrine. “We don’t have much time, so try to be quick.”
    Again, Hann’yu only nodded. His lips were pressed closed in a hard line. His face looked pale even in the warm red firelight. John wondered if he was going to be sick. Hann’yu took a deep breath and then walked into the shrine.
    “My brothers.” Dayyid raised his voice, addressing the rest of the ushvun’im and ushiri’im. “It is time to begin our prayers.”
    Immediately, the gathered men knelt in rows along either side of the doorway. They filled the entire space between the shrine and the two lit braziers, only leaving a narrow path between the two. John wasn’t sure where he was supposed to sit. The ushiri’im seemed to have taken the spaces closest to the braziers. John guessed that he should be back farther with Samsango and the other ushvun’im. He began to go but Dayyid caught him by the arm.
    “Harvest wines affect Hann’yu more than they ought to,” Dayyid whispered. “When he’s done in the shrine, make sure he doesn’t come back out and embarrass himself in front of the ushvun’im. Wait for him by the door.”
    John strode quickly to the doorway and crouched down, leaning his back against the wooden frame. He had a terrible feeling about all of this.
    The small flames in the braziers snapped and flashed behind Dayyid.
    Dayyid remained standing, making sure that all of the men were properly spaced and solemn. Behind him, Ravishan also stood, waiting. When Dayyid turned and strode to the closest fires, Ravishan followed him.
    Dayyid raised his hand, signaling the prayer with a quick motion of his fingers. Instinctively, the words came to John, as they did to the priests surrounding him. The low, deep invocations rolled from them like a sudden flood. Their voices washed through the air, engulfing the cries of animals and drowning the noise of commerce.
    Behind him in the darkness of the shrine, John thought he could hear a faint sound, a whimper. He turned his head just slightly to look back into the dark chamber. Inside, five city guards stood circled around Hann’yu and the naked girl he knelt over. One of the guards absently toyed with the head of a sledgehammer. Another held a small lamp out over Hann’yu. Its light cast Hann’yu’s face in shadow but burned into girl’s