Page 49 of Devil's Deal

“I cleaned out Waclaw’s barn yesterday,” I say, going right to the heart of the matter. “And this morning, I put in protections, but I keep wondering if they are enough, so I wanted to ask you for advice.”

Jarota straightens slightly, some of his usual pride creeping in. “Advice? Of course, good girl. I’ll help you if I can.”

I take out a linen napkin containing the bloody bit of fur I found in the barn. I unroll it slowly while Jarota comes closer, curiosity pulling him in. When I reveal what’s inside, he frowns, stroking his beard.

“It looks like wolf fur, but I am no huntsman,” he says. “You’d have to ask Swietko or Tolimir.”

“I thought it must be a wolf, too,” I say, speaking carefully. One wrong word here and he won’t do what I want. “But then I realized the fur wasn’t low to the ground, as you surely must have thought. It was stuck to a nail that’s about this height.” I point at my shoulder, and Jarota gives me a blank look.

I do my best not to grit my teeth. The problem is, if I tell him what I think the bies is, he’ll disregard it. Jarota is proud and deems himself wiser than everyone else. I need him to come up with the answer on his own.

“So, if it was a wolf, it must have been very tall,” I say. “So I wanted to ask if you knew of any creature that looks like a wolf but is taller? Maybe as tall as a man?”

I look at him hopefully, certain he’ll get it this time. After all, it’s painfully obvious. The moment stretches, and I finally realize the zerca has no idea what I’m saying. I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth to keep my expression neutral.

I was never good at being patient with people. Another fault Wiosna often complained about.

Now, she doesn’t complain, though. Her voice is calm and thoughtful when she speaks in my ear, the strange echo making her sound eerie.

“He doesn’t think like we do. I told you about every bies that walks this world so you’d be prepared. He never focused on that. His tales are the stories of gods in Wyraj.”

I frown. Fine, and yet, the zerca must know at least some of the folk lore. I can’t give up yet.

Jarota rubs his forehead and then pulls on his hair in thought. I force myself to keep still and give him time, but honestly, I want to grab him by the ear and scream the truth into it. After all, it’s so obvious.

“I’m not sure there is such a bies,” he says slowly, shaking his head. “I’ll ask the gods later, when I sacrifice a few hens…”

“Later? Will it be this evening? If so, you’ll have a good light. It’s another full moon tonight. Like yesterday.”

It takes all I have not to gnash my teeth as I spell it out for him.

“Praise the god Chors,” Jarota mumbles, clearly missing my point.

I smile through clenched teeth, wondering how much more obvious I can be.

“So, I was thinking about using sage and iron as the most common repellents for all that’s evil. But Wiosna sometimes used silver, only, I don’t have much left. Would it be a waste, do you think, to use it? Is the bies likely to fear silver?”

Jarota blinks owlishly, and my shoulders drop in defeat. I try to think of any other clue I can give him, but there is nothing short of saying it outright that I can think of. So we stand there, in his sunny little garden, and I will his dusty mind to move faster. Please, please, please, it’s so easy! Starts with a w, ends with wolf…

Jarota’s eyes grow big and he tears the napkin out of my hands, looking at it fearfully. He grabs my arm and pulls me closer until I’m forced to breathe in his garlicky breath.

“I know what it is! The gods have spoken!”

“Praise be,” I say, trying to muster some enthusiasm. But I don’t have to try very hard. Jarota is already pacing as he thinks, excited and self-important. He doesn’t even look at me.

“Of course, now that they’ve spoken, it is so obvious… But we must make sure… We can’t tell yet!”

He stops in front of me, his features tightening into a strict frown. He shakes his finger at me. “I shall tell you what it is, young Jaga, but you mustn’t gossip about it before I augur tonight. The gods must confirm it. I must be the one to tell the people.”

I nod eagerly, because this is precisely what I want. If I went around saying a werewolf bies killed the lambs, people would think I was mad. If the zerca says it while chicken blood drips from his fingers, his gray hair billowing spectacularly in the wind, everyone will believe him.

Who knows? I might even save his reputation this way.

“I swear,” I say, pressing my hand to my chest. “What is it, then? I promise not to tell anyone.”

Jarota’s eyes bulge, his hands shaking from excitement. “It’s a werewolf!”

I gasp, maybe a bit too loudly, and shake my head, doing my best to look scared. “No! My word. I never would have guessed it!”

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