Page 51 of Devil's Deal

“I am happy to hear that,” I say through clenched teeth, and I think Roza sees how much it costs me to stay polite. She nods sharply, as if to say this part of the conversation is over.

Gods be praised. I don’t think I can be pleasant for much longer.

“After what happened at Waclaw’s last night, we were wondering if you have any protections from the bies for sale,” she says, looking pointedly at the neat row of completed pouches on my table. “We’ll pay well.”

“I don’t take food that spoils easily at this time,” I say quickly, because I still have the things Ida and Ola brought me, and then sausages from Helena. All my food is cooling in a bucket at the bottom of the well, but in this weather, it won’t keep long.

Roza nods. “We have preserves, honey, and furs. Like I said, we’ll pay well.”

Well, look at that. At least Czeslawa taught them to be generous. I should thank her one day. She does well for herself and lacks for nothing, while Wiosna barely got by sometimes. So, in this matter, I’d rather learn from Czeslawa.

I value my work enough to demand a good price from those who can pay.

“Thank you,” I say, gathering four pouches to hand to Roza. “Bury each in one corner of your land. It doesn’t have to be deep, but the pouch must be covered with earth. Bid everyone in your family not to leave your home when the moon is in the sky.”

She puts her heavy basket on the table, and I set about emptying it quickly before I deal with her friends. Each gets four pouches, and with that, my supply is severely depleted. I’ll have to make more quickly.

“Why the moon?” one of my clients asks.

“The zerca believes this bies must have something to do with Chors,” I say. When they scoff, clearly unimpressed by Jarota’s judgment, I look up sharply. “But you don’t have to believe him, of course. Be warned, though. Whoever goes out after the moon rises may end up just like Waclaw’s lambs.”

“So that’s why he’s going to augur early today,” Roza says with a slow nod. “He usually does it after sunset, but a boy went by earlier today, saying the zerca would augur before dusk. Does he know what the bies is? Do you?”

I sigh, emptying the last basket before I hand it to its owner. “I know enough to make effective protections. However, I cannot make them fast enough, so I have a request: if a neighbor asks to stay in your home tonight because their place isn’t protected, take them in. If I hear you refused somebody when you could take them in, I’ll never serve you again.”

Roza frowns, clearly displeased that I’m ordering her around. But then, her brow clears and she nods. “Of course. It wouldn’t be neighborly to refuse others shelter from evil. Very well, we’ll go to see the zerca later, and Ida will come by to get these for her home.”

After they go, I force myself to stop working enough to have some cheese and bread with more nettle brew. I won’t be of use to anyone if I faint from the heat and lack of food. After that, I work doggedly through the day, only taking a short break when Ida comes in for protection for her in-laws’ home.

She lives with her husband now, and her husband lives with his parents in a house large enough to fit them all. It’s a curse, she says.

“I’d rather the house were smaller, you know?” she says before taking her leave. “Then, he’d be forced to get us a new cottage. We’d be on our own and much happier for it.”

This is probably the oddest of changes after Kupala—Ida talking to me openly like I’m her friend. I am even more surprised by how I enjoy her company. She has a good mind hidden behind that pretty face, and a sharp wit.

I nod without saying anything. These last few weeks since getting married took a toll on her, and it’s even more pronounced today. She’s harder, more bitter, her pretty lip curled in a perpetual sneer. It’s hard to reconcile this disillusioned woman with the pretty, self-confident girl who taunted me at Kupala.

“Wait,” I say before she goes. “I knew you were coming, so I prepared this for you.”

I hand her a small bag of herbs, the same ones I mixed for Bogna. Ida takes it, comprehension dawning on her face. She looks miffed but takes the bag, avoiding my eyes.

“Now, listen closely,” I say. “Put the herbs into a cupful of water and heat until it boils. Take it off the fire, strain the brew, and put it in a cool place. You can say it’s your medicine if anyone asks.”

She nods, glancing up briefly. Her sneer is gone, face soft. Ida looks like a girl again, vulnerable and scared, and all that’s left of my enmity whooshes out of me.

At the end of the day, she’s just a girl.

“Put three spoons into his wine or mead every night. It won’t spoil the taste, but make sure no one sees you. Men have funny notions about women trying to poison them.”

She laughs bitterly then grabs my hand. “Thank you. Truly.”

“One more thing. The downside of this brew is, he won’t be eager to bed you.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ll live. Thank you. I have to go bury these, and then we’re going to see what Jarota says.” She pauses at the door, shooting me a sly look. “Though something tells me, you already know what he’ll augur.”

“Goodbye, Ida.”

She stands in the doorway with her back to me for a moment before she turns with a resolute nod. “When Czeslawa challenges you for taking her business, I’ll support you.”

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