Page 62 of Minor Works of Meda

“—supposed to find one person, and ask them—”

“It’s just a dance. Aren’t you supposed to change partners?”

“—and by the way I didn’t want to help with the cooking, and I’m not in a bad mood, and just because you want to be here doesn’t mean I have to pretend I do too.”

There was a long pause, in which I felt my stomach slowly turn over itself. There was no way that Oraik was going to follow me to safety now. I was going to be stuck in this idiotic town forever trying to stop some murderous cabal of witches from blood sacrificing him for who-knew-what reason. Or maybe Kalcedon would help me club him over the head and drag him to safety. But I’d definitely ruined any prospect of staying his friend. That was certain. It had only been a matter of time.

“Well enough,” Oraik said after a moment. “So, that was a lot. Are you hungry?”

“…Yes,” I admitted.

“Then let’s fix that,” he said. He stood up and offered me his hand. “You can’t celebrate Laghek Day without trying the laghek.”

I looked up at him suspiciously.

“Why are you still being nice to me?”

He sighed.

“Because, for a captor, you’ve been very accommodating. A pleasant abduction, all things considered.”

“I saved your life. I didn’t abduct you,” I grumbled as I took his hand. He hauled me up.

“Well, maybe,” Oraik admitted. “But that makes for a much less interesting story, doesn’t it?”

Chapter 27

There was a bonfire in the middle of the square.

I paused at the edge of the street, my hands clammy. The fire was enormous, taller than I was. I hardly even noticed the size of the crowd; we’d only met a fraction of the villagers before, but now there were people everywhere. Musicians played along the outside of the square as circles of villagers spun dancing around the flames. Food sizzled over smaller cooking-fires.

But my attention was focused on the giant pillar of fire in front of me.

Just a fire. Just a festival. It’s meant to be that large.

“Come on,” Oraik said, and tugged me into the crowd. I tried to look at him instead of the fire, but it was still there, glowing red and hot in the corner of my eye, bleeding light on the crowd. My heart thumped loudly once, then again, harder. All I could smell was burning. The smoke vanished up into the darkening inky sky.

He let go of my hand. We’d made it to one of the tables beside a smaller cooking fire, and that one glowed too, red-orange and hungry. Oraik turned around with food in his hands, one of the circles of flatbread folded around pieces of laghek and topped with chopped onion. I mumbled a thanks and accepted it from him.

I ate it carefully, staring blankly at a patch of houses in front of me. I could dimly tell that it was sharp with flavor but I barely tasted a thing.

Oraik pressed his palm to my forehead, and I let him.

“Do you feel alright? You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine,” I said, and shook my head. “Just a memory.” My eyes flicked to the bonfire, and he tracked the movement, then clicked his tongue.

“From earlier today?” he asked. “Is that what’s been bothering you? Meda, I’m not sure if you noticed, but that man was a pirate.”

“No, it’s…” I shook my head. I didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want him to ask. “I’m fine.”

“Hm.” He held out his hand to me and smiled. “Then will you dance with me? In the interest of truth, you are the fifth person I’ve asked today.”

“Why don’t you go find Nikkos? Or Cliantha? Or someone.”

“One dance,” he said. “Come on. I bet you’ll feel better if you keep moving. I know I always do. Sometimes the worst thing we can do is think.”

I barely moved my head, but it was technically a nod, and Oraik saw. He lifted my bag off my shoulders and tucked it beneath a table. Then he dragged me into the crowd, closer to the flames. The dancers parted away from us like spinning tops. No space stayed empty long as couple after couple whirled through the square, feet stomping each time they changed direction. The music was too loud.

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