Page 15 of When Among Crows
“What doyouknow?”
“I know a person isn’t a species.”
Dymitr frowns. “Do you think I’m not aware of that?”
“You might try to be,” Niko says. “But the truth is, you’ve met too few of her kind to know what about her is zmora and what about her is just her.” He tilts his head. “Am I wrong?”
Ala faces the strzyga—who’s fighting under the name “Teresa,” though Dymitr is sure that’s a pseudonym, given how paranoid everyone seems to be about giving their name—and somewhere in the warehouse, a bell goes off. Teresa launches herself at Ala with enthusiasm, all the speed and strength of her kind evident in the sure, fast movement.
Ala, in response, simply… shrinks.
Of course, she can’tactuallyshrink—zmory aren’t shapeshifters—but the illusion is so perfect that she appears to. A child stands in her place, small and thin with scabby knees.
“Pretty please,” the child says, her voice reedy. “Don’t hurt me, please!”
The strzyga falters, blinking at the child, who steps toward her with arms outstretched. The momentary hesitation costs her, because as the child moves, it seems to grow, stretching grotesquely until Ala is standing in front of her again, punching her in the face.
The crowd gasps as one, and Ala slips away.
“You’re not wrong. I haven’t met many zmory,” Dymitr says, then. “So tell me about her.”
“Well, most zmory aren’t quite that good at illusions,” Niko says with a laugh.
Teresa stumbles back, the velvet ropes catching her, and licks blood from the corner of her mouth. Ala grins at her, and Teresa lunges, her face shifting into that of a bird.
Every strzyga has a sowa form, an owl-like shape that they can move into at will. Teresa’s is a snowy owl, the rim of her yellow eyes stark, only a hint of black dappling the top of her head. Wings explode from her back, wide and white, and her fingernails grow into true talons. With a screech, she launches herself into the air, lands on Ala, and bites down at the juncture between Ala’s neck and shoulder.
“Ala helped a friend of mine once,” Niko says casually, like they aren’t both watching Ala’s shirt turn bright red with blood. “He was fighting off some Holy Order scum, defending a young zmora—one of the Dryja cousins, I think—and though Aleksja was young at the time, she had this skill—”
Ala screams, and grabs Teresa’s wing, wrenching it to the side hard enough to make Teresa release her. Then she disappears.
It’s a far more advanced illusion than it appears, Dymitr thinks. It requires Ala to re-create the details of the boxing ring exactly, but without her body inside of it, and to project those details not just to Teresa, but to everyone in the room.
He’s never seen anything like it.
“She produces extremely detailed illusions,” Niko continues. “In this case, she made the Knight think he was covered in something—spiders, I think—and he was sodistracted he gave my friend a chance to run away, young Dryja cousin in tow. She saved his life.”
Teresa, her face still an owl’s, looks around the arena, confused by the sudden disappearance of her opponent. Dymitr only has time to observe a faint depression in the boxing ring floor and a shadow Ala didn’t quite manage to hide when Ala reappears midair, jumping on Teresa’s back and wrapping one strong arm around her neck.
Teresa chokes and thrashes, but Ala locks her arms and clamps her knees around Teresa’s ribs. Teresa rams her back into one of the posts at the corner of the arena, and Ala grunts with pain, but doesn’t release her.
“Fucking—zmora—bitch!” Teresa chokes.
“My friend didn’t survive much longer than that—the Knights are too relentless,” Niko goes on. “But Ala gave him a few weeks he wouldn’t otherwise have had. Bravery and kindness create a debt, and I repay debts, even if they belonged to my fallen friend.”
Teresa falls back, Ala still wrapped around her like a squid. She falls in such a way that Ala is trapped beneath her; her hold breaks from the force of the fall, and Teresa elbows her hard in the side. Ala rolls away, and everything goes dark.
This trick, Dymitr recognizes. Klara pulled it on him at the Crow. It seems simple compared to what Ala did last, but then, she just caught an elbow to the ribs. He hears scuffling, a groan, and then the illusion of blackness disappears, like the trip of a light switch. He sees Teresapinned to the mat in the middle of the boxing ring, with her arm wrenched behind her and Ala’s knee in her back.
Teresa’s owl face shifts back into her human one, and she slaps the mat, yielding. Ala releases her. Blood streaks her shoulder, but there’s a satisfied look on her face.
Niko smiles, with teeth.
“I just made a disgusting amount of money,” he says to Dymitr. “I bet on her.”
Dymitr’s stated purpose in being at the fight is to clean up Ala afterward, so that’s what he does. He asks Niko for a first aid kit, and though Niko doesn’t respond, he turns up with one a few minutes later, setting it down next to Ala on the bench where she sits, recovering. He says something about getting her a beer, and strides away.
Everywhere he goes, the crowd parts for him.
