The Duchess Cannot Sleep || ONC 2021

9 | The Spiritist

The slam of the door behind them closed out every fleeting thought of light, and from the abysmal hallway came a reeking waft of mildew. Still, remarkably, Reide's hand was warm. Andreya swallowed the acrid taste of fear in her throat.

"Well, don't just stand there." The impish man who'd answered the door now shoved her deeper into the hall and Andreya squeaked. "You're not the only people who come by here wanting to ask a question. Get on with it."

"To the right, then?" Reide asked.

Andreya could barely make out the edges of the floorboards; there were doors on either side of them and Reide's figure ahead, but it was difficult to distinguish between shades of shadow. Still, she managed not to slam into a wall while following his steps until, with a quick movement and a distinct fwick, the light of a minuscule match illuminated the entire room—for they had, of course, entered a room.

And there, right in the middle of it, was a bear-like man sitting cross-legged on the floor and staring at them.

Andreya held in her gasp, maintaining her composure once again as the large man lit a lantern with the still-burning match. The walls were plain, no chairs or decorations to adorn the room in any way. The only occupants were them and the man, except when she checked behind her, the door was already closed and their escort was gone. The only ones who remained were her, Reide, and this new man still sitting on the floor. He looked eccentric, all covered in animal pelts with matted white hair. She tried not to meet his eyes.

"State your business." His voice was as gritty as the rest of him.

"You are the spiritist Mister Omula Sabar?" Reide asked.

In response, the man grunted. It seemed to be the most certainty they would get. Reide sat across from him on the floor and Andreya immediately followed suit.

Reide glanced at her and then to Sabar as if to say, This is the guy you've been wanting to see. Tell him about your thing!

Andreya's ability to read expressions wasn't excellent after so many years of seeing only her own face, but she understood enough of it and, with a slow inhale, finally looked at the spiritist for real.

He stared back with big black eyes, almost as if seeing straight through her, and a wave of shivers cascaded down her spine.

"I am... Andreya. Marivatan." If he truly was a spiritist, he would sense any untruth anyway. "And Death does not know who I am."

A long pause came over the plain, candlelit room. Andreya did not know what to expect from the man's reaction, but she was expecting at least some sort of reaction, surely. Instead, Sabar simply blinked as if waiting for her to continue. She shifted her skirts and steeled herself again before recounting her misfortunes.

"I was murdered eighteen years ago along with the rest of my family, in the deep of the night, except I awoke the next morning when everyone else did not. Several days ago, I was wounded and healed within moments, my skin intact." She traced a finger along her cheek and waited for the man to say something. When he did not, she flicked her gaze to Reide and tried not to linger on his surprised look before continuing. "I... was charged with witchcraft and executed by guillotine, but I awoke from that, as well, and fled from Nasavte. You see, I cannot die. Every time I do, I speak with Death, and Death says it does not know me, and that I cannot die."

Andreya had nothing more to say, and so the room fell once again to silence. It took several moments before the large man in front of them finally moved, breaking his unnerving eyes from her and reaching behind his back. Andreya went rigid when his hand returned gripping a long knife.