Night Witch

Exclusive Look at The Mara Chapters (Unedited)

Mara clutched the pot and the dress to her chest as she stumbled back through her hut and into her tiny bedroom. She had to hide them--and quick--before Russell Pinkerton knew they were gone. They may have been worthless, but from the amount of sneaking it took to get into the room where they were kept, it was nearly impossible to believe.

Mara slumped down onto the floor, trying to steady the relentless one-two-one-two-one-two of her heart by matching her breaths to the sound of the storytelling drums in the distance.

Thump. Thump. She needed to hide Pinkerton's things. Thump. Thump. Her old trunk where she kept all of her oddities was out of the question, since it didn't have a lock. Thump. Thump. The dress would wrinkle, too. Thump. Thump. Under her pillow and under her bed were too predictable. Thump. Thump. In fact, it was probably best to leave her shared bedroom since Vasilisa was one of the nosiest people she knew. Thump. Thump. Maybe if she opened the jar and placed the dress in it it would be easier to find a hiding place. Thump. Thump. She could hide it in the kitchen if she put it in the pot. Vasilisa and Ma never went in there, unless they were playing apothecary.

And how likely was that?

Not very, Mara thought, the edges of her lips curling up into a smirk. Ma's brain was as gone as her health, and whenever Vassie actually worked instead of flirting like a heartless maniac she did it at Olga's house. The kitchen was the safest place.

Mara brushed a strand of pale blond hair to the side of her face before lighting a candle and holding the pot up to the light. Even in dim lighting, she could see through it like it was--what was it called? that strange new treasure? Mara tilted her head from side to side, trying to remember. When she was at the Trader booths this morning she'd been more focused on the maps and the jewels for her to even look at the basic things; she saved those for tomorrow. But now...now she was wracking her brain, trying to recall.

Glass. The word dawned on her with a gasp of excitement. She'd never seen any pots made of glass; it simply wasn't strong enough.
Or maybe it was...

She flicked the side of the jar: a dull plunk. It was stronger than it looked; most glasses and the like had a much higher, more fragile sound.

Its top was had a painting of the night sky on top of it--a dark blue background dotted with white pinpricks of paint and the slightly darker imprint of a new moon against the setting. It was pretty, in a strange way. She'd never seen anyone decorate kitchenware--but then again, there were many places she hadn't been, and many things she didn't know.

And from the way Pinkerton was protecting it, it wasn't any ordinary kitchenware.

Set...me free...

Mara glanced side to side, trying to ignore the growing senses of curiosity and apprehension in her stomach. She needed to hide these objects, to figure out what Pinkerton was up to, and to stay out of Vasilisa's way. Easy enough.

And it all started with opening this jar. She probably hadn't heard any voices. The only voices she could have heard from what she was doing were from outside, where everyone else was. Don't be stupid, Mara.

She wrapped her fingers around the jar and twisted it open, letting the lid clatter onto the floor. As soon as she did, cold air rushed from the jar, and voices seemed to spin around Mara's head. Thank you--payment--food--emotions--Mara--Hedge--

Mara took a deep breath. She was just imagining things.

No...Mara Hedge.

She was just losing her mind, more like. Ancestors, Vasilisa may have been thoughtless, but she was reckless, and that was twice as bad sometimes. She'd have to be more careful next time; no matter how little of her emotions she revealed, she could still be too impulsive. This jar must have been notifying of her of her own stupid behavior.

She'd do better. She always did.

You...need...more Darkness.

Ignoring the voice, Mara picked up the dress with two slender fingers. In the candlelight, she could make out gold letters hidden in the threads of the dress. They seemed to be runes of a sort, a strange language of their own.

The even stranger thing about it was that all of Skava used the same words, even if each province had its own variation on the language. And yet these letters were unlike any she'd ever seen.

What if--?

No. It couldn't be. Pinkerton was too upstanding. Too righteous and preachy. And he was the village leader, for Ancestor's sake!

But there was something oddly magickal about this whole thing...oddly illegal.

For a moment, Mara allowed herself to imagine it: herself confronting Pinkerton, using the information against him. Him accepting her as heir to the village leadership. Her using her planning skills to end the famine, being one of the greatest leaders that Moracia had ever seen. Being serenaded in bard's songs as wise and strong. Being the better sister, and leaving Vasilisa in the shadow of her spotlight.

It was a useless dream...but it was right at her fingertips. Take it, the voice insisted. Take it and don't look back.

Blackmail wasn't always the most secure way to gain a position, though, as much as she liked it. She needed to gain his trust. Make a plan. Prove that he was breaking the law and dethrone him at the appropriate time. He was probably already creating a plan to maximize their resources during the famine. If she took it while it was still in its early stages she could follow through, gain the trust of her people, and be hailed as a hero.

The only problem: if he knew something was missing from that place where he kept everything, he might move it. And she couldn't afford that. Not when she planned to expose him.

She placed the lid back on the jar and picked it up. It was oddly light, almost as though it had been emptied of a heavy load. But...that was impossible. Air was air.

She picked up the dress as well, and wrapped them both in a black shawl on the corner of Vasilisa's bed before bringing them to her chest and leaving the hut.

The second the cool outside air hit her skin, she broke into a run. It was darker than it should have been. Instead of the typical violet sky that occurred at nine o'clock clock, the usual vision of night was already hung in the sky: dark blue sky, a small amount of stars that barely shone through the darkness, and a dark spot where the moon usually was. They barely illuminated her path. In fact, the best way for her to see was for her to locate where the fire and drums were and go as far away from that as she could.

She wouldn't be going back there.

Word Count: 1210 words

Hi, everyone! I hope you all enjoyed this look at Mara! Also, there are a LOT of Easter eggs/hints/meta moments I dropped here, so feel free to comment your theories (now might be a good time to re-read Chapter 1, actually). I love forward to hearing your thoughts!