by Josh Woods
“Now your promises,” Hava said.
The right-hand witch began to state her promises, but Hava interrupted her, saying, “With blood on your index fingers.”
The witch drew a crow’s foot from its hiding place in her hair, probably the same one they had used on Hava, and she pricked the pads of both of her index fingers with its claw. She prodded her sister-witch to do the same.
Though not happy, the other witch took the crow’s foot and did the same.
They swore to ask for no payment or favor in return for summoning the dead for Hava, and they agreed to take the cost upon themselves, whatever that cost would be.
Hava said, “And before you wipe the blood from your fingers, I want you both to know that I ask a costly summoning from you.”
“In what way?” said the left-hand witch.
“I ask that you call forth someone I murdered.”
The right-hand witch looked back at the corpse of her fellow witch on the floor.
“Not her. Someone else. Someone I murdered by my own hand,” Hava said.
“You killed Lenka?”
“No, I want you to call forth the maidservant named Seph.”
The right-hand witch said, “But you are the maidservant Seph.”
Hava shook her head no.
“Then are you—” the right-hand witch looked terrified to say it. She looked to the left-hand witch, who with her widening eyes seemed to be catching on slowly, also joining in fear. “Are you La Voisin, the new queen of the Black Palace, soon to take your place as one of the Three Arch-Witches of the World? O beautiful La Voisin! Forgive us! O merciful La Voisin!”
The witches bowed repeatedly as they sat, and the left-hand witch made the mournful whimpers of a coward.
Hava said, “I am not La Voisin.”
They stopped bowing. They waited for her to explain herself, and they were angry at being made to look so sniveling.
“I am the one who will destroy La Voisin. As you fear her name above others, so shall you fear my name above hers.”
The left-hand witch laughed. She was not interested in hearing what Hava’s name was now, not at all interested in having yet another name to fear. She said, “I do understand now that you are no maidservant. You have taken command of two of Lenka’s wolves, and you have taken her golem. But now that I know you are a witch—a young, impetuous witch who does not honor and fear those older than her as she ought, but a witch nonetheless—then I must ask you: how is it that you think you can kill another witch who is so much older than you? What makes you think you could have any potency over La Voisin coming from your embarrassingly few years? And from the youth of your servants as well?” She laughed again, pleased with her own superior insight. “Did you not know that this is an impossible thing? Are you that unschooled, young one?”
The right-hand witch was not joining in the gloating of her sister and instead looked back at their sister-witch dead on the floor behind them.
“I shall find my own ways,” Hava said. “And you are quick to forget your sister-witch. Surely she was older than I, and my commands were no less potent on her, and my wolves no less sharp, and she lies no less dead.”
The left-hand witch looked back at the corpse. She had been too eager to find a flaw in Hava’s claims. She had indeed already forgotten the death of her leader. Her love and her grief for her sister-witch must not have been too great, or, perhaps, she had trusted too much in the rules of the world that she had grown to know. She spoke with some amount of shame. “Yes, you have found a way to slay an older witch. I do not know how you made this possible, for even the slave-wolves under your curses and charms are not older than she, but it is a crime nonetheless, the worst crime among witches.”
“Indeed it is, but I am no witch. My name is Hava. And the wolves are not my slaves, nor under my curses or charms. They choose to serve me, as you will now.”
The left-hand witch could not think of what to say. The right-hand witch comforted her with a hand on her knee and said, “Let us do as we’re told and be done with this.”
“Yes, let us begin,” Hava said. “I’ve been present at many summonings before. I close my eyes and envision the dead while I repeat the name in silence. And you do the rest.”
“Yes,” said the right-hand witch. “But you say that you were Seph’s murderer. It may take much time to call her out if you want her to have her wits about her. It will be difficult to keep her calm with you in the room. Or is it that you wish to summon her only in terror?”
“No,” Hava said. “I want you to keep her calm. I want her to stay calm.”
“Very well,” the right-hand witch said.
All three of them closed their eyes and concentrated.
Hava repeated Seph’s name in her mind and thought of her face. She thought of her smug delight at the murderous betrayal of their beloved Ziggurat, but that would not do. It made Hava angry, causing disturbance. She cleared her mind and thought of Seph’s face again, but Hava remembered the sight of her own hand holding Seph by her bonnet, her other hand bringing her brass blade of Nachash across one side of Seph’s throat, and then across the other side, as if she were a lamb at the slaughter. She saw Seph’s face, and it was not of pain but of disbelief. Seph had made all sorts of plans and plots and double-plots, and secret allies, and contingencies, and she had gotten the Witchfinders doing everything she had wanted them to do, even getting them to think it was all their idea, and her scheme had been running just as she had worked out, but what she had not prepared for was that Hava, of all people in the world, would do something about it. Hava had kept to herself during her servitude alongside Seph and the other maidservants at the House of Limestone. She had been silent and loyal in her role, tending their chickens and goats, fetching plants and spices, polishing cauldrons, scrubbing the linens, bartering with merchants for miles around, a hundred other tasks, never once speaking a word of discontent or ambition. She had been quiet because she had been content; she had been happy. Seph had always spoken of greater witches and grand powers, but Hava had never anticipated that Seph would act on such thoughts. And what Seph had never anticipated was the magnitude of Hava’s grief at the death of Ziggurat, and at the betrayal, and if she in some way had anticipated it, then she had underestimated Hava’s anger, an anger great enough to drive her to kill her own dear sister-maidservant, and even if she had anticipated that anger in some way, even if she had plans by which to eventually calm Hava, Seph had underestimated Hava’s will. Everyone had: the Witchfinders, the Witches of Endor, Lenka, the wolves. Only Ashurbanipal saw a fellow conqueror in Hava’s countenance. Everyone else had seen a simple girl, and they had learned otherwise.
But these thoughts would not do. Hava was disturbing the calling of the dead. If she wanted Seph to come in a calm enough state to speak with her, she would have to envision her in pleasant ways.
Hava cleared her mind again, and she thought farther back in time, thought of when she had first seen Seph. It was not a face that she saw. It was a hood. The face was hidden in the bonnet, but the hand was outstretched. Hava had sat curled in on herself under the chassis of a broken-down military transport that was missing all of its tires. It had been abandoned in a dimly lit corner of a parking lot, and the night had been unusually cold for Tel Aviv. A storm had been nearing, erasing the stars as it came. It might have been the night that Hava would finally die, of cold, of hunger, having survived day to day as an orphaned child on the streets, like hanging from a cliff, just waiting for the moment of letting go. But a figure had come along in a crimson dress and a deep white hood. She had hauled a burlap sack filled with much of something light, and Hava had smelled from it cumin and fennel. The hooded figure had said, “Come with us, little girl.” Hava had said nothing, hesitating, uncertain whether to flee from the hooded figure like she had fled the numerous sweaty, stinking men who had likewise tried to get her to come with them. The hooded figure had said, “Our house has lost a maidservant, and to replace her, I am tasked
with stealing a child, but I have found one instead for whom it would be a blessing. I do this kindness for you because it was once done for me. If you come, you will get to step halfway into another world, a better one, where it is women who are feared, and where powers are grand.” Little Hava had remained unconvinced. Then the figure had removed her hood and had shown her face. She was clean, and she was young, not too many years older than Hava herself. And she had finished by saying, “If you come with me, at the very least you will be among friends. We always take care of one another.” And Hava had gone with her.
Hava kept her eyes closed for the séance, but she cried. She saw that hoodless face of Seph, that smile, as Hava had given Seph her hand for the first time, and Hava cried.
The sounds of yawning and hissing filled the room. Hava felt chilled, as if a mist was settling on her skin. She tossed away the lamb shank and sat on the window cushion hugging herself. The two witches across from her spoke with the same voice, a backward breath that repeated a call for Seph to step forth, to step forth through the fog of death, to step forth into the place they have made for her. And then their voice said, “Open your eyes, Hava, for the dead comes quickly.”
Hava opened her eyes. A cloud of ether had collected before her. It seeped out of the mouths and nostrils of the two witches on the bench. It seeped out of the pores of their skin, wrinkling them like dry leaves. The vapor seemed to fill with an image, or to reflect one, a maidservant’s dress. It had no feet or hands, but a body filled the dress, and the hood of its bonnet was deep with shadow. It surely had to be Seph, but she had not yet come all the way. The two Witches of Endor were inviting her, not pulling her against her will, so she did not have to come forth entirely if she did not want to. Otherwise they would risk losing her to terror and madness.
Hava decided to speak. She said, “Come forth all the way, Seph. It is Hava who calls you. I wish you no further harm.”
Bare feet became visible beneath the dress, and hands at the ends of the sleeves. The hands pulled off the hood, and Seph revealed her face, like she had done that night in Tel Aviv. Her throat was cut, but she did not bleed. Her face was cold, no longer smiling or surprised or even angry, but cold. She spoke with a hollow voice. She said, “Hava, you are a fool.”
“You know why I murdered you, Seph. And you know you risked death, and deserved it, for your betrayal and your schemes. I need not explain myself about that, but there is something else.”
“What do you know of our schemes, Hava? What do you know of what we will bring to pass? You, a girl who sweeps floors and clears tables? I had sympathy for you, as if you were a lost kitten, and I was going to bring you with me to power. I would have made you the mistress of my great house, the head of all my maidservants, and I would have treated you kindly until the day you died as a simple old woman. My sympathy for you was my downfall. I can hardly fathom it now. The blindness I had in my sympathy for you. You, who could never see past the moment of a simple sacrifice. You, who lashed at my throat out of thoughtless fear, like a dumb cat scratches the woman who feeds it. You have proved yourself to be what I should have known you for, Hava: a voiceless weakling who knows nothing of power.”
Hava felt a moment of anger. Not long ago she would have let herself be deeply wounded by such words, but now she had focus. She said, “Seph, I was right to kill you, but I want you to know that I am sorry.”
“You speak like you have gone mad, Hava. You are right but you are sorry? That is nonsense.”
“No,” Hava said. “My heart aches for Ziggurat, but it aches for you too, Seph. I wish I had not killed you. I know now what I should have done. I should have beaten you. I should have caused you great pain and suffering, but I should have kept you alive. What I could have gotten you to confess would have helped me to find those whom I now seek to destroy. In time, you might have joined me. Maybe, in time, we could have been sisters again. I was right to kill you, Seph, but I am sorry.”
“You should have beaten me?” Seph said, now less cold, now aghast with a laugh. “You should have caused me great suffering? Soon you will know something about that, Hava. There is a witch whose name is Lenka, and she awaits me in her house, and because I have not come to her, she will certainly seek me in wrath. And in doing so, she will find you. She will give you a lesson in beating, Hava. She will give you a lesson in suffering.”
Hava said, “I have already broken Lenka.”
“What is this you say?”
“I have broken Lenka. She lies powerless in a house that was once hers and is now mine. Her mouth is broken. Her witch-fingers are broken. I have set loose her wolves and have taken on those who stayed to serve me. I have her golem at my command.”
“You lie,” Seph said.
“You knew me well enough in life, Seph. Do I seem to you as if I am lying?”
“Does Lenka live?”
Hava said, “I do not know for certain whether she will live through her wounds, nor do I much care. You might know better than I. Have you seen her ghost in the afterlife?”
“I do not know what she looks like,” Seph said. “And I know nothing of the afterlife. I have not ventured far. The wheels turn above the sky, and they are heavy and grinding, so I have not gone toward them and I know nothing about any of that.” The cloud of mist that held her image seemed to grow steadily denser as the room continued to chill.
Hava said, “Seph, I have called you here for two reasons. The first was to tell you that I am sorry, which I have done. The second is to find out from you how I can find La Voisin.”
Seph’s eyes seemed to spark. She said, “How do you know of La Voisin?”
“She is the witch at the head of your schemes, is she not? The one you served in secret? You, and Lenka, and the Malandanti all served her in all that you have done—is this correct?”
“Hava, what are you doing? What have you done?”
“I have said.”
“What of the Witchfinders? What of the artifact they were delivering? Have you spoken to La Voisin? What did she say?” Seph spoke fast and sounded afraid, as if she were still in danger though she was already dead.
Hava said, “I have left those Witchfinders behind me to die. I have set loose Ashurbanipal. He is a great warrior and a great scholar, and he hunts them now, or has already slain them.”
“What do you mean you set him loose? That is not possible, Hava. That is not. You should not have even spoken to him. He is dangerous. And you set Lenka’s wolves loose? Whom did you turn them over to? What do you mean by all this? Please tell me, Hava, that you did not set Ashurbanipal loose.”
“I did. I have broken all their fetters and have let them go. They are free.”
“Oh, Hava. This is not how it is done. Please tell me this is not true.”
“Do I still look like I am lying to you, Seph?”
Seph’s face looked mournful for the first time. She said, “You are tugging at the threads of the world, Hava. You are unraveling things that you know nothing of. This is not how the order of things is supposed to go. Witches keep dark things in bonds, Hava. This is why the world is in balance, and this is why it keeps going. Witchfinders even have a role in the order of things, Hava, even them. This is the way of safety. It has taken ages of work for them to do all this, witches and Witchfinders alike, and it takes endless, sleepless vigilance. You cannot let yourself ruin the way of all things on a mere whim of yours. You cannot let things run free. You do not know what you are doing, Hava, but you are unravelling the world.”
“Isn’t that what you set out to do, Seph? To disrupt the order of things and put yourself at the top?”
“No, Hava. It was only a changing of the guard. Ziggurat was old, and she horded a great treasure under her house, a great doorway that she kept sealed, unused, for ages unnumbered, as did her witch-mother before her who gave over this inheritance. She might have seemed kind to you, Hava, but she horded unused what other witches could benefit from. It was her time to leave. Anothe
r witch was to take the House of Limestone under the command of La Voisin. And La Voisin was going to ascend. She was going to retire one of the Three Arch-Witches of the World and take her own rightful place among them. The Dread Sisters are things of grand terror, but they have been too long drowsy, and she, though new of the three, was to be the one of wakefulness, and she was going to claim the Crown of Bones of the Black Palace and put that dead place to use again, to whip it awake and make it serve the witches who built it, as it should be. All as it should be, Hava. It was simply the time for all of this to pass, and I was going to benefit in my small way. The way of the world was not going to change.”
“It is going to change now,” Hava said. “And it will begin when I destroy La Voisin.”
“If you have done what you have said, then a change has already begun,” said Seph. She looked blank in amazement. “You have the artifact, don’t you?”
“If you mean the worm, then, yes, I do. I care much for him, and I think he likes me very much in return.”
“Hava, this is not like one of Ziggurat’s chickens for you to befriend like a child. This is not even like sly Nachash. Its name is called Shamir, and all has been done so it would be put in La Voisin’s hands, so that the plans could continue. The Witchfinders brought it for her to receive. Even the Witchfinders serve the great La Voisin—don’t you see? Even our enemies fear and serve her. You cannot defy her, Hava, and you cannot keep the Shamir. Its powers are too great for you to control. It can break more than you can imagine.”
Hava had not known that the little worm’s name was Shamir. She had planned on naming him soon anyway, and the name Shamir seemed to fit as good as any. But she hated the thought of his being treated harshly like a mere tool in the cruel hands of a witch like La Voisin. And if Shamir was part of some unholy bargain between a witch and the Witchfinders—a betrayal to all of their kind, the likes of which she had never even heard stories of—then it was all the more important that Hava keep Shamir out of any hands but her own. Hava felt more certain, more determined by knowing this, and she was happy that this conversation with Seph was getting closer to what she really wanted to know, so she kept it going closer. She said, “Where were you and Lenka supposed to take Shamir? If everything had gone as you planned, where were you to meet La Voisin?”