A Whisper of Shadows Part 2
A new fantastical tale full of magic and shadows - what happens when the shadows whisper
If you’re just joining us, hop back to part 1.
Chenna threw her arm over her face, trying to block out the predawn light. It seeped through the window, painting her room in shades of dark grey. But whenever she closed her eyes, her mind played a tortured rendition of the events of last night. Warped shadows moaned, their eyes filled with fire, as they whirled around a bloody Kai Alma.
She tossed in her bed, but every lump felt like a bump. Eventually, she sighed and rolled onto her back again, admitting defeat. Her head lolled towards the window, the small square filled with a bruised dawn sky.
Throwing off her thin blanket, she slid her feet to the floor and curled her toes against the wood. She stared at her feet as she wriggled her toes, and her mind crept back to the night before.
A soft merrup sounded from the foot of her bed.
“Hey, Panger,” she said as the cat rose into a full body stretch, then sashayed towards her. She reached out to pet him, and he deigned to let her stroke his head before he jumped down.
She followed his lead and stood, stepping over to the window. The cat wove between her legs as she leaned on the window sill to gaze at the early morning street below. Sensa Goh swept the patch in front of their shop, clearing away streamers from the night before, pausing to chat to the tinker Occam as he pushed his cart through the otherwise empty street. Then the shadows at Goh’s feet began to grow, threatening to consume them both.
Chenna’s heart thudded loud in her ears. Panger jumped up onto the sill and rubbed his chin against hers. She lifted her hand to stroke his head, her eyes staring out over the buildings, towards the Daesun quarter.
She scrunched her nose. “I need to go back, don’t I, Panger? To the puppeteer’s house.”
The cat meowed and regarded her with his orange eyes.
Taking that for a yes, she exhaled heavily and her shoulders drooped.
The early morning street quieter than usual. Chenna lingered in the grey under the overhang of the property across the road from Kai Renta’s, her gaze fixed on the house. Bathed in early morning sunshine, the yard was quiet except for a couple of chickens pecking at the ground. There was no sign of the puppeteer himself.
Drawing a deep, fortifying breath, she forced herself out of the shadows, hurrying across the road like she had a purpose … if only she knew what it was. Her stomach flipped when an abrupt trill broke the silence, causing her to freeze for a second. A bird flitted out of the tree beside the puppet shed.
Chenna took it as a sign. She approached the small building, pausing in the doorway. The inside was lit by streaks of sunlight slanting through the slatted shudders on the windows. Deep shadows filled the gaps. The puppets hung from their hooks like corpses from a gibbet.
Pressing her lips into a thin line, she went to the ox and ran her fingers over the thin metal.
“What are you doing?”
Chenna spun around.
Kai Renta stood in the doorway — the only doorway — with a small metal hammer in his hand.
“Apologies, Kai Renta.” She tipped her head in a bow. “Renta Marvani.” She wiped her hands on her skirt then brought a palm to her chest. “I’m —“
“I know who you are, Tal Chenna.” His hand flexed on the handle of the hammer. “Why are you here?”
“I was at the show last night.”
“Ran out, if I recall.” The puppeteer sniffed loudly and stepped into the shed, placing his hammer with the other tools. “Doesn’t tell me why you’re here.”
"It was really hot.”
Renta frowned at her and crossed his arms over his chest. His strong hands wrapped around his biceps. Almost like blacksmith’s hands.
A twitch in her peripheral vision drew her attention back to the puppets. Chenna took a deep breath. “In the Festival House. It was hot. That’s why I ran out.” A breeze she didn’t feel moved the legs of the woodcutter but it stayed silent.
She returned her gaze to Renta. “Are you a witch?” The words tumbled out before she even realized she’d said them aloud.
Then his arms dropped, and he stepped towards her.
A small sound escaped her throat, and she swallowed. He really was built like a blacksmith.
“Didn’t you hear the Witch Hunter?” His voice was low and rough. “There are no more witches.” He stepped over to his workbench, placing his hands on either side of his hammer. His gaze slid her way. “You should know that, Tal Chenna — when did they haul your grandfather away?”
Chenna froze, and her lips tingled. She took a step left, trying to put the workbench between her and Renta. Then a shadow twitched again.
“She’s out back.” The woodcutter’s voice was clear and calm.
“Under the jula tree,” the ex-king added.
“Accusing someone of witchcraft is dangerous, especially when the crown just declared victory.” The puppeteer’s eyes narrowed on her.
She noticed his hand wrapped around the handle of his hammer.
“She wanders the land of the living without anyone to speak for her.”
Chenna glared at the ox. “I can’t —.” She stopped short as Renta moved. “I just meant to say that your show is so magical. It’s almost like the puppets are alive. They speak to me.”
Renta paused, and the hammer still sat on the workbench.
“I didn’t mean anything by it.” She slid closer to the door. “I just wish I could do what you do.” She ran her fingers on the nearest puppet, a noblewoman.
When she reached the door, strong fingers wrapped around her wrist. She gasped.
The puppets moved in another breeze, tinkling as they collided with each other.
“Then you should be more careful, Tal Chenna.” The puppeteer let go. “Words can be dangerous.”
Chenna turned and fled down the path, disturbing a chicken that squawked angrily as she passed.
As Chenna fled the puppeteer’s house, she glanced over her shoulder to see him watching. Then she bumped into someone, someone solid, and fell to the road. She coughed as the metallic tang of the red dust filled her nostrils.
She looked up at a form silhouetted by the rising sun. Squinting and shading her eyes with her hand made little difference. It was only when the figure leaned forward and offered a hand that Chenna recognized Witch Hunter Adept Racha. Something fluttered at the top of her stomach, like a moth against a lit window.
“Tal Chenna.” Adept Racha pulled her up, an almost smile on her lips. Then she released Chenna’s hand as if it burned. “What has you running through the streets so early in the morning?”
Chenna peered down at her skirt as she brushed off the dust from the cobbled road. Her cheeks warmed. “Running an errand. Literally.” She smiled, forcing a lightness she didn’t feel into her expression, as she returned her gaze to Adept Racha. This close she could make out the constellation of freckles on the Adept’s cheeks. “There’s a lot to do before I leave.”
“Before you leave?” Racha’s eyebrows furrowed.
“Oh.” Chenna felt slightly breathless, though she told herself it had nothing to do with the clean smell of Racha’s soap. “I’m heading off to the capital soon. I got accepted to the Royal Academy. Engineering.”
Racha smiled again. “Congratulations. Maybe I’ll see you. With the witch hunt over, I’ve been called back.” Her expression clouded, and she frowned again. “I should go. As you say, lots to do.” She gave Chenna a slight bow then passed and strode down the street.
Chenna watched her for a few seconds, then turned to head home. She froze as her gaze landed on the puppeteer, still staring at her from the shadowed door of his shed. A chill shivered through her. She shook her head then fled down the street, back towards her own neighbourhood.
Stay tuned for part 3.