“Please come in,” the apothecary said, shifting his bundles again as he pried his key free from the door. Ordinarily, Kody would have offered to help, but for some reason he was reluctant to handle whatever the man was carrying.
The shop was small and disordered, and it was dark, even after the man lit a lantern. There were no windows, and the door faced to the west so that little sunlight entered. “It’s better for the fungus,” the apothecary explained as his guests blinked in the gloom.
The mixture of smells was almost dizzying. Some spicy, some sweet, some earthy—and beneath it all, the unmistakable scent of decay. Kody had visited an apothecary before, but this particular shop obviously catered to a different clientele. Instead of remedies for cuts, bruises, and headaches, this apothecary stocked ingredients for less everyday purposes. Not going to think about that either, he resolved grimly.
“What can I do for you chaps?” the man asked once he was snugly behind the counter. He was tall, and regarded them with large amber eyes. Do you maybe have some Adali blood in you, friend? If so, he might not be any more cooperative than the rest of them.
“We are trying to identify this man,” said Lenoir, gesturing at Kody to produce the drawing. “Have you seen him?”
The apothecary frowned thoughtfully and took the drawing, holding it near the lantern. “Hmm, I don’t think so. Have you checked with the Asis clan?”
“Is that the camp just outside town?” Kody asked. “We’ve just come from there. They claim not to know him, but we think they’re lying.”
“Why is that?” the apothecary asked coolly. “Because they’re Adali?”
His amber eyes were vaguely challenging now, but before Kody could reply, Lenoir said, “Because they were lying. We could tell from their faces that they had seen the man before. Even one of the children knew him.” So Lenoir had noticed that too. Of course he had.
The apothecary shrugged. “That could be. I suppose they might have assumed he had done something wrong and wanted to look into it themselves. The Adali prefer to do their own punishing.”
“The man is dead,” Kody told him.
“Is he, now? Well, in that case, maybe they wanted to protect themselves. The Adali are very familiar with guilt by association.” He smiled thinly.
“That is a plausible explanation,” Lenoir said, “but I think there is more to it. One of the clan members spat on the ground when he saw the sketch.”
Kody snorted softly, amazed. Lenoir had been busy staring down the old woman, but he still hadn’t missed a thing. The spitter had been silent and far enough to Lenoir’s left that Kody would have assumed he was beyond the reach of the inspector’s peripheral vision.
“An outcast, maybe,” the apothecary suggested. “When an Adal is exiled from his people, they repudiate him altogether. They don’t even acknowledge his existence anymore.”
“And what would get a man exiled from the clan?”
“Oh, lots of things.” The apothecary heaved the sack he had been carrying up onto the counter and started untying its cord. Kody watched with morbid fascination, half afraid to see what was inside. “Winding up in a Braelish jail is usually enough, since the crimes that put you there would have been punished even more severely by the clan. They also banish those who are seen to disrespect Adali values. Usually the offense is spiritual or religious in some way. Knowing the Asis clan, I’d bet it was khekra.”
“What did you say?” Lenoir frowned. “Hek-rah?”
The man smiled. “Close enough. Adali magic. Or rather, a particularly dark brand of Adali magic. The Asis clan had a couple of witchdoctors who were famous for it once upon a time, but they renounced khekra years ago. They say it’s brought them nothing but grief, and they’re probably right. The elders have always frowned upon it, but these days, anybody caught meddling with dark magic is banished, or worse.”
Kody and Lenoir exchanged glances. They’d heard of such magic, of course—everyone had. In the more backwater villages, especially, all sorts of bad luck, from weather to disease to accidents, was said to be the work of Adali sorcery. But the more educated folk of the Five Villages dismissed that as superstitious nonsense.
The apothecary inverted the sack onto the counter, causing Kody to take an involuntary step back. To his relief, however, he saw that it was only a bundle of dried flowers. “You chaps look a little skeptical,” the apothecary said. “I suppose you don’t believe in magic.”
“Do you?” Lenoir asked.
The other man shrugged, fetching a large earthenware pot from somewhere behind the counter. He started to separate the flowers from one another and drop them into the pot. “I’ve been dealing with Adali for more than twenty-five years, and in that time I’ve seen a lot that I can’t explain. Their gift for medicine is undeniable. On top of that, when you come across an Adal who’s had a string of uncannily bad luck, you almost always find that he’s offended someone recently. The Adali live in constant fear of hexes.”
Kody snorted. “A man who believes he’s cursed has a way of making his own bad luck.”
“Maybe,” the apothecary said, “but in that case, it doesn’t really matter if the curse is real or not, does it? It works just the same.”
“Do any of these spells involve using children?” Lenoir asked bluntly.
He was trying to shock the apothecary, and it worked. The man’s hands froze momentarily. “Why do you want to know?” he asked in an icy whisper.
Kody opened his mouth to reply, but Lenoir cut him off. “Never mind that. Answer the question. Have you heard of any form of khekra that requires the use of children?”
The apothecary’s gaze dropped back to the dried flowers, his now-trembling fingers clumsy in their progress. “God help me, I have,” he murmured, “and it’s robbed me of many a night’s sleep.”
Kody stared, feeling suddenly ill.
“Who told you of it?” Lenoir asked. “You said the Asis clan had witchdoctors who were famed for khekra.”
“I said they used to. Their elders forbid it now.”
“Why?”
“You’ve noticed how poor they are? About ten years ago, their herds fell prey to some sort of plague. They were completely wiped out, down to the last animal. Then the witchdoctors started turning up dead. The elders were convinced the clan was being punished for something, something to do with khekra. They outlawed it, gave it up completely. After that, anybody who was caught performing khekra was banished or executed. The damage was done, though. The clan’s place in Adali society is compromised. They’re no longer able to negotiate for the choicer migration routes. They don’t even bother showing up at the annual gathering of the clans. There’s just no point. They have no leverage, can’t pay any tribute to the powerful clans. That’s why they’re still hanging around Berryvine so close to winter—they have no place else to go. And without proper grazing lands, they can’t rebuild their herd. They’re so poor that they hardly even get raided anymore. There’s nothing left to take.”
Except maybe their women and children, Kody thought darkly. It certainly sounded like the Asis were in desperate straits. Desperate people did desperate things. We’re on the right track. Still, he couldn’t quite manage to feel happy about it. This was going somewhere terrible; he knew it in his guts.