vi. sacrifices
— randvi

KAZ AND RANDVI spent most of their walk towards the market in silence.

Whilst Randvi usually feared silence as it left her alone with only her wandering thoughts as company, she was grateful for the lack of conversation that day. Kaz had not once asked about her reaction to the Drüskelle, and the longer she could keep him from asking, the better.

When they finally reached Novokribirsk they were met by a wondrous sight. The market place was bustling with life. Ravkans passed by carrying baskets of grains, stopping mid walk to talk to friends and vendors. They passed rows of vibrant spices, curtains of silk, and stacks of fresh vegetables. Unfortunately, as was the pattern with war, no one seemed interested in spending what little money they had on silks and exotic spices.

It wasn't the Ravka she remembered as a girl. The place had grown, and bustled with excitement, and hope. The West had prospered in the recent years, but Randvi doubted the East shared in this wealth. Perhaps if Randvi had settled in West Ravka her life would have been better, but only the gods knew the answer to that.

As they weaved through crowds of Ravkans, the sweet scent of toffee and sugar hung in the air, making Randvi's stomach growl. She hadn't realised just how hungry she was until her eyes landed on a stall filled with sweet treats. She offered a smile to the vendor, an old women with greying hair, and picked up a handful of sugar coated figs, tossing a few coins to the lady. She didn't spare another second gawking at the treats, and began stuffing them into her mouth two at a time, her fingers growing sticky.

Besides the sweet stall lay an old carpet, covered in dust, housing small tourist trinkets. There were maps, small wooden statues, and piles of bones allegedly belonging to some of Ravka's saints. Yet more worshipping of false idols, of frauds.

"You know," Randvi began, wiping her sticky hands on her clothes. "We should make an offering to the gods before we travel through the fold, and ask for their protection."

"Great idea." kaz replied sarcastically. "Why don't you sacrifice the goat?"

"How about we sacrifice you?" Huffed Randvi, picking up her speed to walk ahead of Kaz.

The two spent the rest of their walk in silence, which Randvi was sure Kaz was grateful for. The only times he spoke to her it would comprise of metaphors, riddles, or sarcastic comments aiming to poke fun at her. It was times like these when she found herself looking forwards to killing Kaz, just so she wouldn't have to deal with his arrogance.

Yet, with every huff at his snark remarks, she couldn't help but smile. She was torn between laughing and punching him. Perhaps she should do both.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they came across rows of pens housing sheep, cows, chickens, and goats. Feeling a grin crawl on her lips, Randvi immediately walked over to a pen, gently stroking above the nose of a brown cow.

"This reminds me of home." Randvi remarked, biting down on her lip in attempt to suppress an ever growing smile. "A farmer in our village had a herd of fluffy brown cows, and they had little bells hanging around their necks so he'd know if they wandered too far."

If she closed her eyes, she could picture the memory so vividly. She could feel the wind blowing through her hair, smell the fresh meadows, and feel the grass beneath her hands. Randvi hadn't had many friends growing up, and to avoid looking lonely, she would sit in the meadows surrounding her village, watching livestock feed on the grass, or wander aimlessly.

Her heart longed for the memories to turn into the present again, for them to not just be memories of a time she'd never experience again.

Kaz was stood at a pen filled with goats, already handing coins over to a young boy by the time Randvi had arrived at his side. Although Kaz had turned his nose up a little at the smell of the animals, Randvi didn't mind. She'd have traded the smell of Ketterdam for a smelly farm any day.

"Take your pick of the goats." The boy said, disappearing in an instant as he tended to another customer stood besides a horse.

"Don't get attached." Kaz said, casting a side glance towards her.

"Why? Are you planning on making the gods on offering after all?" She teased.

Randvi climbed the fence of the goat pen, jumping and landing on her feet with poor balance. Most would have picked the biggest, or fattest animal in the pen to get the most out of their money, and usually Randvi would have done the same. But it seemed unfair to take the best goat for a mere sacrifice or company across the fold, and deprive locals of the best stock.

Randvi spotted a small, black and white spotted goat lying down in one corner of the pen. Picking up some hay from the floor, she knelt down in front of it, holding the hay out in her hand for it to take. And it did.

"Care to explain what happened earlier." She heard Kaz's voice, but didn't dare meet his gaze. She'd been dreading this conversation. "I understand Grisha have strong opinions on Drüskelle, but I've never seen a reaction like that."

"Are you calling me Grisha?" Asked Randvi in offence.

"Grisha, magician, witch, whatever you want to call it, you seemed to both fear and love the Drüskelle."

Randvi scoffed at that, running her free hand over the fur of the goat. Why did Kaz care so much? It was non of his business. If he wasn't willing to tell every detail of his childhood and past, why should she share hers?

"They're the reason you left Fjerda, aren't they? Did they-"

"I think we should name the goat." Randvi interrupted, carefully picking up the goat and holding it in her arms. She slowly walked over to Kaz, waiting for him to take the goat from her so she could climb back over the pens fence. "Kaz," She began with a sigh "You are the last person I would tell my secrets to."

"At least we can both agree that secrets should remain secrets."

With that, Randvi climbed back over the fence, briefly smiling up at Kaz before running her hand back across the goats fur. It was strange seeing Kaz hold a small goat in his arms, and he looked less than thrilled at the idea.

"I think the goat adds to your mysterious allure." Teased Randvi with a quiet laugh, her eyes meeting his for a moment.

She had once heard Inej describe Kaz's eyes as dark, bitter coffee, but Randvi had always thought of them as more of a muddy colour, or like the dull glow of the sun behind a dark cloud. They were filled with mystery and wisdom, and in that moment Randvi wanted to know all of Kaz's secrets.

Finally tearing her eyes from his, her mind cleared, and her thoughts wandered back to the goat in his arms.

"We should name his something that starts with the same letter as goat, that's what writers tend to do. How about John the goat?" She suggested.

"That's a completely different letter."

"Julian the goat?" She continued, Kaz's words falling on deaf ears. "Johnathan? Josh? Jordie-"

"What did you just say?"

When Randvi looked up at Kaz, she noticed a strange expression, one she'd never seen before. It was a mix between fear, anger, and sadness, as someone had discovered a terrible secret. Randvi felt her heart stop for a moment. Had she said something wrong?

"We don't have to name him any of those if you don't like." Randvi stuttered, and the strange look on Kaz's face disappeared, returning to his usual sour one. "Jesper can name him. He's good at names."

For a moment, Kaz looked distant, as though he were lost in thought. His attention soon returned to her, and he shot her an almost irritated look. What had soured his mood so much?

"Find something to do until we cross the fold. Check Jesper isn't gambling away the coal money." Kaz snapped, making Randvi cower away.

"Alright, got it boss." She mumbled, turning on her heel to walk away. After his reaction to goat names, Randvi would happily be anywhere but next to Kaz. Perhaps he was just secretly upset at the idea of the goat being slaughtered, that was probably it. He was soft at heart.

"And no opium, or fortunes!" He shouted after her, but Randvi was already speeding her way back towards the markets.

*

Randvi could have easily spent hours just wandering the market, and even then she'd still have missed a stall. Oh what she'd give for just a couple more hours. Considering how much she hated the nation, something about the place made her feel alive, and carefree. Here, people passed each other with huge smiles, children played in the streets, and old women sat on chairs knitting and watching the world pass. It was hard to believe this was the city at the edge of the fold, but even with the backdrop of an infinite darkness, there seemed to be something greater in the city, something Randvi hadn't know for a long time.

Hope.

It were as though she were a girl again, retracing the steps of her past. Even though she had only been a girl when she had walked these streets hiding behind a thick cloak, not daring to look anyone in the eye, she had been filled with hope. Hope that once crossing the True Sea, she'd find peace. Hope that her brother would come and find her in the streets, and they'd travel together. Hope that maybe, just maybe, her mother was alive.

But Ketterdam had crushed that feeling. Each day that passed in the barrel a piece of hope withered away, and distanced itself from Randvi. Still, Randvi clung to it as though it were the air she breathed, and the food she ate. Hope was dangerous, but it was the one thing keeping her alive.

As Randvi walked passed an alley hidden under an arch in search of Jesper and more sweet treats, she caught sight of a man leaning against a stone wall, the inside of his jacket held open and exposed. He was looking from side to side as though he were expecting someone. Randvi knew that look anywhere. One thing that united the world seemed to be the way in which criminals acted. In Ketterdam they were less obvious, or perhaps more obvious - it was hard to tell in a city of criminals - but in Ravka they may as well have worn a sign branding them a criminal.

A wave of excitement and hunger passed through Randvi as she back tracked her steps, and began walking down the darkly lit alley towards the man. It were as though every other thought vanished from her, and suddenly only one thing seemed to matter.

Opium.

It had been an eternity since she'd had even the smallest amount of opium, and her body craved it more than it craved food and water, more than it craved life. It were part of her, and without it, she felt herself wither away. Besides, Randvi deserved some. She was about to face the fold.

Stopping opposite the man, Randvi cast him a smile, and nodded towards his jacket. "What are you selling?" She asked.

The alley was dark and poorly lit, the houses towering above them blocking out almost all of the sunlight. In the darkness, she could barely make out the mans features, but as he spoke, she noticed he was missing several teeth.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He shot back with a huff, and began glancing from side to side again as though expecting someone.

"Well, yes, that's why I asked-"

"Piss off." He snarled, taking Randvi by surprise.

He was possibly the worst dealer she had ever met. It was no wonder his clothes were so shabby. With that attitude he probably drove away all of his potential customers. Still, driven by an insatiable hunger, Randvi pressed on, ignoring the hostility.

"Have you got any opium?" She asked bluntly. Perhaps if she were to the point and obvious he'd finally sell her something. Anything.

"Depends who's asking."

"Me?"

"You're crap at this." The man groaned, finally meeting her gaze for the first time since Randvi had approached him. "Illegal trading has to be done in secret - you have to be discreet. This isn't Ketterdam."

Randvi watched with a grin as the man reached into his pocket, producing a small glass jar housing some sort of black grounds. It took every part of her not to snatch the jar from his hands and run off. Then, a sudden disappointment washed over her.

"Is that all you have?"

"The war has been disrupting supplies, so this is it. Take it or leave it, your choice." Said the dealer, throwing the jar up in one hand and catching it in the other.

It would barely be enough, but it was all there was. With a frustrated sigh, Randvi agreed, holding her hand out, but the dealer merely laughed.

"Not until I can see the money if your hand."

"Is that really what you think of me? That I'd just run off without paying? I've got to say, I'm somewhat offended by that."

The man didn't smile, instead he stared at her blankly with a look of boredom. A bit of humour wouldn't go amiss, she thought as she rolled her eyes.

There was one small problem, she didn't have any money, in fact she didn't have anything. Kaz had said no opium, and no fortune telling, but how was he to know? Besides, he'd also told Jesper no detours and Randvi would have bet her life he was gambling this very second. Perhaps for once Kaz would be the voice of reason. If the Drüskelle had captured a Grisha in the area not too long ago, who was to say they weren't waiting to snatch another. Randvi wasn't Grisha, but that didn't matter to them, they still branded her one. What if the man before her was a Drüskelle in disguise? She couldn't take any chances.

Or perhaps she could. Perhaps she should let him snatch her, and maybe with some luck she'd find herself reunited with her brother. If not, at least she'd find an end to her misery when they slaughtered her. At least she'd never have to kill Kaz.

Then, Randvi dug into her pocket, revealing the small wolf brooch she'd found from the inn. It could have been her brothers, or just another Drüskelle, but it had to be worth something. Randvi held it out for the dealer to take, watching anxiously as he held it up to the non existant sunlight.

"Well? Will that do?" The dealer only shook his head, flashing a smile that made Randvi want to punch him. "It's real gold." She lied, growing desperate for the small jar of opium.

"It's just painted steel, practically worthless. I wouldn't be able to flog this, not with all the Drüskelle in the area."

But Randvi only had one other thing she could trade - her brother's pocket watch. Pulling it from her pocket, she stared down at the polished silver, and opened it to stare at the initials carved inside. It was the last reminder of home she had. Giving it up meant giving up on her brother, giving up on her family, on finding home. It meant finally letting go, and she wasn't sure if she was ready for that. It had been years, but not a day had passed that Randvi hadn't thought of him.

"Would you take this?" She asked, not taking her eyes from the watch.

"Now that," The dealer grinned, holding his hand out. "would be worth something."

She couldn't give it up. She had spent nights alone in Ravka with only the watch as company. It was the only family she had. But, she'd give up everything she had in a heartbeat if it meant she could get her hands on some opium. He's never coming back, Randvi told herself, he's in the past. She though of her brother day and night, but perhaps he never thought on her. She wasn't giving up on her brother, she was finally realising that he had been the one to give up on her. He had been the one to abandon her.

Randvi hesitated one last time, before carefully dropping the pocket watch into the mans hands, and watching it disappear from sight. It was as simple as that - her past was finally in the past. With time she'd come to regret the decision, but for now, she could enjoy the bliss numbing of opium.