Witch Bewitched (New)

Chapter 10

It took about a week for Misa to get used to living as a boy. Training mostly consisted of running an officer's errand and rough exercises in the training grounds, though there were also classes that went over protocols, the law, and subtler social and research skills for investigations. Misa had never had to work so hard in her life. Living at the purgehouse meant she had to be careful at all times to make sure her true identity was never revealed. She tried to keep away from most of the other cadets, but by the end of the second week, she had become well acquainted with most of them and particularly close with one who seemed a little too interested in her.

She rarely saw the captain during her time at the purgehouse. After Ervan's death was ruled a suicide, he had busied himself for the briefing that he would have in Harthem. Torren was her only relief from the mayhem that surrounded her, but even he didn't go easy on her when treating her as if she was a cadet.

By the time the witch festival had come around, Misa was used to the life of a purgehouse officer. She couldn't help that her physique gave her a disadvantage against the other cadets, but she was able to win over the few higher ranks in charge of their training with hard work and without resorting to her subconscious spell. It helped that she was able to learn what each of them were like just by running their errands, and she was able to gain favours from even the prickliest man of the bunch.

Of course, that meant more work, but Misa enjoyed the time she had to herself—when she didn't have to worry about the band around her chest coming loose or her cap revealing her long hair.

"Misa, Misa!" Torren rushed through the doorway, startling Misa from her chore. She had been polishing the weapons in the armory, and though there hadn't been anyone else around, she was worried that Torren would blow her cover.

"Torren!" she hissed. "It's Mikim when I'm at the purgehouse!"

"It's all right. Everyone's busy today. The festival usually results in more entrants than usual."

Misa knew she couldn't stop Torren from being himself. Replacing the rifle back onto its shelf, she stood and dusted herself off. "Right. The festival. Is that why you so desperately came to me?"

Torren grinned. "You bet. Shall we go check it out?"

Misa shook her head. Torren reminded her too much of a child. "But aren't you supposed to stay at the purgehouse? As you said, it's busier than usual during this time."

"I have the day off. Royle said I could go to the festival with you."

Misa grimaced. The witch festival celebrated the execution of witches and often included traditional methods that were once thought to ward off evil. Knowing what she was now, Misa wasn't sure she'd enjoy the festival as much as she once did.

"I don't know, Torren." Misa reached for another rifle. "I haven't been to the festival since the first time I snuck away from home, but I already know what it's like. Nearly everyone in the city will be there. What if they find out I'm a," she lowered her voice, "I'm a witch?"

Torren grinned. "Relax, Misa. As ironic as it is, the witch festival will be the last place any witch gets caught. Everyone will be too busy enjoying their day off to care about actually catching a witch. It's all for fun."

Misa sighed. It was impossible to argue with Torren when he had made up his mind. She stuck a cleaning stick down the barrel of the weapon.

"Fine," she relented. "I'll go. I suppose I do kind of miss it."

"That's the spirit!" Torren clapped. "Meet me at my office when you're finished, then."

Without letting Misa reply, he slipped away from the armory, whistling an old tune on his way out. Misa let a small chuckle escape her lips. Even though everything had changed the moment she found out about her true identity, Torren had remained the one consistent thing in her life. Without him, she would never have adjusted as well as she did.

Humming the tune Torren stuck in her head, Misa continued to wipe down the rifle. She supposed one night of fun wouldn't hurt at all.

* * * *

Loud music, dancers dressed in hideous masks, and the scent of food filled the streets of Giligha. Misa felt a sleeping giant stir from within her. Excitement bubbled in her chest. She struggled to keep a straight face and act as if the festival was nothing new to her.

Despite what she had told Torren, Misa had always wanted to return to experience the festival. Her first time attending it had left a mark in her that manifested into her rebellious fight against her parents. After learning she was a witch, Misa had thought the festival would crush her spirits, but the old curious excitement she had thought she left behind in her childhood returned in full force when she saw the bright, lively streets.

There were more people than Misa had anticipated but weaving through the crowd was relatively easy when she wore the purgehouse uniform. She tried to ignore the scornful looks more than a few people gave her as they went out of their way to avoid her and Torren. She understood why they didn't trust the officers, but it irked her how they treated Torren like he was a corrupted officer willing to take bribes from criminals.

Torren seemed to sense her unease. He broke into a grin. "Are you finding the crowd a bit daunting, Mikim?"

Misa forced a smile. "Not really. I enjoy it. But..." It turned into a grimace as a mother forcefully pulled her child behind her at the sight of the two. "They don't really seem to like us very much. I'm beginning to think it was a mistake for you to join the purgehouse. I can't stand thinking about them throwing curses at you and looking down at you for taking a job that exists to protect them. It's just not fair."

Torren laughed. "Ah, is that what's bothering you? You're too sensitive. In this line of work, getting dirty looks is the least of your problems. After a while, you don't even realise you're getting them!"

"Still..." Misa watched the people's reactions from the corner of her eye. A few boys were waving talismans at the two and chanting words used to ward off evil. She felt a pang of anger and snapped her head in their direction. Shrieking with laughter, the boys ran off.

Torren put a hand on her shoulder. "You need to learn to ignore them. If you let every taunt and insult get to you, you'll never survive. But, I guess it would be better if we stopped grabbing their attention with our Five Buttons. Let's find a change of clothes, shall we?"

Misa nodded. "That would be nice."

They found a stall selling traditional garments at the corner of an intersection. It buzzed with customers, and it seemed only one lady was manning the shop. She kept busy, answering her customers' questions and bringing out a variety of clothes to showcase.

"Pick anything you'd like," Torren said. "I'll buy it for you as a little gift."

Misa laughed. "You don't have to. I have some of my own loncs that I made selling my paintings." She sobered. Painting reminded her of home. Home reminded her of her father, and her father reminded her of what she was. Her paintings had been sold along with Maran's furniture at his workshop. Would her customers burn her work when they found out the artist was a witch?

"I insist. Think of this as a little welcome gift, even if it's a little late."

Misa knew Torren would continue to push until he had his way, so she relented. She browsed the shop, looking at the men's garments. She couldn't decide what she wanted. With a sigh, she turned her eyes to the dresses hanging from the ceiling. They were beautiful, brightly coloured and flowing like pink, blue, purple, and yellow rivers.

"Lookin' to buy one for a sally, Officer?"

Misa jumped at the woman's voice. She took a moment to register the words. Her face flushed. She had momentarily forgotten she was supposed to be a man while admiring the dresses. "Erm, yes. Yes, I am."

"What you lookin' for? Witch? Virgin? Bell dancer?"

Misa turned her attention back to the dresses. "I think I'll pass."

"Trouble with your lady?"

Misa's cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. "You could say that. I'll settle for myself." She turned back to examine the men's clothing. She blindly chose the smallest costume on the hanger—baggy, blue trousers that tightened at her ankles, a vest that matched, and a white long-sleeved tunic to wear underneath.

She dropped the clothes on the counter and waited for Torren to make his choice. He emerged with two sets of clothes. Her jaw dropped when she saw one set was a dress she had been admiring. An orange flower bloomed from the skirt, peeking at her with tantalising beauty.

"That'll be four thousand loncs." The stall lady said.

Torren handed her four strings of large coins.

"Pleasure doing business with you. Sifhi Kha."

Misa clenched her teeth and nodded as Torren waved with a smile. He gathered their purchase into a bag and walked towards a tavern.

Sifhi Kha, Misa thought. There was a pang in her chest. The words had been derived from a protection spell traditionally used to keep witches away. She felt strangely guilty, but she couldn't figure out why. Perhaps it was because the greeting hadn't done anything to keep her from mingling with "normal" humans.

"Let's see if we can get a room to change in peace," Torren said.

Misa frowned. "Torren, why did you buy a lady's dress?"

"For you." He winked. "I know deep down that you enjoy dressing up. Besides, I don't think it's fair to keep someone as pretty as you hidden in men's garments."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." Misa decided to ignore Torren's comment about her beauty. He had always liked to tease girls with flowery words, and Misa had learned long ago how to not fall for his charm. "I'm supposed to be a man. If anyone finds out about this, everything we planned will have been for nothing."

"Relax." Torren opened the door to the tavern. "No one will know, and this way, we can do whatever we want."

A barrage of laughter hammered down in Misa's eardrums. She stayed close to Torren as they weaved through the tables. Torren knocked on the counter to get the tavernkeeper's attention.

"Would you mind if we use a room to change out of our uniforms?" he asked.

The tavernkeeper narrowed his eyes in suspicion, the wrinkles on his forehead creasing.

"We'll pay you, of course," Torren added.

"Of course," the tavernkeeper repeated. He held out his hand and accepted the two hundred loncs Torren dropped. He sniffed then led them up the stairs and to an empty room. "Take no more than five minutes. Don't want the law hanging around my business."

"No worries! We'll be done and out before you even know it!"

Letting out a derisive snort, the man opened the door and let them in. He reminded them once more to not take any longer than five minutes, then left them alone.

"Here, change into these." Torren shoved the dress into Misa's arms.

"Torren, this is a bad idea." Misa reached for the clothes she had chosen, but Torren kept them out of her reach.

"Trust me on this one, Misa. I want you to enjoy the festival. I know how uncomfortable you've been for the past few weeks acting like a man. You miss being a woman."

Misa didn't want to admit he was right. Shaking her head, she dropped her hands to her side. "Fine. But promise you won't peek."

"I would never!" Torren laughed. "Now hurry up. We don't have much time."

Rolling her eyes, Misa began to strip her stiff uniform. She loosened the linen flattening her chest and felt like she could breathe again. Not trusting Torren to keep his word for long, Misa pulled the dress over her. The silky garment flowed down to her feet, and Misa couldn't help but give a little twirl.

She shrugged on a matching vest and turned around to see that Torren had finished dressing up. His clothes were similar to the ones she had initially chosen only in green. He examined her, stroking his chin in thought.

"How is it?" Misa asked.

Torren nodded. "It's not bad. Not bad at all. But, what are you going to do with your hair?"

Misa released it from her pinned-up braids, letting it flow to her back.

"That works," Torren said. He gathered the uniforms and stuffed them into the bag. "Now, let's have some fun!"