Chapter 8
Murder For One
CalliyaBack to the Present
Murder annoyed the piss out of me. Bodies were a pain to clean up, and the binding rites took forever, especially with a wounded shoulder. But injury or self-defense was no excuse for skipping them, even for a smetoriya like me. Always a shaman first, I reminded myself.
It didn’t make me feel any better.
Grumbling, I poured the last of my water over the dead oshi and continued the ceremony. Holding the rakma, I plugged into the aisa. “May you be carried on the breath of the wind.” I bent down close to the cat’s head and blew into its nostrils. Its chest gently rose and fell once before returning to stillness.
Then I switched to drala. “May you nourish the roots of the wood of the world.” The trees around us were silent, reverent. I
