“And in the meanwhile, we need to move, we got a runner from Bors offering to buy your healing for some of his men, we’ve been given an oath of payment by Ragvald and Hakon but Bors has the largest faction in Losthope so we should be able to get a whole lot of silver out of him…” Sigurn took Erika by the shoulder and gently steered her away and back into the shanty towns streets again with Kara, Gunhilda and Reidar walking in a triangle around her, Erika might have complained about being such a central focus but this wasn't the time for false modesty or real shyness there were twilight cultists lurking around for a start but primarily there were understandably desperate men and women who were either poisoned or had those they cared for poisoned and they would do whatever they could to get a Vitki’s magic to heal them.
Erika didn’t in anyway object to only healing for payment in fact quite the opposite, rules on requiring payment had been laid down by Helsdottir herself and as such only those bound by oath and allegiance to a Vitki were to be healed for free, a vitki was discouraged from doing free healing anyone who kept causing trouble after social pressure failed was given a one way ticket to the scholomance the home of the vitki where they could heal for free all they wanted, but only other vitki. Nobody wanted to go back to the days of jarl oaths and being blamed for bad weather and curses, so Vitki ensured they were treated respectfully, even fearfully, with the vitki hierarchy acting as a threat in itself, mess with the vitki as a powerful enough entity (like a dragon or an empire) and you would force Helsdottir, the strongest being in the nine realms, to get off her throne in the heart of the Scholomance and come to rain destruction and woe.
All of this was an explanation for the instinctive fear that the powerful felt around viktki, especially when they needed them, the powerful weren’t used to people outside of their power which was probably why Bors looked like he’d been punched in the mouth as she sputtered and mumbled his way through thanking Erika for her healing.
It wasn't proper healing and she hadn't done much but she wasn't going to say that, she’d been led into the camp that Bors lead, like his own personal fiefdom, space being made for her and her escorts in the flood of sobbing children and grieving widows. Unlike the jarls or the merchants the nomads apparently held their injured in a sort of bowl shaped tent, no roof but tall walls, Erika assumed that was a religious thing but she didn’t bother to ask about it, just peeled some people mopped up the blood and put them all back together, luckily for everyone one of the sub-galdr within the flesh shaping galdr itself nullifies all pain it would otherwise cause so the wounded nomads had been oddly cheerful and even chatty even as vitki magic made flesh and skin fly and spin.
Luckily there didn’t seem to be many people waiting in the nomad’s camp, Erika wasn't sure if the wounded she wasn't going to heal were being kept elsewhere or if they had already died… or if their poison needle idea was correct maybe the twilight cultist just hadn't managed to get many of the nomads? They did keep the most to themselves of any of the groups what with being an actual culture and several families rather than groups of convenience and business like the other three factions.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“Here you go your Ladyship… is that the correct title?”
“Close enough.” Sigurn nodded taking the bag from Bors hands weighing it in one hand for a moment then passing it to Erika who opened the leather flap and had to force herself not to squeal, this combined with her loot silver from the deserted city beast might be enough to buy the components she needed all on their own!
“I am very grateful to your aid of my family Lady Vitki.” Bors said, his previously fluent command of the language had deserted him it seemed, either because of nerves or because he was trying to sound like a jarl and didn’t quite understand the vocabulary that they used.
“You paid for it man, make sure they rest and if they don’t then don’t bother calling me back to save them again, not unless you're happy to pay double.” As a vitki Erika was technically part of the jarl caste so her mother had taught her all the fancy speaking ways but as one could probably tell Erika didn’t care for them much.
“Uh yes ma’am, I will be careful and ensure my family rests.”
Erika was interested to note that in the other two cases Sigurn had taken debt oaths but the nomads apparently had actual silver to spend, maybe it was because they were migrating rather than just travelling? Erika was surprised Bors had brought it personally although Shania wasn't surprised that that he seemed interested in subtly sounding out how much it would cost to poach her from the Silvermane expedition, not that he could, firstly Erika prided herself on her loyalty and secondly nothing he could pay her was worth a silver rank Chosen acting as her bodyguard, especially not with twilight cultists about.
“Okay we’re done, how is your Well…” Sigurn stopped mid-sentence and starred over Erikas shoulder, she didn’t look worried, she looked awed? No, that was two much, surprised? Not quite, the best comparison Erika could think of was the face her sister had made when she was given a really fancy new toy back when they were kids.
“Ah, Lady Vitki and Sigurn, most excellent to meet thee.”
Erika recognised that wheedling tone but she wasn't sure about the voice, a chuffing falsetto who… ah Hakon. Erika wasn't sure why he was here though, she’d already healed his people in the first wave, when she was healing the refugees and the merchants.
Finishing up, wiping her hands off and stretching till her back clicked Erika turned around and saw Hakon for the second time, he was barely recognisable, his skin a clammy white and his hair torn out at the temples and falling from his hands as he sidled towards her.
Erika’s immediate reaction was to hurl a bolt of acid, her second reaction was shock at just how fast Sigurn could move, before she could even finish drawing on her well Sigurn had gently pushed her arm downwards and away whilst lifting Hakon by the shirt with her other hand.
“You’re scaring my cute little vitki Hakon.”