Witch Born(120)

The sound of shouts made Senna peer down to the courtyard. There was a bit of a struggle, but she was too far away to see what was going on. Still, she trusted the Guardians to deal with it. “When the world begins to trust us, they’ll pay for our services. Until then, no one is to be turned away. They pay with coin if they can. If they cannot, they pay with their labor. City streets need cleaned. Refuse needs to be hauled out and buried. Gardens need to be kept.”

The commotion moved beyond her sight. She furrowed her brow, wondering what was going on. She turned to see Prenny staring hard at her. “Yes?”

Prenny glanced quickly at Coyel before meeting Senna’s gaze. “Well, Composer Brusenna, things have been going smoothly, but…”

Senna sighed. “But?” When Prenny didn’t answer, Senna leaned back into her chair and rubbed her aching hip. “Prenny, I think I liked you better when you thought I was some upstart Sprout.”

Prenny snorted. “All right then. Some Witches aren’t happy about us taking on Wastrels. They think it’s beneath us.”

Senna dropped her head so they wouldn’t see the rage burning up her face. “I’ll not have them called Wastrels. They can still connect to the Four Sisters, even if they cannot control them. That makes them Witches. Desni couldn’t recognize a note, yet her innate sense of plants and potions and her skill as a healer rivaled anything a Witch with a strong song could claim. If Drenelle cannot see the worth in that, she doesn’t deserve her position as an instructor at the school.”

Senna still felt guilty for falsely accusing the Head of treachery, and later for practically ordering her to stand down as Head of Earth. Just as she felt guilty for sentencing Grendi to be hanged and Ellesh to remain imprisoned on Caldash for the remainder of her days.

Senna’s thoughts turned to Desni. Under torture, the old woman had revealed the secret behind Senna’s pendant, allowing Grendi to locate her. But Senna couldn’t find anger for the old woman in her heart. She’d made too many of her own blunders to blame Desni for the secrets she revealed in her darkest hours. Instead, Senna felt sorry for her. The task of teaching Witchlings might be just what the old woman needed to pull her out of her grief.

Coyel spoke softly. “You know some of the lower-level girls will be ridiculed.”

Senna traced the grain of her chair’s wooden arms. “It will not be tolerated. Every woman deserves the right to prove herself, to live up to the fullness of her potential. No one has the right to deny them.” She turned to face the Heads. “Bring Desni in. And find others like her. The students need examples of teachers who are strong in other ways, especially those from the Caldash Orders.”

Prenny crossed her arms over her chest, a calculating look in her eyes. “I’ll make sure it’s done.”

“See that you do,” Senna said with a smile to soften the command. Prenny might be ornerier than a gut-shot bear, but Senna was starting to like her.

The oppressive silence was suddenly interrupted by a faraway echo of music. More than anything, Senna ached for the lost songs. She tipped her ear toward the sound, listening. With a sigh, she motioned for one of them to pull the bell.

Her mother came up a moment later.

“A hurricane is building off the coast of Menette,” Senna said. “Assemble the Witches on duty.”

Sacra nodded. Within moments, Witch song drifted from the inner courtyard. Senna listened absently. “If that is all?”

The Heads made their goodbyes, but not Reden.

“What of Pogg?” she asked.

Reden made a sound low in his throat. “He’s not adjusting well to Caldash.”

She took a deep breath. Pogg had spent so much time trying to be a human, he didn’t know how to be a Mettlemot. “Does he still want to come here?”

“Yes.”

“I suppose we’d better let him, then.” Senna traced the scars on her palm. “Have you found Kaen and Ciara?”

“I received a missive this morning. They’re being brought here, and they still have your horses. Kaen said having the animals saved their lives when they fled.”

“Joshen will be glad.”

Reden stood beside her for a long time, his hand on the pistols strapped to his waist. He had many more scars than before. And he seemed infinitely older and quieter, but his heart was still strong and loyal as ever.

Knowing what he wanted, she sighed. “I can’t, Reden.” She forced herself to face him. “I can’t give up hope that Joshen will find me. Not yet.”

She saw the phantoms of remembered agony play across Reden’s face. He and Joshen had been tortured nearly to death. “When our boat sank, I came up right on top of a barrel. I saw Mistin and Joshen. They were both in trouble. I had to make a choice.” His voice caught. “I chose Mistin.” He’d never told her this before. “When I turned back, Joshen was gone. Senna, he drowned.”