“Reden,” Joshen called before they’d gone a dozen steps. “Don’t leave her side.”
Reden didn’t bother answering. He let out a long breath, then scanned the docks and started asking around. It wasn’t long before they learned the Sea Witch hadn’t been at port for weeks, but was due back soon.
“You’ll have to sing them back,” Reden said.
Senna moved to the end of a quiet pier and sang softly for the wind to bring the ship in quickly. In less than an hour, she saw the black ship with the gold letters “Sea Witch” carved into the side.
Captain Parknel’s ruddy beard gave him away first. He brought the ship in perfectly. Sailors scrambled about, tying off the lines. Within moments, the gangplank was lowered. Merchants from Corrieth came to retrieve their cargo.
Parknel grinned as Senna climbed aboard. He snatched her in a breath-stealing hug. “You brought us back thrice as fast as we left—and that’s usually against a contrary wind. You ever want a place aboard my vessel, you have it.”
Despite everything that had happened over the past few days, Senna broke out in a smile. Asking for nothing in return, Parknel had transported her to Tarten. He had trusted her, fought for her, and believed in her. Besides Joshen and Reden, he was one of the few people she’d call a true friend.
As soon as he set Senna down, she said, “Captain, we need passage.”
He shifted his pipe to the other side of his mouth. “Well, I figured you wouldn’t summon us back for a social call.” He sobered as he studied Corrieth. “I heard it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Wind rose up and turned the water away from the city. That the Witches doing?”
Senna nodded.
Though Haven wasn’t visible from Corrieth, she couldn’t help but glance nervously in its direction. “I’ll pay for any cargo lost.”
He grinned. “You promise to sing a wind to carry us to Tressalay and back for a season, I’ll count us even. Where to?”
She swallowed the bile rising in her throat. “Tarten.”
Parknel’s face fell. “Again?”
But she was no longer listening to him. She could hear music again, just like the night before. Drawn irresistibly to the sound, she found herself leaning over the railing. Behind her, she was vaguely aware of Reden and Parknel working out the logistics of the trip.
The wind’s song was growing steadily louder, turning from light and soft to hard and dark. The pace pounded against her skin. She could almost taste the salt spray and feel the coming waves that would batter the ship. “They know I’m gone.”
The conversation behind her went on oblivious to the mounting danger. Senna whirled around. “They’re calling in a storm, trying to stop us. We must go. Now!”
Parknel started barking out orders. Reden ran to the other side of the ship and shot a glance down the pier. “Where’s Joshen?”
“Send someone for him,” she shouted.
Men started rushing around the ship, preparing to leave. At the bow, Senna closed her eyes and measured the song’s strength against her own. An hour, maybe less, and the storm would swallow up the coast in a fit of rage.
She searched herself for the unimaginable power she’d held mere hours before. But it was gone. Her own songs could buy them a little time, but as strong as she was, she was still no match for a full Witch choir.
She ran to the stern and faced Haven, countering songs to bring in the storms with songs of calm. Her songs were soft and gentle—songs of warm spring days, sunshine, calm seas. The songs coming against her were anything but. They were dark, full of mystery and danger. The two songs mixed into a cacophony of noise—a sound she knew only she heard. Boiling clouds darkened the sky.
Controlling the winds was like trying to tame a half-wild colt. It wanted to streak across the sky, buck playfully with the clouds. Senna sang even more gently, almost a lullaby. The storm stilled, listening. For a moment, the clouds broke apart and a shaft of sunlight broke through.
But then the Witches’ Channeler let free another song. Control of the winds turned from Senna. Clouds devoured the sunlight. Thunder boomed. A gust of wind whipped her hair. The storm was too far gone to be called back now.
She stripped her hair from her face and searched the ship. Had Joshen made it back? Had Mistin? There wasn’t time to wait for them. “Captain Parknel, we leave now!”
He shook his head. “We can’t risk the open seas.”
“I can keep us safe!” Senna cried. If they didn’t beat the storm, she would be trapped in Corrieth. The Heads would come for them.
Parknel studied her, obviously debating. Someone shouted that Joshen had been sighted. The captain growled low in his throat. “All right. But we go now.”