“And you’re sure these other Witches are a danger to Haven? That they created the earth tremor and sent these men to kidnap you?”
Senna let out a breath in exasperation. How could she explain something so foreign to these men? They’d never heard the music of the Four Sisters, felt her song meld with theirs until she wasn’t sure if she was a Witch at all, or simply a force of nature contained in a body of flesh and blood.
She pried her water-slicked hair away from her face. “Have you ever looked into a clear sky and knew a storm was coming? You weren’t sure how you knew, but you somehow felt it.”
Parknel picked up a cup that rolled towards him with the motion of the ship. “You’re saying we’re going to have to trust you. Trust you when the Discipline Heads wouldn’t. ”
She winced. “Yes.”
“Very well, Senna,” he said with a grunt. “I believed in you when few others did. Wouldn’t make much sense to stop now that you’ve finally begun to believe in yourself.”
She smiled to herself.
Parknel tossed the broken cup back onto the floor. “What’s my Heading?”
“Kaen’s farm.”
Parknel rubbed his jaw. “Not far from where we made landfall last time?”
She nodded.
He pulled a chart down. He cleared the debris off his desk with one swipe, then weighted down the corners and started muttering to himself. “No idea where we are.” He opened his compass. “Have to head west until the stars come out.” He tapped a symbol of rough water and a cloud. “The storm couldn’t have forced us to the Darkwell Squalls.”
“The what?” Senna asked in alarm.
The captain glanced up. “Hmm. Bah, nothing to worry about. We couldn’t have been pushed that far south.”
A knock sounded at the door. “Captain, we’ve a crack in the foremast.”
“You’ve always been rather hard on my ship,” Parknel grumbled.
“I’ll pay for the damages,” Senna said. Somehow.
“Yes. You will. I plan to be the fastest ship on the sea for the foreseeable future.” Hurrying out, Parknel called over his shoulder, “You’ll take my cabin again. Get some rest.”
Rest? Everyone was running around in a near panic, and he wanted her to rest. “How long until we reach Tarten?” she shouted after him.
“If we are where I think and we keep up this speed, perhaps four days. If the Sea Witch can handle the strain.” The last bit was nearly lost in the clamor.
The realization hit her that their journey had finally started. Now Senna could start planning in earnest. She and Reden leaned over the map on the table, studying Tarten. This was the second time she’d had to cross the Darkwell Sea to confront Espen.
Joshen pulled off his cloak and hung it over the back of a chair. “Senna, the Discipline Heads weren’t exaggerating. There’s a price on every Witch’s head. Especially yours. If we really have to find these foreign Witches, fine. But two landings in Tarten are an unnecessary risk.”
Anger prickled up Senna’s spine. She wondered if her mother and father had these same arguments. The safety of the world balanced against personal safety. She wondered if things had been different in Lilette’s day, when the world had reverenced Witches.
Reden frowned at Joshen. “We’re going to Espen because Senna knows where these foreign Witches are. We’re going to Kaen’s because she needs to be inland for the song to be the most effective, and Espen’s realm is too risky. Plus we can check on her friends.”
Senna was impressed with Reden’s knowledge of how Witch song worked.
Joshen pressed his palms into the back of the chair, clearly unhappy. “And then?”
Senna took a deep breath to calm herself. “We discover what we can and warn the Heads.”
Reden looked between the two and then headed for the door. “Well, now that’s settled, I’m going to see if I can round up some dry clothes. Then I have to test this brother Mistin brought along, see if he’ll be of any use to us.”
Senna shivered as the wind snaked through the closing door and cut through her damp clothes. She curled her arms around herself. Even her bones felt cold.
Joshen started rummaging around in her satchel. “You’re shivering. We need to get you out of those wet clothes.”
He found her spare shift and dress and turned around. She pulled her clothes off. They landed with a wet plop on the floor. Hauling on the dry ones, she marveled at how warm they felt over her chilled skin. She sighed and twisted her wet hair up, wrapping a cord around it to hold it off her neck.
Already, the salt was irritating her skin, but a bath would have to wait.