Beyond the inky sea, buildings gleamed like pearls in the moonlight, with candles shining in their windows. The ship headed for a wide river.
Their speed lagged against the river’s drag. Her hand on the casing, Senna almost felt the ship straining to overcome the pull of the water. The Witches’ song nudged them steadily forward. They slowed before breaking past the lips of the river and into its mouth.
Senna studied the hushed city. Beams of wood poked through the roofs. The walls seemed to be made of some kind of plaster. Late as it was, she still caught sight of people, all wearing flowing tunics and sandals.
She peered down at the river and was shocked to see Pogg swimming through the water, a fish in his mouth. A cry started from her mouth, but died when she saw another Pogg. And another. She sat back on her heels.
Pogg wasn’t the last Mettlemot. He was just lost from the rest of his kind. Senna closed her eyes as the depth and breadth of the Witches’ mistakes overwhelmed her. “I’m sorry, Pogg,” she mouthed.
She risked looking back out the window. Beyond the city were groves of dark, small-leaved trees. Across the hills, a flock of sheep had bedded down for the night. They looked like a cloud that had lost the sky. Senna watched the landscape change, grow even more barren and windswept. At some point she fell back asleep.
Mistin’s hand on her arm woke her. “They’ll be coming for us soon.”
Senna looked outside again. It was early morning, so early the sun hadn’t even awakened yet. The world was grainy and gray, that fuzzy time that lacked clear details. They’d come to another city; their ship was docked at one of the wharves.
Senna combed her tangled hair the best she could with her fingers. She smoothed the wrinkles from her dress and slipped on her boots. She was ready when a group of four Guardians opened the door, Cord among them. Beyond them, Krissin and the other Heads were waiting for the gangplank to be lowered.
Cord smiled, obviously trying to soften the fact that Senna was under guard. “Time to go.”
Mistin leaned over. “None of our sea-going ships can go farther than Ilyss. We’ll board smaller vessels.”
Cord stepped aside, clearly expecting Senna to come without a fight. By the Creators, she wanted to prove him wrong. But four Guardians and Mistin would silence her the moment the song left her lips “I don’t trust you.” She cut a glance at Mistin. “Or you.”
Cord stepped closer, his proximity making Senna squirm on the inside. “When I was hidden and half dead of pain, I overheard them sometimes—your Haven Witches. They accused you of lying, of seeking attention. Even Joshen tried to stop you from leaving. So you tell me Senna, who’s the better friend?”
How dare he say anything against Joshen! She slapped Cord, making her hand sting. The other Guardians stepped closer.
“He deserved that,” Mistin said quickly.
Rubbing his cheek, Cord motioned for the other Guardians to relax. “Maybe I did.”
Krissin glanced back at them. She pulled a vial of purple liquid from her seed belt and held it up for Senna to see. “I will use it if I must.”
Senna suddenly felt cold all over, though the predawn air was warm. Yarves would make her mind as malleable as mush. She stepped away from Cord, her hands fisted at her sides until her scar ached fiercely.
Krissin shoved the vial back into her seed belt and strode down the gangplank, her sandaled feet slapping the wood much differently than the click of Senna’s boots. Hating her every step, Senna followed. Dark-clad Calden Guardians flanked her on every side and steered her towards the pier.
They stepped into a smaller boat that was intricately carved from fine wood. Senna ran her hands over the inside, searching for the seams where one board met another. With a start, she realized there were none. The entire boat must be sung into shape from a single tree by Witch song.
Stunned, she withdrew her hand. She’d never heard of a song to shape a boat. Never fathomed it. Could it be possible the Calden Witches were even more knowledgeable than the Haven Witches? That they were somehow stronger?
If so, what did they want with her? Why go to all this trouble for one Witch? Krissin was right that the power of Senna’s song surged sometimes, but not strong enough to stop these Witches.
The Guardians untied their boat and settled back. The Witches around Senna sang again, and a wind so perfect and precise it only affected their sails drove them forward until they seemed to bounce across the river like a skipping stone.
The first light of day brought men to the river. They paid no attention to the Witches or their songs as they cast nets over the sides of their small boats again and again. Intricate irrigation systems fed the groves and fields of viny plants. Senna watched them in wonder.