Witch Fall(61)

“You shouldn’t listen to his advice ever again.” Lilette laughed so hard she snorted. Jolin finally gave in, and soon both were laughing so hard Lilette’s side felt like it might split open. But she needed this. Because if she didn’t laugh, she really might go mad with grief.

For the next three days, she didn’t have time to dwell on her sadness about Sash. Jolin and Nassa stuffed her head full of songs, singing lessons, and plant lessons. Lilette practiced singing until her throat hurt and her voice sounded scratchy and rough.

Every once in a while, something seemed to tighten within her, catching the song and pooling it inside. At those times, her voice grew sweeter, stronger. She caught other witches watching her, their faces filled with awe or jealousy or both.

On their sixth day at sea, Lilette was singing in the hold with Nassa. She didn’t know her voice could reach so high, that she could hold a note for so long.

Nassa nodded encouragingly, a hungry look in her eyes. “Yes, very good. But you still need to work on pulling from deep in your belly—that’s where your power comes from. That’s how you project your voice.” Nassa settled herself deeper in her hammock. “Now try again.”

Lilette filled her lungs and sat up straight, her shoulders thrown back and her mind sharp. She started singing. The sounds she made were nonsense—they weren’t important. It was the interplay of the notes, the rise and fall of the cadence, the power she gave up or withheld. The world perked up around her, the elements slowed like a marketful of people stopping a million different tasks at the same time to turn toward her.

“Good.” Nassa fanned her own sunburned skin. “You can feel the elements, can’t you? You can feel them waiting for your commands.”

Lilette didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She was too enraptured by the power dancing from her mouth. All she had to do was change the nonsense into the Creators’ language and the elements would respond—they were eager for it. As eager as she was.

Sweat ran down her back, soaking into the already-damp material at her waist. Though the day was tripping toward evening, the midday heat had baked into the hold, filling her nostrils with the smell of resin and sour sweat.

An idea formed in Lilette’s mind. Her mouth formed the words, releasing them like dancers leaping from her tongue. Nassa’s expression changed to worry, but Lilette ignored her. The wind teased down through the hatch, wrapping around her body and wicking away her sweat. The other people in the hold sighed in relief. Lilette smiled and concentrated on the joy of connecting with the elements.

“You did it again.”

Lilette shook herself out of her reverie to find Nassa bolt upright, watching her. “You controlled the elements with a single song, and with such precision.”

The rapture fled Lilette. “I’m sorry.”

Nassa stared at her. “I think, Lilette, that you may be the most powerful witch ever born.”

Lilette didn’t try to protest. How could she when she could still feel the buzz of power inside her? Thankfully, a flurry of activity above decks distracted Nassa.

Han poked his head down below the hold, his eyes finding Lilette’s. “They’ve spotted the bay.”

She untangled herself from her hammock and tried to straighten the wrinkles out of her cotton tunic and trousers. She’d been wearing them constantly for six days and finally decided they were beyond helping. She debated slipping the armor back on, but it was so hot, and it wasn’t as if she was going into a battle.

Foot tapping, Lilette waited her turn to climb the ladder. Luckily, she was taller than most of the women, so she could see the mountains—more like very large hills—that dotted the land. One of these mountains was surrounded by circular, gray stone ramparts, with towers evenly spaced along it.

Instead of a city inside, there were trees—huge trees. Her mind kept trying to compensate for their size by insisting the ship was closer to shore than it was, which threw off her sense of distance and made her head hurt.

They turned into the bay. Hundreds of boats were docked in the wharves, but they were so tiny. Then Lilette saw the first person on shore and suddenly everything clicked into place. The trees were mountains unto themselves.

She craned her head back and still couldn’t see the tops. The branches reached so high into the sky they mingled with the clouds. Light reflected off mirrors hanging from the tree trunks. But then a woman leaned out of a tree to call to someone below.

Those weren’t mirrors. They were windows. And the trees weren’t just trees. They were houses. Around some of the windows, balconies had grown of twisted branches. Some of those balconies were connected by elegant bridges, which people crossed, going from one tree to another. How had Lilette forgotten this?