Witch Song (Witch Song #1)

Chapter 9

9. SIGN OF THE WITCHES

Senna gaped at the size of Corrieth's walls looming over her. She knew they were meant to keep those inside safe, but it felt more like a cage.

"It's easily ten times the size of Perchance," Joshen said.

Senna gulped and cast a worried glance at Bruke. "What do you say, Bruke?"

His tail twitched anxiously back and forth, but he lowered his head and moved cautiously forward. That was enough for Senna.

She was relieved when the gate's guards barely looked up as they rode by. Within moments of crossing into the city, foreign spices assaulted her. Her mouth watered at the thought of a hot meal.

Joshen smacked his tongue, his eyes forming a question.

With a half-smile, Senna dismounted and moved toward the smell. It didn't take them long to find the marketplace. As they entered from a side street, she froze in amazement. Foreigners. Lots of them. The subdued hues of her people's clothing seemed bland compared to the colors and fabrics she thought only possible in flowers.

And the people! Senna hadn't known humans came in such a wide range of colors and adornments. People with charcoal skin that contrasted with the whites of their eyes and teeth. Golden skin with slanted eyes and thick black hair. More people with frightening blue marks on their flesh, their heads shorn. Others with jewels in their noses, glinting rings in their ears and blankets draped over their bodies like robes instead of trousers and shirts.

Senna squirmed. People pressed in on her from all sides and the smell of food mixed sickeningly with the odor of animal feces and unwashed bodies. From all directions, sounds and colors inundated her remaining senses.

She found herself clinging to Joshen's side like a frightened toddler. He bought the three of them a small feast. Either Joshen noticed her discomfort, or he was feeling some of it himself, for he led her away from the market and toward the ocean. They managed to find a quiet spot on one of the piers, not far from a small group of sailors who sat idly next to a boarding plank.

She'd forgotten how hot food warmed hands. How it steamed when exposed to cold air. How it filled her stomach with warmth and pleasure instead of simply filling her. She devoured three steaming, stuffed rolls before starting on the honeycakes. She'd become so engrossed in her meal that Joshen's solid elbow to her ribs startled her. Her mouth still open in anticipation of her next bite, she looked at him.

He tipped his head toward the sailors.

She leaned around him to get a better look at the men, but Joshen elbowed her again. "Don't look," he whispered. "Just listen."

Taking a nibble of her honeycake, she heard one of the sailors say, "No, haven't seen any of them for months now. And I tire of this damnable fog."

Senna exchanged a glance with Joshen and leaned around to get a better look at the sailors. A dark-skinned man answered, "Perhaps they've business somewhere else, Cap'n Parknel."

"Their headquarters are 'round here somewheres," said a dark-skinned man with crooked teeth. "They'll be 'round to fix things 'fore long."

The first man, Captain Parknel, grumbled. "Mark me. The ocean feels it first. This fog might keep us all shore-bound, but it won't end there. Storms of the kind to bury a ship with a single wave'll be next."

"I hear of bad droughts inland, too," said the bald sailor.

Captain Parknel took a swig of something from a tin. "If those Witches don't come back, won't be haulin' merchandise on the waters no more."