Page 100 of The Sea Witch
“The safety of my crew and ship come first.”
They had reached the brig. Alys grabbed the key from the hookand unlocked the bars. With a jerk of her head, she motioned for him to step inside. He backed in, his gaze never leaving hers, his eyes cutting. She ignored the frost between them as she closed the door to the cage and locked it.
Lowly, he asked, “Is that all you’re keeping safe?”
She stepped away. “You’re in this cage, but in truth, I’m setting you free.”
“This doesn’t look like freedom.” He gripped the bars.
“Locked in here, you’re free from having to make a choice. Them, or me.”
Without another word, she walked from the brig, all the time fighting the need to look back.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Alys climbed down the side of theSea Witchand slipped into the water. With its glamour, theSea Witchnow appeared to be a damaged merchant ship, limping as it approached theAjaxof His Majesty’s Royal Navy. The naval ship seemed to believe that a listing merchantman couldn’t harm them, so theAjaxallowed theSea Witchto come closer.
No one aboard the naval vessel would anticipate or notice a lone figure swimming toward them. All the attention was fixed on the ship in distress, so Alys made her way without anyone raising an alarm or, worse, trying to pull her onto the ship.
She hadn’t the ability to swimandmaintain a glamour. None of her crew could cast a spell over her appearance, busy as they were maintaining theSea Witch’s disguise. So, it was without concealment that she made her way toward theAjax. Meanwhile, theSea Witchmaintained its own glamour, resembling an impaired ship requiring help, and sailing slowly toward theAjax. No hostile actions could be used by the witches aboard. All their focus had to be on keeping the glamour going. Only when the illusion was dropped could they begin to fight. It was a precarious balance to get close enough to theAjaxfor the right position, while being unable to use their best method of attack and defense.
Alys finally reached the naval ship. The frigate towered above her, creaking and groaning as it rode the waves.
With the British crew distracted by the approach of the disguisedSea Witch, she began to clamber up the side. Knives were tucked into her belt, and her sword hung from a baldric as she pulled herself up, hand over hand. A year ago, she’d done almost the same thing in the frigid waters of Cape Ann. But now she climbed theAjaxwith far more strength and confidence than she’d had back then.
She edged past cannons bristling from their gunports and heard the voices of the men on the gun deck.
At last, she reached a porthole wide enough to wriggle through. She tumbled into a storage hold, stacked with barrels and crates. Climbing to her feet, she peered out the door. A few seamen made their way along the passageway, and she ducked back into the hold, waiting for them to pass.
“Don’t know why we’re bothering with that merchantman,” one of the sailors grumbled as he passed. “They can sail. No need for us.”
“Captain Isley never turns down a chance to make himself look like a hero,” another answered.
“Why dragusinto it?”
The voices faded as they walked away. When they were gone, Alys checked to ensure no one else was in the passageway. It was clear, so she darted out.
From a pouch hanging on her belt, she pulled a sealed vial containing a sprig of herbs. Olachi had given them to her that morning, a collection of ordinary things taken directly from cook Josephine’s pantry as well as from the Fatima’s supply of herbs used for healing. Thyme, lemon balm, feverfew, barberry. Typical as these plants were, Olachi had insisted that it was this specific combination that created a desired effect. Yet they needed a catalyst.
Alys uncorked the vial. She snapped her fingers. A tiny flameappeared on the tip of her index finger, and she touched the fire to the herbs within the vial. They immediately started smoldering. A thin wisp of sharp vegetal smoke curled up from the glass.
Concentrating on the smoke, Alys whispered, “Take me to where magic is strongest.”
The smoke drifted up in a narrow column. For a moment, it seemed the spell hadn’t worked. But then the smoke snaked down the passageway. She followed where it led her, along the corridor, up a companionway, then along another passageway, before it stopped in front of one closed door.
Alys corked the vial, extinguishing the miniscule blaze. After drawing her cutlass, she pulled open the door and rushed in. She quickly shut the door behind her.
It was dim within, a heavy curtain over the porthole, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to shadows. There was a narrow berth, a small desk holding numerous scrolls and books, and a cabinet whose drawers were overflowing with countless objects. Feathers, animal bones, polished stones, seashells, metal amulets, even an assortment of human teeth. The room smelled of ash and loamy soil.
This cabin belonged to the ship’s mage. But the mage himself wasn’t within it. She’d have to wait.
She took a step deeper into the cabin, toward a long narrow wooden box. Thorny vines had been carved into the lid and sides. Inside were two rows of small bottles sealed with a plug of pale wax. She held one up. A reddish glow emanated from it, the glimmering contents swirling hypnotically.
Cautiously, she returned the bottle back to its case. The constellations only knew what it contained. Fumbling about with strange magic never ended well.
The cabin door swung in abruptly. Brandishing her cutlass, she spun to face a man with close-cropped blond hair, gray eyes, a black sash, and a malevolent smirk.
“I believe you’re looking for me,” the mage said.
