‘Only a smattering,’ they demur. ‘My partner is Lassairian.’
Morna speaks freely, warmly. I look at her face, pinched with concentration as she moves towards the book alcove, straightening stacks. As I suspected, her clothes are finer than they first suggested. Books are not commonplace in Paranish, but the docks haven’t been open so long that trade would be flourishing so soon. I wonder if she has other more established clientèle.
‘Are these all stories, these books?’
‘Not at all,’ Morna says. ‘See here.’ She takes a volume down from a shelf and beckons us over, lowering the book so Biba can see the pages.
‘Look, but don’t touch,’ she says, not unkindly.
She shows us an illustration, which goes across both pages, diagrams of plants with arrows and scribbles. ‘Herb lore,’ she explains, pointing to various elements. ‘See, this is the stamen and these are the petals,’ she points at the diagram and shows Biba. ‘Ah, and see here, we have a living example.’
Morna takes down a shrivelled rosemary plant, its leaves curling and brown.
‘Look, but don’t touch,’ I remind Biba sternly.
The plant undulates towards Biba, its leaves stretching out as if reaching for her.
Morna glances between the book and the empty gap on the shelf. ‘What was this doing on that shelf? Oh no, this is completely miscategorised.’
I can’t risk Morna seeing the plant moving.
‘Do you ever see maps?’ I ask suddenly.
‘Of course,’ she says, closing the book and putting it back on the shelf. The rosemary plant is forgotten.
Biba tugs on Morna’s arm. ‘We have one.’
Morna looks at me, expectantly. We’re here now, and we’ve had the good fortune to stumble upon someone who knows letters. Understanding the map is just the first step.
‘Yes, we do,’ I say, deciding to show my hand. There will be questions, but I have no choice. ‘A fair exchange, of course. Is your advice for sale?’
The bell above the shop door chimes and I turn to see two women enter. The first is drowning in soft light colours, more fabric than woman. She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear and deftly sidesteps all obstacles as she enters the shop and makes her way over to us. She’s followed by an older woman, short and stout with a lined round face.
‘Who are they?’ I ask, standing.
Biba is staring at the women, who smile and approach slowly.
‘These are friends of mine,’ Morna reassures us, pulling up chairs for the newcomers.
‘I’m Ligaya, Morna’s partner,’ the younger woman says, her voice heavily accented.
‘And I’m Narra,’ the older woman adds. ‘I own an inn not far from here.’
Morna sets about brewing a pot of tea and Ligaya begins to make polite conversation in stilted Nishian. Meanwhile, Narra is staring at Biba, who is beaming back at her.
‘Lookit,’ she says, uncurling her fist. Inside are some tiny seeds from the breakfast bun she was eating, retrieved from the plate still on the table.
I struggle to divide my attention between Ligaya’s chatter and Biba, half standing in my chair to grab her. She cries out, startled by my interruption.
‘Excuse me,’ I say, holding her to me and moving to an alcove to soothe her. I hide between the shelves as I hear them murmuring.
‘Did we do something?’ Ligaya asks.
‘What happened?’ asks Morna, over the whistling of the kettle.
Eventually I hear slow and steady footsteps and see Narra at the edge of the nook.
‘I saw what your girl can do,’ she begins, her voice gentle. I flinch but she continues. ‘She’s not the first gifted one we’ve encountered. In fact, I myself am a hedge witch and Ligaya is my apprentice – a kitchen witch.’
