He smiles at her. ‘I bet you haven’t seen many witches, eh?’
She colours. I look around until I’m satisfied none of the other guests have heard us over the hubbub of breakfast.
‘Ligaya told me about the emerald vine,’ Biba says slowly.
‘Oh, you’ve heard the love story too, eh?’ Finlyr asks.
‘She came from Lassair to find an emerald vine,’ Isagani adds, seeing my raised eyebrow.
‘It was her mama’s last wish,’ Biba chimes in. I watch as the words come tumbling out. Is she afraid a pause for breath will have her story silenced? ‘It only blossoms ever so rarely. And it doesn’t grow on Lassair because that’s on the water. Ligaya said when she sleeps, she still feels the boat rocking. Makes her feel like her mama’s still holding her...’ She trails off, twisting the hem of her pinafore. She’s travel-worn, knees scraped and dirt under her fingernails. She adds, in a whisper: ‘Sometimes I feel like that too.’
I blink back tears and try to smile at her. ‘I’m glad you’ve had a chance to talk with Ligaya and Narra,’ I tell Biba. ‘We don’t know many like-folk,’ I add for Finlyr and Isagani’s benefit.
Biba reaches for my hand, and I feel a jolt, like your heart in your mouth when you miss the final step.
Then the inquisitive chirrup of the otter-cat. He’s found his way back into Biba’s lap and has probably been observing for who knows how long, so silent he’s practically a shadow.
‘You’re the map-holder,’ Sinigang says quietly, just for us.
I nod. ‘And you’re magic-touched.’
‘Not so much touched, as simply... am,’ he says. ‘A strange concept to you, I think. But not to her.’ He purrs as Biba strokes his head.
‘He’s not a pet, Biba,’ I say, harsher than I mean to.
She looks at me. ‘He’s wild, not bad.’
‘I don’t think you’re talking about the same otter-cat,’ Isagani says under their breath.
‘Narra’s cauldron brings together many strange ingredients,’ Sinigang says, winking at me. ‘You’re already beginning to find what you’re looking for.’
Finlyr stands up, slapping his knees with those massive hands. ‘Right, time to get on.’
A shiver runs up my spine as he moves away, singing a work song I recognise from sailors in taverns. His deep voice is surprisingly warm, low and rumbling as he carries a tune:
‘Haul away from shore to shore
The lover of the ocean
Never could they love me more
Than sailing the horizon’
Not a merchant, but a sailor. An invisible golden thread pulling us along first from Morna’s to Narra’s... and now to this strange man with secrets I must unearth.
chapter twenty
hanan
I had alwayssuspected there was a secret passage between the mainland and the Winter Isle; now I know I was correct. The damp on Mother Lin’s cloak, the packages of books and writing instruments I bundled up for her, the fact she was always returning with different volumes. I had kept silent and watched, until I was a shadow and they forgot I was there. It had been easier then, to take liberties: letting my glance stray overlong at a scroll, Mother Lin letting me lock up the library after she had gone to supper. Ample chances to copy things out, steal away those symbols and learnings in the hopes that, with enough time, I could unlock its secrets. I feel vindicated by the discovery of the aqueduct, which is what Mother Joca calls it.
‘Get in the boat and row,’ she commands, untying the dock line and throwing the sodden rope at me.
I stare at the weathered planks, unsure if the thing will even hold my weight.
‘The guards will meet you at the other side of the aqueduct,’ Mother Lin adds.
Now that it’s untethered, the small rowboat begins following the current down the tunnel. I have no choice but to half-jump, half-fall into the vessel with an almighty splash. I grab for the oars and row, feeling the pressure of the wood against my hands as I attempt the strange movement. When I turn to look back, the Mothers are gone.
