The Spell of Rosette - Kim Falconer [15]
Exhaustion, then. I’m imagining things.
With a deep breath, she turned down the lane to the right and jogged along the cobbled path until the scent of salt air, fish and tar nearly knocked her down.
Follow my nose indeed!
The harbour was amazing. She’d never seen so many vessels in her life. They were every size and shape, from little dinghies bobbing up and down like toy boats in bathtub-sized berths to sleek yachts with bare masts reaching endlessly skywards. Fishing boats were heading out to sea, their decks dotted with men coiling ropes and working the nets. Some had multiple cranes hoisting lobster traps, their newly patched wires shining brightly in the slanting light. Seagulls filled the air, their ruckus deafening. Some were hovering over the trawlers, but most jostled for position at the end of the cleaning racks, fighting over the last scraps of the day.
Watching a pair of pelicans land awkwardly at the far side of the harbour, she spotted the clippers. They were the ships that ferried passengers and goods up and down the coast from south of Lividica to northern Dumarka, fast and sure. With luck, there would be one heading north tonight. As the sun set, a renewed fear gripped her. She wanted to slip away, quickly and without fuss, the sooner the better. When she landed in Dumarka, it would only be a matter of hours before she found Nell, if the woman was about. She had no idea what to do if the witch was gone. She didn’t want to think about that possibility.
Nell lived a full day’s walk from Dumarka Bay, in a cottage by the woods. Rosette hadn’t visited for years, not since she was nine, though she was sure she would remember the way. If she had a sanctuary anywhere in the world, it would be with Nell. She remembered the warm embraces, walks in the woods, fireside stories and cinnamon oatcakes. She also remembered the star charts and mobiles of planets hanging from the rafters of the cottage, and the book of spells and rituals. There was much she could learn from Nellion Paree.
If she’ll have me.
As the sun dropped to the horizon and bathed the harbour in blood-red light, she spotted a hard-looking man in a captain’s hat. She approached him with her ‘buyer’s walk’, the body language her father had taught her. She automatically adopted it whenever she was about to bargain—smart, confident and aloof.
‘Passage to Dumarka, Captain…?’ She paused to give him a chance to supply his name.
‘Raman.’
‘Captain Raman,’ she nodded. ‘I would like to book passage tonight, if that’s convenient.’
She was careful to keep any trace of urgency from her voice. It wasn’t easy. Again she felt as if she was being watched. She softened her peripheral vision and glimpsed the hooded figure lurking in the shadows by the storage shed.
‘I’ve got a berth if you can leave now.’ He eyed her empty hands. ‘Where’re your bags, missy?’
‘This is it.’ She turned her shoulder to display Jarrod’s small backpack with her quilt tied in a neat roll on top. ‘How much?’
‘Twenty pieces of gold.’
She whistled, brief but piercing. ‘Are we sailing on a golden barge?’ She scrutinised the clipper and laughed. ‘I’ll give you ten.’
Captain Raman lifted his eyebrows. ‘Where’re you from, girl?’ ‘Lividica.’
‘Daddy’s a merchant?’
She didn’t hesitate. ‘He’s a physician.’
‘Running away, are we?’
‘That’s not your concern.’
‘It is if you’re underage.’
‘I’m not.’
‘So you say.’ He took off his cap and ran his hand through his hair before replacing it. ‘Give me fifteen pieces of gold and I won’t tell anyone where you’re going.’
Rosette looked for the hooded figure while pretending to consider the offer. She couldn’t spot it. ‘Done.’
She counted the money into the captain’s weathered hand and made her way up the ramp. The foghorn bellowed