Page 9 of Witchsea

“It is, I guess. Wasn’t expecting that,” I admit to him. It’s enough for his shoulders to drop and some of the tension to leave his body. He hands me a small potion bottle. “Thank you.”

“Drink it up, and you will need to bind your ribs with this.” He goes to a drawer, picking out a bandage and another potion. He pours the potion over the bandage before folding it and bringing it to me. I down the first potion, which tastes of nothing, like eating snow. The pain in my chest eases, leaving me just tired. “Broken ribs are a common complaint on this ship, and I’ve learned binding for two days heals them. Put this on after you’ve cleaned up and see me tomorrow to replace it. Your hands will be healed by then too, and don’t worry, the bandage is waterproof. I designed it myself. Water is a common issue on a ship too.”

There are two small knocks that interrupt me thanking Clark again. Clark softly shouts, “Come in!” The door opens and probably one of the smallest women that I’ve ever seen walks in. Her face is covered in freckles. So many freckles, dotted all over her face and all down her chest and arms, which her different choice of clothing allows me to see. She is wearing a fitted purple top that is cropped to show her stomach and low-falling dark trousers that move around her like they are almost a skirt. I saw her earlier, I realize. Her hair is the most vibrant red and hard to forget, falling in bursts of curls all over her head and down to her shoulders. Her eyes are the brightest of silver as she looks at me and grins.

When she comes in and the light shines on her, I realize the freckles across her cheeks are tiny little star shapes. “I’m so sorry, Clark, but I just wanted to introduce myself to Miriam.” She turns to me. “Hello, my name is Freckles.”

“That your real name or a fake one?” I cross my arms and try not to show on my face how much that movement hurt.

Freckles just grins. “Yes and no. It’s not my real name, like Chaos isn’t his real name either. It’s a little complicated and I’ll explain it when you feel better. You might not have noticed, but there aren’t any other females on the ship, and I’m in desperate need for someone to chat with and drink some wine with.” Chat with? Like friends? I don’t have those. And I wouldn’t know what wine tastes like. The closest thing we had to wine is mead, made by the drunks in the brothels, and it was expensive. I’ve seen people lose their minds, their bodies, and everything to the bottle, and I’ve always had too much to lose to let myself go down that path.

When I don’t answer, she clears her throat. “Or just water… I’m going to take you to get you some clothes and show you where you can wash up to get some of the ash off you and help you feel better. You don’t have to be my friend if you don’t want to, I won’t push. I’m just saying I’m here if you want someone to talk to. It will be a long trip.”

“Freckles, I don’t think you should…” Clark interrupts, and I glance at him to see he is pale and nervous, and it makes me wonder if Freckles is breaking some rule by coming in here.

Freckles waves him off. “Come with me before Clark tells on us, because he will.”

I look between Freckles and a very nervous-looking Clark, and sigh. I’d rather go with this girl than Chaos or Draven.

The moment I stand up, I nearly fall over, and Freckles steadies me with a hand on my elbow. “You feel so scared and sad.”

I yank my elbow out of her touch, and that’s when I notice her ears are pointed, too. Is this a ship full of witches with magic? What in the name of the gods have I got myself into? “You used magic on me? I didn’t even see you cut yourself to do it.”

“Sorry.” She bows her head quickly. “I can feel emotions when I touch someone. Sometimes I can use the stronger emotions like power, and for the record, my magic works as long as I have an open cut anywhere on my body.” She points to her stomach where there is a slight cut. “I cut myself yesterday on a crate, and I forgot about it until I touched you.”

I nod and stare at her for a long moment. She didn’t mean to do it. I actually believe her because she looks upset. “Don’t do that again.”

“I won’t on purpose,” she offers. “And in apology, I distracted Chaos with a problem on the deck so I could come and help you. You should probably avoid him. He’s grumpy and protective of Ren and anyone who’s on the ship. His job is to protect it, and he is second in command. You’ve met Clark now. You’ve obviously met our captain, and I’d definitely avoid him. He hates your kind. Oh, there’s also Tracker. You’ll meet him too, soon. He’s my cousin and third in command. Tracker’s nicer.”

Clark looks like he is about to pass out. “Our captain won’t like you giving away all our secrets!”

Freckles completely ignores Clark’s warning. “Tracker steers the ship, and he can manipulate the currents…well, it’s complicated to explain, and I don’t really get how he does it either.” She looks at Clark. “Miriam is scared, and I don’t like it. I’m telling her things she will learn on the ship anyway to help her trust me. I don’t care if they get mad at me for it.”

I smile at her. I think I like her after all. “And what can Chaos do?”

“Oh, he amplifies sound and can hear anything. Even like the tiniest whisper, and it’s really annoying he can’t hear his own snoring.” Freckles opens the door. “Trust me enough to come for a walk to your room now? Chaos will hear this and be stomping our way soon.”

I nod and take the bandages Clark offers me, thanking him once more before stepping out. Freckles leads me straight across the open space to a pair of massive doors on the other side, and she slides them open from the middle. The room is different from what I was expecting them to keep me in. It’s bigger for one, with a huge four-poster bed right in the center, with dark sheets and dozens of messy pillows of the same deep, rich blue color. There’s so much stuff in here—piles of books, gadgets I don’t recognize, and maps thrown all over a desk in the corner. Several lanterns hang from the ceiling, all different ones, and the different glass casings make a haze of light hover like a ghost. There are more books, more piles of paperwork, stuff pressed against two floor-length windows that overlook the icy sea that seems to stretch on and on.

“Is this a storage room?” I ask. It doesn’t really matter. Freckles doesn’t say anything, but her cheeks brighten a little. I step over the thick fur rugs that are all different and cover so much of the floor. I note the masculine smell to the room as I touch the rows of carving knives clipped to a belt left on the top of the cabinet by the door. Someone else must have stayed in here, but that won’t stop me from acquiring those carving knives. I would feel better having weapons on me so I can defend myself if need be.

Freckles opens a small door, and inside is a basic washroom with several buckets of water that looks clean. She comes back to pick up the dagger belt. “I was supposed to check this room for weapons…sorry. Captain’s orders.” I shrug for a reply; I don’t blame him one bit for hiding weapons from me, because when I get one, I’m implanting it into his hand. Setting aside my vengeful thoughts, I focus on the bathroom. There is a tub big enough to get into, with several colored soaps and other bottles left aside in a mess, and clean towels hang on the wall near the door.

Freckles touches a pile of clothes on a crate in the corner. “I don’t have any dresses to give you. I don’t know if you like dresses, but unfortunately, they’re not really suitable for the ship, so I put out these that are my spares and were always a little too long for me. When we stop off next, I’ll go shopping and get you some more choices. For now, I have three sets of clothes for you that are all like this.”

“I hate dresses and I like your clothes. This was to get the map.” I wave at the mess of a dress still clinging to me.

She looks relieved. “Good! All the tops that I’ll get you will be long-sleeved. I think, with the map, perhaps it will be a good idea to help with the attention.”

I put the bandage down on the crate next to the clothes. The fabric of the clothes looks even nicer than my stolen dress. “I agree. Thank you for helping me, and for the room. I will work and find a way to pay you gold for the⁠—”

She holds her hand up. “It’s free.”

I narrow my eyes. “I’m not a charity case. I will pay you back.”

Her shoulders drop. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Okay, I won’t accept gold from you, but my job on this ship is sewing. I know it sounds silly, but we always need clothes mended, bedding and other things. Can you sew?”

“Yes, and I’m good at it. I’m always fixing—” I almost say Rowe’s clothes or bedding from when the winter moths come and eat, making holes. “I can help you with your work to make us even. It’s a deal.”