The Witch's Patron

Chapter 4

The busy, relentless pace of Fernweh didn't lend itself well to grieving. To properly grieve takes time — a resource in short supply when visiting ships hold anchor for nobody, and departing ships have schedules to keep. And so, for Noori, life had to move on.

One ship slated to sail in a day's time was the Seahawk – a fishing yawl belonging to Toddrick Fairbanks's family. For the most part, the Fairbanks's primary business was one of catching daily hauls to sell at the market. But their real money came from larger contracts for the sorts of catches that could only be found out in the deep sea. Toddrick and his two elder brothers took turns joining their father and uncle on these week-long ventures, ensuring that one of the boys would always stay back to help his mother and aunts at the family stall in the wharf market. Toddrick's turn to sail had come around once again, which is how Noori found herself up at the crack of dawn hurrying to the wharf to help set up the Fairbanks family fish stall for another busy market day. She wanted to make sure Toddrick could squeeze in one last pilotage fare, followed by a tall pint in the pub before he left, so she volunteered her time in hopes that another body in the mix would help enough to free up some time in her best friend's tight schedule.

Noori wove through alleys of the still-shuttered stalls, making her way to the center of the marketplace where the Fairbanks stall sat like a monarch holding court. Though they were far from the only fish-hawkers in the city, the Fairbanks family had been at it the longest. The stall had remained in operation for the last two generations, giving them more seniority over the others. They were the old guard.

Cutting between two stalls — a short-cut she had been using as long as she could remember — Noori arrived at the Fairbanks's stall just as Toddrick stepped out from under the awning, beaming. As soon as she was close enough, he pulled her into a hug that lasted just a touch too long .

"Thanks for helping us out," he said as he pulled back and crammed his fists into the pockets of his apron. "It's an all hands on deck kind of day at the Fairbanks household."

Noori answered with a lazy shrug. "You know it's never a problem. I'm happy to help, so put me to work."

Mrs. Juliet Fairbanks, Toddrick's loud and commanding mother, put them both to work preparing ice for the basins. As she pulled on one of the dark aprons, long since saturated with the incurable odor of fish viscera and a pair of leather gloves stiff with salt, Noori could feel Toddrick's eyes on her.

"What?" she asked, her eyes searching his face, suspicious.

Toddrick flipped his palms skyward and gave her a curious tilt of his head. His eyes were wide and questioning. "Well? What was it?"

It took Noori an extra beat to realize what he was talking about. "Oh, from Mrs. Ladwick?"

"Of course!"

He had clearly been dying to ask her about it. Noori glanced over the should to where Mrs. Fairbanks and her sister-in-law were already knee-deep in gossip of their own. All the same, Noori kept her voice low when she leaned in to answer his question.

"Do you remember that painting I told you about? The one of Allegiant's wreck that she told me was a protection spell?"

Toddrick's expression lit up in incredulous disbelief. "She didn't."

"Oh, she did."

He was the only person Noori ever told about the eerie painting and the story Mrs. Ladwick told her that night in her parlour. The day Charles Ladwick returned to Fernweh, regaling everyone with the nightmarish details of his ordeal — of the colossal storm waves that tore down one of the ship's three masts and the screaming winds that ripped the sails from their rigging — and sobbed that he was the only one to make it out alive, Noori and Toddrick shared a stricken look that conveyed both excitement in terror. Could it all been true? Did Charles Ladwick really owe his life to something painted by a witch?