The Witch's Patron

Chapter 2

In the days following Mrs. Ladwick's death, grief and gossip swirled throughout the port community like an eddy. As a school teacher and sailor's wife, there was hardly a soul in the waterfront neighborhoods who didn't know and adore her.

"I still can't believe this," Noori murmured as she trudged numbly behind Toddrick away from the somber burial service. Her eyes dragged over the faces of the mourning crowd, most still loitering and talking quietly, unable to bring themselves to disperse quite yet. "I saw her just a couple weeks ago and she seemed the same as always. We meant to make plans for tea." Guilt stabbed at her heart and her chest heaved. How she regretted not making those plans sooner.

Miranda Ladwick had meant a lot of things to a lot of people, but she had meant an even greater deal to Noori Owusua. Well before ever sitting in her classroom, Mrs. Ladwick had been a fixture in the Owusua household – she and her husband were as much a part of the family as the rest of the seafaring community. Dak had sailed with Charles Ladwick in his younger years, before he took over the post of harbor master after his father's passing. In the years after Noori was born, Miranda spent many days with her mother. They raised their children—Noori Owusua just a babe and Evelyn Ladwick already coming into her girlhood—in a sisterhood of sailor's wives, side by side. And when Noori's mother eventually abandoned that sisterhood, as well as her husband and daughter years later, it was Mrs. Ladwick who remained.

Thinking about all of this now was like a hand around Noori's throat. Not one for shedding tears in front of others, she dipped her face and hid behind the dark cloud of her hair for a modicum of privacy.

"Does anyone know what happened?" asked Minty between hiccuping sobs. She shuffled along at Noori's side, dabbing her shining eyes with a handkerchief. Unlike Noori, she didn't seem troubled by weeping openly – or loudly for that matter. "I've only heard rumors, but some of them are too awful to be true."

Noori's head snapped up with a jolt. She hadn't heard any rumors, awful or otherwise. The fact that Mrs. Ladwick was dead had been awful enough.

"What did you hear?"

Minty pursed her lips and cast a furtive glance around. "I overheard some gossip at the butcher. They said..." she paused, swallowed, "they said she was murdered. Found dead in her own bed."

"That's ridiculous," Noori scoffed. Her blood boiled. "It's a bold-faced lie. She fell ill, that's all. I heard it from Charles himself."

"Ill?" Minty's brow furrowed with confusion. "But, it's like you said – she was fine. I saw her too, likely right around when you did, Noori. I stopped by to give her one of my new tea plants and she seemed perfectly healthy to me."

Noori didn't want to admit that the notion frightened her. Any kind of illness that could fell its victim in a fortnight was a worrisome prospect, especially in a port city where so many came and went, taking their germs with them like invisible luggage.

Toddrick looked over his shoulder at them and forced a small smile. "Tea plant for everyone, Min?"

Minty answered with a dispassionate flutter of her hand that reminded Noori of an injured bird. "I've been giving them to my customers as a way to say thank you for their patronage. I thought it would be a nice way to invite people to my new stall at the market."

This was enough to shake Noori out of her funk for a moment.

"Oh, was that your news?" Fernweh's wharf market was renowned for its size and quality. Popular with both visitors and locals alike, a hopeful vendor's only chance of getting a permanent stall was either through grandfathering or lottery. So coveted were these stalls that families willed them down through generations. Newer institutions could only wait and hope. "Congratulations, Minty. That's really wonderful for you."