The Witch's Patron

Chapter 12

Noori could hardly wait for sunset.

Even though Keizsa had told her that Luck would fetch her when the time was right, Noori was impatient. She wanted to deliver the paints as soon as possible. Part of her was afraid — she didn't want to be caught by the mysterious other witch with the contraband in her possession. But she was also strangely excited. Noori spent what remained of the day imagining how Keizsa would react, and the prospect of being the reason the art witch smiled made her irrationally happy.

When the sun finally set, Noori tended to her father first. After making sure he was comfortable, she grabbed her satchel and slipped out into the night. She wasn't sure if this night's journey would work out. Perhaps Luck wouldn't come to her and she wouldn't be able to find the door to Keizsa's studio. But she had to try.

Noori retraced her steps from the first night, then the second.

"Luck!" she whispered into the darkness when she arrived at the cul-de-sac and found the studio door absent. "Luck, it's me. Please, I have something for your mistress." It was getting late, and she was losing hope. She decided to push just a little further into the city before calling it a night. When she turned, she found the glowing hummingbird fluttering before her.

"Good lad," Noor smiled, relief surging through her like a strong drink. "Will she see me?"

Luck whistled and chirped, spinning a few quick laps around her before shooting off down an alleyway. Keeping one hand firmly on her satchel, Noori took off in pursuit.

The studio came to her quickly this time, and she all but fell through the door in her hurry.

"You again?" Keizsa sighed from where she was bent over her drafting table, hands black and smudged with charcoal. "I told you Luck would fetch you when it was time."

Breathless, Noori held up a hand. "Wait," she huffed, trying to catch her breath. "Before you throw me out, I have something for you."

"I wasn't going to throw you out," Keizsa muttered, using her smock to clean her hands as she came around the table to greet her guest.

Noori reached into her satchel, stealing a quick glance at the art witch as she did. Keizsa seemed to be back to her normal, flippant self; arms crossed and a brow cocked dubiously. But Noori could still remember how broken and angry she looked by the fire. The despair had been so visceral, and the memory was hard to shake.

"Here," Noori said, holding out the package like a delicate artifact.

Keizsa gasped, her tawny eyes darting from the package to Noori's expectant gaze and back again.

"Is that..." she carefully took the bundle, disbelief coloring every inch of her face. "How did you..."

With shaking hands, the witch unwrapped the fabric to uncover a long, ornately carved box. Noori, who hadn't been brave enough to steal a peek before, leaned in to get a closer look. Keizsa's fingers explored the carved surface as though she were caressing a lover, and when she lifted the lid, her eyes welled up delight.

"My stars," Keizsa whispered, making her way back to the table. One by one she pulled out small clay pots, holding them up to the light so that Noori could see how each was as painstakingly crafted as the box they had come in.

"Are they what you were hoping for?" Noori asked quietly, not wanting to spoil the moment. "Are these the paints you need?"

Keizsa blinked, her attention pulled back to the present. She looked at Noori as though she was seeing her for the first time.

"How did you get these?" she asked, her voice quivering in a way that gave Noori pause. She had hoped the art witch would be grateful, but she hadn't expected this swell of emotion, and it make her feel weightless.