Katrina sat in a sea of people, all of them moving at once. They were big as trees, towering over her, though she clung to Mama’s hand, Katrina shivered. The big people were screaming at someone, shouting and calling names. Names she’d never heard before. But she didn’t need to know what they were to know they were bad. Just the way they screamed them out told her so.
The bodies pressed in, jostling her against Mama, and she clung with all her might as the sea of people tried to sweep her away.
“Mama!” she screamed, but no one could hear her above all the voices, the screaming. The crying.
Mama grabbed her and pulled her up into her arms. Safer, Katrina sank down into Mama’s embrace, feeling Mama tighten her grip, keeping her safe from the crowds.
“Look away, Katrina!” Mama cried. “Don’t look!”
It was an order. Mama gave so few orders, and Katrina tried to obey them all. She did now, shutting her eyes tight as she lay her head against Mama’s shoulder. But the commotion outside her mother’s embrace was too enticing. Katrina wanted to look, wanted to see what the people were yelling at, and wanted to see what had angered them so.
She blinked, catching glimpses of people towering over a small figure at their feet. Another blink, red blood covering the small figure’s face, hair a mess.
It was a girl with short hair lying on the ground. The girl tried to scramble to her feet, slipping on the wet stones. She wasn’t much bigger than Jamie, Katrina’s neighbor who came to watch Katrina when Mama was in the fields. But Jamie was always smiling and happy; this girl was crying. Dirty tear tracks ran down her face, and she pulled herself away from the crowd, clawing at the stone to get away.
“Why are they so mad, Mama? Did she do something bad?”
“Look away, Katrina. You’re so young. You shouldn’t see this.”
Mama pushed through the crowd, elbowing people to get out of the way. Katrina watched as the tiny figure got swallowed up by the crowd, and still she could not understand why they were hurting the girl.
***
Alyn watched as Katrina patted the dirt over the new seeds. They were same seeds Alyn had bought at the dock just a few weeks before. That had been the same day the poor girl had been pulled away by the acolytes.
“I’m tucking them in so they can grow big and strong just like me,” Katrina had said. An odd thing for a little girl to say, but she was always saying things that gave Alyn pause. She was a peculiar child, and very intelligent for such a young age. At just five, the girl already had taken over the majority of care for the kitchen garden.
Alyn turned away, pulling a few weeds from the bed before her. The sky was already filling with the fluffy white clouds foreshadowing a spring shower, and she wanted to get everything planted before they began.
Taking out her trowel, Alyn dug a little hole then tilted over the pot to loosen the little starter plant.
“No, Mama, that one should be over here, in the shade. That flower doesn’t like so much sunlight.”
Alyn looked down at the anise in her hand, the sweet scent of licorice wafting up toward her. “How do you know that?” she asked.
Katrina blinked up at her. “I just do. Don’t you?”
“No, Katrina, I don’t. I’ve never grown anise before. I only got a cutting from Mrs. Bettus down the lane because it makes good tea for coughs in the winter.”
“It also helps your tummy feel better,” Katrina said as she took the plant and headed toward the shadier part of the garden.
“Do you know many things about the plants, Katrina?” she asked, a sick feeling settling in her stomach.
Katrina stopped, looking up at her mother with a frown.
“No, of course you don’t understand what I mean,” Alyn said, giving her a reassuring smile. “Katrina, please don’t tell anyone else what you know of the flowers and plants, all right?”
“But why not, Mama? Wouldn’t Mrs. Bettus be happy if I helped her make her garden better?”
“Yes, dear child, but then they might start asking questions, and that is never good for us. People don’t like it when little girls and boys do things that are special. They become afraid, and then bad things happen.”
“Bad things?”
“So many questions,” Alyn said with a sigh. “You’re too smart for your own good, you know?”
“Why don’t they like little girls and boys to be special, Mama?”
Alyn took a seat on a stump at the edge of the garden and pulled Katrina up in her lap.
“Some people are afraid, Katrina. Do you understand that?”
Katrina nodded, her eyes focused fully on Alyn.
“When little girls and boys can do things that they can’t do, the villagers become afraid that they will grow up and know even more. They are afraid that those special people will be strong and hurt them.”
“Is that why they were yelling at the girl at the town? Was she special?”
Alyn blinked. She had hoped that Katrina had forgotten about the young girl, Mara. Accused of being a witch, the girl had been handed over to the acolytes at the tower. After the crowd took out their fear on the poor girl first, of course. She would be a sacrifice to the kraken on the new moon. It was the price of safety in the Sea of Tears.
“Yes, Katrina,” Alyn said, hugging her closer. “This is a very special gift you have, but others won’t understand. You should always be careful, okay?”
“Yes, Mama,” Katrina said. Reaching up with chubby little hands, Katrina gave Alyn a gentle hug.
Is this what it felt like for Mara’s parents as they watched their daughter grow into a beautiful young girl? Did they see the signs when she was just a child? Did they try hiding it like she was doing now?
Her heart hurt for the young girl and her parents, but there was nothing she could do or say that would not give away her own lie. If she tried to comfort the broken parents, others might look on her with suspicion, and all it took was the wrong words being said to the right busybody—and then it no longer mattered if it were true or not. The kraken was a hungry beast, and the acolytes would feed it.
Alyn could have curried favor with the acolytes for herself by turning in Katrina. It was the responsible thing to do for all of the men and women in the Sea of Tears. Indoctrinated into them from childhood, she’d watched other parents who willingly gave up their children to satisfy the kraken’s hunger, and save the trade ships traveling through the Sea of Tears.
But holding Katrina close and listening to her prattle on about one flower or another was enough for Alyn to know she could never turn her daughter over to the acolytes.
If Katrina were a witch, she couldn’t be evil. The little girl only wanted to help people, and plants. Alyn couldn’t imagine her daughter harming anything. The stories described witches as men and women who lusted after power and would harm anyone in their zeal to get it. There was no way that Katrina could ever be like that.
Would the young girl change as she grew up? Everyone changed, didn’t they? Could magic really taint her heart and change her for the worse? Or were the tales they passed down little more than bedtime stories meant to scare children into behaving?
In the end it didn’t matter. She would hide Katrina’s budding talent for as long as she could. Alyn would deal with the consequences when she had to.
***
The knock at her door hadn’t been entirely unexpected. There had been signs, warnings throughout the month. Whispers when she went into the village for supplies. Furtive looks, and pointing. And the hex.
The hex was a recent thing, painted on her door only three days prior. Alyn should have been shocked to see it, but she had only held Katrina closer, smelling the salt spray and fresh cut grass in her hair, and silently weeping for her daughter.
She swung the door wide now to see her friend and neighbor, Yulanda, on the step.
“Three days,” Alyn said.
Yulanda looked down at the ground, her face red even in the soft glow of the candlelight. It was pitch black outside, deep in the night when no other would see her.
“Did they send you, or did you come on your own?”
“I came of my own accord,” Yulanda said.
“And that’s why you’re sneaking around in the dead of night?” Alyn asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
As angry as Alyn was at the village, she had to admit that Yulanda was taking a risk to come speak to her of her own accord. It was the place of village elders and midwives to herald in the will of the acolytes, not an old farm woman’s. Once a home had been hexed, it was unwise for anyone to go there.
For the last dregs of their friendship, Alyn stepped aside and let Yulanda come in. The older woman shook a bit when she crossed the threshold, the stigma of the hex clearly visible on the outer door.
“I wanted to explain—”
“Is the hex for me or my daughter?” Alyn asked, having no desire to mince words. There wasn’t time for niceties any longer; surely Yulanda knew that.
“Katrina,” Yulanda said. She stood a little straighter, as if saying the words had been enough to give her the strength for what she had to do. They both knew why she’d come, and they both knew how it would end. The conversation was just a formality.
“And why didn’t a village elder come to tell me?”
“We all know how much you love your daughter, Alyn. We know what she means to you. They didn’t want to cause a scene.”
“And yet they hexed my home.”
“You know why,” she said in a small voice.
Some part of Alyn’s heart whispered that Yulanda had betrayed her. She had been involved in condemning her daughter to the acolytes, involved in sentencing her to die. But she couldn’t hide behind false blame. Wasn’t it only a few months ago that Alyn stood by as a hex was made on another young girl’s door? She had been in the crowd when they began to beat her, and sent her to the acolytes for sacrifice. Even then, her heart had been torn, wanting to save the girl. She had done what was necessary for the community, she had told herself. It was necessary to save Katrina.
Why should she think it was any different now that the girl in question was her own daughter? The community would have decided their fate already. And the community was far more important than one little girl. Wasn’t it?
Alyn turned away, busying herself by restacking dishes and straightening towels on the counter. None of it mattered, but it kept her mind occupied as it kept worrying over the horrible things she saw coming in the not too distant future.
“What did they see?” Alyn asked.
When Yulanda hesitated, Alyn’s hands stilled, and she looked up at Yulanda. The older woman was standing still, her mouth twisted in a purse, eyes looking at anything else in the room other than Alyn, or the door to Katrina’s bedroom.
“Yulanda,” Alyn said, turning back to face her, hands on hips, “she is my daughter. My own blood. You can at least do me the kindness of telling me what happened.”
“She was in the field picking blackberries when Mrs. Bettus wandered through.”
“Nothing seems amiss with that,” Alyn said, crossing her arms.
“She said that Katrina was singing to the berries, and the berries were turning black on the stalks right before her eyes.”
“And she ran to the elders, and they believed her?”
“They looked for evidence, of course. Katrina is one of our own; they weren’t going to give her to the acolytes without being sure.”
“So they snuck around my home and looked for evidence without speaking to me, or letting me know they were there?” she said, growing angrier by the second. “They did that, and no one, not even you, thought I should know until just now?”
Yulanda held up her hands, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Of course no one told her; they were all afraid. Afraid of the witch, afraid she would hex them first, afraid that one little girl who sang to flowers might turn them into a frog.
Alyn turned away, twisting the tea towel in her hand. “Why are you here, Yulanda?”
“Your home has already been hexed. Judgment passed. If you don’t hand her over when the acolytes come, you might be sent with her. You’ve been a good friend to me, Alyn. I didn’t want to see you hurt.”
“No, just my daughter,” she said accusingly.
“You’re still young,” Yulanda pleaded. “You can have another child.”
“My husband is dead, and I’m alone. How do you suppose I’m to have another child?”
“There are many young men who have been looking your way since Rinaldo’s death. Don’t you think it’s time to move on?”
“Rinaldo was my husband, and I loved him. He’s only been gone a year, and you already want to set me up with some other man? And over my own daughter’s burial as well. Would you get over the death of your husband so quickly?”
“If it meant the chance to live a bit longer and hold another child in my arms, perhaps. You can’t hold onto his legacy any longer, Alyn.”
“His legacy?” Alyn said, standing straight. “You think this is all about my husband? What about the little girl that’s asleep in her bed right now? Why would I want another child when I have a daughter right now? She is the best part of my life. She’s the only joy left to me, and you want me to just hand her over for a sacrifice?”
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Yulanda shook her head, unable to look Alyn in the eyes. “You don’t have a choice,” she whispered. “She is a witch, and you know what happens when a witch grows up. You’ve heard the stories as well as I have.”
The words were blunt. A witch. They weren’t even questioning it any longer. They had completed their investigation. They already had enough evidence. They’d concluded that Katrina was a witch. That meant there was no possibility of convincing them otherwise.
Sinking down into the chair, she put her face in her hands, her body shaking with sobs.
The woman crossed the room and put a comforting hand on Alyn’s shoulders. “You’ve been my friend since we were young. I understand your attachment to her, but the will of the kraken outweighs any attachments we have. You know that.”
“She’s my daughter,” Alyn cried, pulling away. “How could you understand? Your son is safe in his bed while my child is being offered up as a meal for a beast.”
“That beast is the only thing that stands between us and another uprising by the witches,” Yulanda said. “It provides safe passage to our sailors, a good wind for trading, and many of us thrive because it is there.”
Was feeding the beast worth the price? Alyn wondered. They taught the children the benefits of the kraken, filling their minds with stories of witches coming in through windows to steal away children in their sleep. She remembered a particularly gruesome one her mother told her of a witch in a little cottage in the middle of the woods who sucked the marrow from cracked bones and cast spells to turn adults into frogs. Of course that was before the kraken, before the acolytes brought the witches to heel.
“And it only costs the blood of the innocent,” Alyn whispered. She stood, her mouth pursed into a thin line, eyes hard as she glared back at Yulanda.
“I’ve told you what’s going to happen.” Yulanda straightened her skirts and stepped closer to the door. “I did my duty. I don’t want to lose you too, Alyn. I love you like a sister, but if you stand in the way of the acolytes when they arrive, no one will be able to save you.”
Alyn’s shoulders slumped, tears filling her eyes, though she held them back. She couldn’t pretend any longer: They were coming for Katrina, and she wouldn’t be able to stop them. The fear of the witches wasn’t as strong as the people’s fear of the acolytes and the kraken they wielded. If she stood in their way, it was likely that she would be sacrificed as well—if she lived that long.
“How long until they arrive?” she whispered.
“Two weeks,” Yulanda said, her voice softer. “I’m sorry, Alyn. I am.”
“So am I. Please go. I want to spend as much time with her as possible.”
Yulanda did not need to be asked again. She quietly slipped back into the darkness without another word.
Alyn closed and locked the door behind Yulanda then walked back into the main chamber where the fire blazed merrily in the hearth, casting golden light on the small room. Katrina lay fast asleep near the hearth, and Alyn said a small thanks to whatever gods might be listening that she hadn’t woken during her friend’s visit. How could she explain her conversation with Yulanda to the young girl?
Alyn couldn’t picture her daughter ever growing into the horrible creatures from stories. Katrina had always been a soft-spoken and obedient child. She brought love and light to a home that had been filled with pain after her father’s death. A child like that couldn’t grow into the horrors from the fairy tales. Could she?
Did all witches use magic to control people, or force them to do horrible things against their will? Could they set fire to an entire city, or cause a river to flood? Was there something in the magic that twisted them into such horrible creatures? Or was it the fear instilled in them by acolytes hunting them and feeding them to a magic hungry monster?
She didn’t have a lot of time, but that didn’t mean saving Katrina was entirely impossible. There were rumors, whispers on the sea of young witches that went missing before the sacrifice could be made. Sometimes the acolytes spread tales of parents that were sacrificed in lieu of their children for helping them escape. It would be worth it, Alyn thought. Far better that her child survive than for her to outlive her daughter. Witches were said to live for hundreds of years. Perhaps it would be enough time for Katrina to find a way to change things. At the very least, she would be able to grow into a young woman, find love, and have a child of her own. What mother wouldn’t want that for her daughter?
Alyn fell into the kitchen chair, pillowing her head in her arms on the table, and sobbed.
“Mama? Please don’t cry.”
Little arms wrapped around Alyn’s side.
Alyn stroked her hair, wiping her tears away with the back of her other hand. She had to be strong for Katrina and help her through this. But how could you be strong for your child when you knew you were sending them off to their death?
“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better, Mama?” Katrina asked.
Alyn smiled down at her daughter. Such a beautiful girl, so full of happiness and love. When Alyn had asked her why she sang to the flowers, Katrina had said, “To make them feel better.” The child only cared to make others happy.
“Can you sing for me?” Alyn asked.
“What should I sing, Mama?”
An idea formed in Alyn’s mind. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? Nothing was that easy. She’d lost her husband, and now she was losing her daughter. There was no last-minute reprieve for a witch. But if anything could give them even a glimmer of hope, it wouldn’t hurt to try.
“Katrina, you sing to the flowers, don’t you?”
“I do,” the little girl said, brightening. “I sing for them to bloom, and grow, and they listen to me.”
“Can you sing to the wind?”
Katrina’s eyes screwed up in thought as she looked to the window. “The wind? What would I sing to the wind? It doesn’t grow like a flower.”
“But the wind is the breath of the world,” Alyn explained. “It moves all across the Sea of Tears, taking your whispers and songs to all corners of the land. Maybe you could sing to the wind, and it will take your song across the sea.”
“What song?”
“Sing for someone to come help us, Katrina. Help so Mama doesn’t cry anymore. Someone who will keep you safe.”
Katrina smiled. “I’ll sing for you, Mama. I’ll ask the wind to bring someone to answer you, okay?”
“Okay,” Alyn said, hugging her close.
She took Katrina out to the front yard and sat in the grass among the flowers. And Katrina sang.
The song was soft and quiet, filled with whispered sounds and rushing melodies. And somewhere in the little yard, Alyn heard an echo. The sadness in Katrina’s heart as she hurt for her mother echoed back from the wind as it flew around the small clearing.
The notes were sad and lilting, filling Alyn’s heart with a deep sadness that she couldn’t shake. Tears filled her eyes as she listened to the song on the wind.
Katrina held a long note, and the wind wrapped around them like a caress. Then as she let the note go, the wind scattering out across the meadows. The song was lost, the sadness dissipating from around them.
“Is that it? Did the song go out across the sea?” Alyn asked.
“I told it to,” Katrina said, “but I don’t know if it will listen. You were right, Mama, the wind takes up all our whispers and takes them all across the seas. The wind is very quiet, and many of the whispers were all jumbled together like a puzzle. They overlapped, so it was hard to pull them apart, but I think it listened to me. I think it’s taking the song with it.”
“Let’s hope that someone hears it,” Alyn said and pulled her daughter into a tight hug.
They sat there together, watching the sunrise over the glade and listening to the wind whisper its many thoughts. Alyn dared to hope help would come. And prayed it wouldn’t come too late.
***
They came on the last day of the new moon, only two weeks after the hex had been marked on her door.
Alyn knew that her time was up the moment she saw the village elder, Rillen, in his official purple robes walking up her path. A gaggle of onlookers followed behind him, with three strong young men at his side. They had come for Katrina. That meant a ship was on the horizon, the white flag of the acolytes in view. It wouldn’t be long before they arrived, and they would want the girl waiting on the docks for them.
Alyn looked up to the sky, a pale blue with a smattering of white fluffy clouds skittering across the surface. The wind whispered through the trees, but it held no answers for her. Katrina’s song for help hadn’t been answered.
“Alyn, hand over the child!” Rillen cried.
“I can’t do that, Rillen. You know I can’t.”
The main group held back, watching as the elder and his ruffians came closer.
“It’s the will of the kraken, Alyn. You can’t stand in our way. We have to take the girl. The acolytes demand a sacrifice.”
“You’ll have to kill me too. My blood will be on your hands as well,” she said, pushing Katrina back behind her. She stood her ground, chin held high, knowing it was to no avail. Had the wind found someone to listen to their plea? Or had it been too late?
Rillen stood at the edge of the garden path, his men ranged behind him, awaiting the signal to pounce. Alyn could feel the tension strung through the air, a vibrating cord that threatened to strangle her.
“Witches are dangerous,” Rillen said in a lower voice. “How often have we had to turn over one of our own to keep the islands safe? How many times did you stand on the docks with us as we handed a child to the acolytes? You cannot choose now to save your own just because she is your flesh and blood.”
“That I did that to other children is contemptible,” Alyn said. “I hated myself then, but I stood beside you and allowed the acolytes to do as they pleased for the good of our community. And I was wrong. It was murder. We sent those children off to be killed, and their blood is on my hands. On all of our hands. We didn’t have to give them up; we could have hidden them, but instead we took the easy road. We let the acolytes bully us into handing over our children. For what? A few ships to bring fish to our shores? A bale of cotton and a barrel of oil? We traded blood for safety, and we are all to blame.”
The men and women had the decency to look away, but no one broke ranks.
Rillen took a step closer, his sallow cheeks paling. “I know this has to be difficult for you. Many of us have had to face this ourselves, and we all came to realize that the good of the community is worth more than one life. It’s more than a barrel of oil, or a bale of cotton. The sacrifices keep the kraken at bay and keep the witches from overrunning the islands as they did before. You can’t predict what the magic will do to young Katrina as she grows older. Will she be able to control it? Will she cast a spell in her anger and hurt those you love?”
Alyn paused. She’d been wondering that as well. Did the witch control the magic, or did the magic control the witch? There was no one to answer that question because every witch had been sacrificed to the kraken.
“Hand her over, Alyn,” Rillen said, taking a step closer. “You don’t have to be at the docks when the ship arrives, but the girl must be there.”
Alyn glanced around the clearing. There was nowhere to hide on the island, no way to run. No boat or ship willing to take a fugitive witch across the sea. They would come for her and overpower Alyn, stripping her daughter from her.
She could have handed Katrina to them, allowed the young girl to be carried off with a small bit of dignity as she died to protect the village. But Alyn couldn’t shake the memories of another young girl being kicked and struck on another dock as the acolytes came to drag her away. Katrina was smaller and easier to carry. She wouldn’t fight back. But that wouldn’t stop some of the more hateful in the village from try hurt the young girl just because she had been labeled a witch.
Rillen took the choice from Alyn’s hands, motioning to his men to move forward.
The three young men advanced on Alyn. She stepped back, hiding Katrina behind her, trying to shield her with her own body. It wouldn’t work, she knew it was futile, but every bone in her body cried out against handing over her daughter.
“No!” she cried, pressing back to the tiny cottage that had been her home. “You can’t do this. You can’t take my daughter like this.”
The wind whipped up, pulling her skirts as she pressed backward, the grass and trees swaying as the wind grew, seeming to draw from Alyn’s anger. Or Katrina’s fear.
The men advanced, circling around Alyn and Katrina.
The wind grew, whipping up into a storm that filled the small clearing, rocking trees down to their roots and sending the men flying to the ground. Dust devils formed and stripped leaves from the surrounding foliage. Sticks and twigs pelted the men, small rocks rising up into the air and hammering against them.
“Give her to me, quickly!”
Alyn squinted through the wind, her hair lashing against her face and stinging her eyes. A woman stood between them and the men with Rillen. Her dark hair hung limply down to her waist, untouched by the storm as though she stood in the eye of the tornado that had descended upon them.
She held out a slender hand, beaconing toward Katrina.
“You called,” the woman said. “I came. I will take her to a safe place.”
Alyn took a step forward, pulling Katrina along beside her, but saw something in the woman’s eyes. A sadness that she couldn’t place.
The rescue was only for one of them. Katrina.
“She’ll be safe?” Alyn asked, afraid the wind would steal away her words.
“I promise,” the woman said.
Alyn pushed Katrina forward, into the woman’s waiting embrace. Her heart broke as the woman’s hand wrapped around Katrina’s tiny arm, pulling her into the center of the storm. And even as the tears began to well up, spilling down her face, a happiness lightened her soul. Katrina would live. She would have the chance that Alyn longed to give her. It no longer mattered if Alyn lived or died. Katrina was safe.
The woman never took her eyes off Alyn as the funnel lifted her, and her young charge, back into the sky. The storm left with them, leaving the elder’s men lying on the ground, their skin battered and bruised.
Alyn stood among them, her child gone. The acolytes would be there before sunset, and they would want a sacrifice to take with them. Smiling, Alyn quietly awaited her fate.
***
The storm carried Katrina and her newfound savior to a boat just to the south of the little island. It gently deposited them on the deck before dissipating back into the aether.
The woman slumped onto the plankings, her chest heaving as though she’d been running for miles.
Katrina cowered in the corner of the boat, her eyes darting from place to place as the wind withered to a whisper around them.
“What’s your name, girl?” the woman asked.
“Katrina.”
“Have you ever been on the sea, Katrina?”
Katrina looked up at the woman. Her hair was black as coal, her eyes blue like crystals. Katrina hadn’t ever seen anyone so pale before. She shook her head no—she’d never been on the sea before—then quickly looked away from the glowing eyes.
“It’s beautiful out here, don’t you think? You can listen to the whispers on the wind out here. Sometimes when I’m lying in my skiff I can listen to the wind, and it will sing me to sleep.”
“You heard it? The wind sent you?” Katrina asked, her voice small and meek, even to her.
“It did indeed,” she said. She straightened against the side of the boat, her breath even and strong. She kept her movements slow to keep from frightening her new charge. “That was a very smart thing for you to do. I heard your whisper, and I came to take you away before the bad men in the white robes could do so.”
Katrina looked up shyly, still wary of the glowing woman in the purple dress. “My mama asked me to sing for her.”
“Your mama is a very smart woman.”
Katrina looked back out across the blue expanse, her eyes watering. “Did they hurt my mama?”
The woman laid a hand on Katrina’s arm, and the young girl looked up at her. The woman’s eyes were soft, and sad.
“Never forget what your mother did for you today, Katrina. She was a brave woman, and she loved you very much. She did everything she could to protect you. Never forget that.”
“I won’t,” Katrina said.
“Now then,” the woman said, straightening, “there are a great many things for us to accomplish before the day is out. First of all, we haven’t been properly introduced. I am Yanis.”
Katrina took Yanis’s hand and shook it. It was odd, touching a witch. Katrina had been told all of the stories about witches, and what they did to children, just like everyone else. But if she sang to the wind and brought Yanis to her, didn’t that make Katrina a witch as well?
“Second, your first lesson. You have a lot to learn about being a witch, and there is no better time to start than right now.”
Katrina nodded up at her, feeling as though Yanis was waiting for a reply.
“Everyone has something that they are very good at, something that makes them different from everyone else around them. Sometimes it’s something small, like being good with animals. Other times it’s something large, like being able to move a crowd with your song. It’s the same for witches. Some are better with earth or fire. Some are better with healing and mind control. A very few witches are equally good at all of the arts, and become teachers. We call them mothers.”
“Are you a mother?”
She laughed, patting the little girl on her head. “Yes, I’ve been called that a time or two.”
“Then what is your special talent?”
“I am a far seer.”
“Far seer? Does that mean you can see the future?”
“Oh no; no one can see the future. Not really. The future is like a knot that keeps unraveling, never quite untied enough to see the insides until it becomes today. But sometimes I get glimpses of things. Not really a sight but more like a very strong feeling of what can be.”
The little girl started chewing her lip, trying to figure out what all those words meant, but it really didn’t make a lot of sense to her.
Mother Yanis laughed, a rich sound that rang with true mirth. Something told the little girl that the laugh wasn’t heard very often and she should feel privileged to have heard it.
“How about I show you,” Mother Yanis said.
The little girl nodded, smiling brightly.
“Come here, little one,” she said and helped the girl up onto a short trunk where she could stand straight and tall.
“Now then, don’t move while I get a good look at you,” Yanis instructed.
The girl opened her eyes wide, not wanting to miss anything as Yanis lifted a hand before her face.
Her fingers were short and fat, wrinkled from many years of hard work. Sun spotted and wind rusted. But when her fingers touched the young girl’s face, they were soft as lamb skin.
Yanis traced her fingers over the contours of Katrina’s face. A tingle of energy shot through her spine, but it was odd. The power didn’t come from Yanis’s fingers but rather from the waves around them. As though the energy sought a place inside Yanis to call its own. But first it had to go through the girl to get there.
“Hmmm…” said Mother Yanis. “You have a lot of potential.”
“Potential?”
“Yes, indeed. I see a lot of paths laid out before you, and many of them cross over one another. That means you will be faced with a lot of choices in your future. Perhaps that means you will learn a great many magics and become a mother, like me.”
“I’m going to be a mother?” Katrina said, lifting up on the tips of her toes and clapping in glee.
Yanis laid her hands on the girl’s shoulders, pressing her down and giving her a stern look.
“Remember, they are only possibilities, not assurances. Being a mother takes a lot of effort and study. You won’t be able to call yourself a mother for centuries. Even then, you may not achieve it in your lifetime, for to be a mother is to be a leader among our people. A teacher to the young witches who come into your care. A guide to others.”
The girl lowered her eyes, thinking hard.
“I think I want to do that,” she said.
“Oh, so easily?”
“You saved me. You did that because you are a mother. No one else could have gotten me out of the crowd.”
“You might be right,” Yanis said with a dark look. “The acolytes are quite powerful. We can’t always stop them anymore. It took a lot of magic to get you out of there safely.”
“I want to do that,” the girl said. “I want to save girls just like me someday. The more magic I know, the better chance I will have, right?”
Yanis smiled. “Yes, true.”
“Then I’d like to be a mother some day.”
“Well then, let’s start you on your journey, why don’t we?”
Mother Yanis helped the girl down from the trunk, patting her on the head.
“Have you thought of a new name?” Yanis asked.
“A new name?”
“Every witch is born to their mother and father, who gives them a name to live among the islands. But when we are cast out, many of our number take a new name for their new life. You don’t have to, of course, but it is something you might consider.”
“A new name,” the girl whispered. They sailed in silence for some time, the young girl deep in thought. As the sun began to set over the sea the girl looked up. “How about Salvia?”
“Salvia?” Yanis asked. “Like salvation, from the old tongue?”
“Yes, I want to save people just like you saved me.”
Yanis smiled again. “Yes, I think that will do nicely.”