The Witch's Patron

Chapter 6

"I hear our favorite lady has come home," Dak Owusua boomed as his daughter tromped noisily into his office a short time later. "Right on time, as usual."

"Hey now." Noori placed a hand on her hip and pouted. "I thought I was your favorite lady."

"You're my favorite everythng, period," her father said, deftly defusing the situation as only a father could. He smiled with one side of his mouth, too focused on his task to notice that the other corner stubbornly refused to budge. Noori watched with a fond smile of her own as he carefully poured water from the small china jug normally reserved for cream into the soil of Minty's tea plant. He had cleared a spot on the cluttered windowsill for it where it could bask in as much sunlight as it desired.

"I hope that thing is prettier after it blooms," Noori said, wrinkling her nose.

"You think it's ugly?" Her father sounded genuinely surprised. "I quite like the little beast. I think it has a certain charm."

Noori came around the wide wooden desk, just as cluttered as every other surface in the office, and gave her father's cheek a quick kiss. "Of course you do, Papa. It's got a face only a sailor could love."

"We should name it."

"How about... Splunk?"

"Ha! Perhaps I'll think on it some more," her father scratched his beard and smiled with both corners of his mouth this time. His eyes found the vibrant scarf wrapped around his daughter's hair and his brows jumped up. "That's new."

"How kind of you to notice." Noori made a point of preening as she teased. "It was a gift from your favorite lady, along with some fresh oil. She says she brought you something too, but you have to go and get it yourself."

Her father chuckled, a hearty sound that came straight from his belly that morphed into a couple barking coughs that he covered with his fist. "What a woman."

Noori dropped like a sack of potatoes into her father's chair while he continued to tend to his still-nameless plant. She scanned the open ledgers and assortment of nautical maps that spilled across the desk, evidence of yet another busy day. She admired the way her father always found a bit of peace in what was an otherwise demanding job – the way he never seemed fussed by the constant flow of people through his office door with their questions and problems and complaints. He was a guiding light in this busy port; he was his daughter's hero.

She fished Halcyon's report out of her leather satchel and went about the regular business of adding its details to their files.

"What became of Toddrick?" she asked without looking up from her work. "You didn't put him to work, did you?"

"He went home for a change of clothes," her father said, straightening up and turning his attention away from the plant. He smothered another couple of coughs in the crook of his elbow. "As I understand, the two of you already have plans."

There was a note of insinuation beneath his words that was impossible to miss. Noori gave her father a withering glare. "Don't."

"Don't what?" He gave her a practiced scandalized look.

"Don't use that..." Noori's hand fluttered vaguely. "That tone. Toddrick and I always have a pint at the Siren before he sails. Because we're friends." She emphasized the word, drawing it out purposefully.

Her father clicked his tongue. "When will the two of you stop playing this game and just come out with it already?"

The contents of Noori's stomach turned to ice. "Come out with what, exactly?"

Her father narrowed his eyes and surveyed her as if trying to decide whether she was playing dumb. She wasn't, but now she was worried. Had Toddrick said something to him?