A Sprinkle of Sorcery by Michelle Harrison

A Sprinkle of Sorcery by Michelle Harrison

Author:Michelle Harrison [Harrison, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster UK


Chapter Seventeen

Through the Spyglass

BETTY DIDN’T KNOW HOW LONG she watched for, but she waited until the little green boat was the size of her thumbnail before it followed Ronia’s ship behind the row of rocks from which it had first emerged. Would it stay there? she wondered. Or would Fliss and Willow be caught up in Ronia’s plundering plans?

Betty sank down on to the wreck, hugging her knees to her chest. Everything ached: her legs from standing so stiffly for so long, her arms from the swim, her empty stomach and her pounding head. Her heart.

She was sore, too. Criss-crossed with cat scratches. Wincing, she peeled off the bloodstained shirt.

Spit snatched it, his scowl deepening. ‘What am I supposed to do with this?’ He wrung it out, his lip curling in distaste.

‘You might as well wear it,’ said Betty, her voice flat. ‘There’s no one out here but me to see you, anyway. It’ll keep you warm, at least . . .’ She trailed off weakly. ‘When it’s dry.’

‘Right.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘I think I’ve forgotten what “dry” feels like.’ He spread the shirt out once more in the sun, eyeing it thoughtfully. ‘I suppose I could string it up next to the sign. A bit of blood works wonders at keeping people away.’

‘Mmm,’ Betty agreed, remembering Ronia’s reaction to the bloodied shirt. She prodded her scratches gingerly. ‘I thought our cat at home was a beast until I met Bandit.’

Spit ignored her, clearly in no mood for small talk. He sat a little way apart, swinging his legs over the side to dangle towards the water. He took the package he’d been thrown and began to unwrap it, discarding a layer of waxed paper. Inside lay a golden cob of bread, two apples and a wedge of cheese. Betty’s tummy gurgled loudly, but she looked away. She wasn’t expecting Spit’s charity and she wasn’t about to ask for it. Even so, the crisp crunch as he bit into an apple was torture.

‘You know,’ he began, ‘it’d probably help us both out if I could see you.’

Betty turned back to him. To her surprise, he was offering the second apple in his outstretched hand, albeit not quite at her.

‘Oh,’ she muttered, wishing the dolls worked differently. If she tampered with the outer nesting doll containing the smaller ones, she would render not only herself visible, but Willow and Fliss, too. ‘I can’t let you. I mean, not without giving the others away, too.’ Besides, for all she knew, Spit might be about to trick her. Would he punish her, push her overboard for her part in his being left here? The apple gleamed rosily in the sun. She reached out and took it warily, then sank her teeth into it.

‘That really is creepy,’ Spit muttered, shuddering. ‘I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.’

‘You don’t have to like it,’ said Betty, between crunches. She wiped juice from her chin. ‘Why’d you give this to me, anyway? You just said we weren’t friends.



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