Witch of The Indies by David C. Smith

Author:David C. Smith [Smith, David C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sci Fi & Fantasy
Publisher: Zebra Books
Published: 1977-06-25T23:00:00+00:00

Alicia knew what had occurred. In her sleep that night her spirit had floated freely, and vaguely, mistily but surely—the way we are impressed by the distant actions of dreams in fevers—she was aware of the Ceremony to Damballah, aware of Anne’s possession by Ogu-Badagri, aware of Kate’s interference in Vulmea’s behalf. And she was aware that her father now knew who was the evil power responsible for the haunting premonitions of the past several days.

And when Vulmea had thrown the ring overboard, Alicia suffered a mild shock, a jerking sensation in her heart, the current of her will cut off and thrown back at her.

She walked the deck of the Morte Noire this morning, pondering these things privately. Well, then, she considered—even if Vulmea has destroyed the ring—even if Kate had somehow reversed the strength of her magic doll—these were only a small part of her sorcery. And they had served her purposes enough for now. The Raven would be sailing under clear skies and making for the Main. Yet Alicia held no worry that Dargot’s ship might not overtake him. Her spirits yet guarded and guided her.

As the dawn mists lifted and the true morning light filled the air, voices called out from topmast and wharf, lines were thrown loose, skiffs rowed ashore a last time. The Morte Noire’s sails unfurled gallantly and the stiff winds filled them up; cordage creaked, spars shivered, sailors hurried all over the decks. And Dargot and his crew steered out from Port Royal and tacked westerly before the breeze.

The Frenchman, with Tom Royle in his wake, took the way to the foredeck and approached the witch woman.

“How long a time until we meet Terence le Vulmea’s boat?” he asked.

“Not so long, I promise you this, mon capitain.”

“How long in days?” Dargot persisted. He seemed to sway a bit, standing there, and not from the rolling of the ship. Either he still was drunk from his night before, or he was keeping steadily at the rum.

“This many,” Alicia answered coolly. “One day and one night.”

“I have not much of the crew, lady witch. Not many of the men will sail with me this time.”

“You will not need too many of these men, Capitain Dargot.”

Dargot eyed the skies, snorted the air. “We have the good wind,” he pronounced. “But if le Vulmea be days forward of us—”

“He sail under this wind,” Alicia told him frankly. “We will sail under a different wind. I have spirits, you see, who will fill these sails with wind and make us go on the waves more fast than le Vulmea can sail.”

Dargot did not directly reply. His eyes were dull and a defensive sneer curled his lips. “All right, then,” he finally spoke; “I give you one day and a night for to reach me to le Vulmea.” He turned, ignoring Tom Royle, and went down to the waist and to his cabin.

Royle grinned maliciously. “He needs more rum, Alicia. He can’t face the spirits otherwise, methinks.”

“Aye, my Tom.

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