“Yes,” Iconfirmed. “I’ll need something to steep it with, as well.”
Theodora letgo of my arm and climbed up the first two steps of a thick, woodenladder. “The thing about pure chamomile is that it’s too potent.You must mix it with something.” She scanned the shelf in front ofher pointed nose and pulled out a large stone jar. “White tea. Fromthe Caribbean. Just a mild, loose tea and, when mixed withchamomile, will lull you into a warm, comfortable sleep.”
“I’ll takeit,” I told her. “Thank you.”
Her stick-likelegs lowered her to the floor, and she set the jar on a butcherblock top before strolling over to another set of shelves, this onewith wiry racks of tiny vials. “And lavender. It’s also pure andstrong. Only use a dab here or there. A little behind the ear orrub on a pillow.” Her eyebrows raised in wait as she urged me toacknowledge.
“Yes, ofcourse. I’ll be sure to remember that.” I craned my neck to findLottie who was circling the store, mindlessly searching through thecontents on shelves and tables.
“You know,sometimes changing the room in which we sleep can help withrestlessness.” Theodora’s thin fingers gently opened jars andpoured oils, mixing and wrapping, packing my ingredients in smallervessels. “Blocking out any light from a window, making the bed moresuitable. Those kinds of things.”
“Thanks, butI’m staying at a tavern, so the sleeping conditions are what theyare,” I told her reluctantly.
“Oh? Avisitor, then? What fine establishment are you staying with?”
“The Kraken’sDen. Near the docks. My crew and I pulled in just a couple of daysago.” I noticed Lottie come back within sight, stepping to my sidewith a curious stance.
She gentlygrabbed my arm and pulled me off to the side. “Do not tell anyonewhere we are staying, Dianna,” she whispered loudly.
I was about toprotest. I hadn’t really given up any dire information. But then Igave it a second thought. That Wallace guy. Henry had said everypirate who pulls into port was expected to report to Wallace andpay a duty. We’d been avoiding the trip because Henry claimed wedidn’t have time for the distraction. I began to wonder then, whatsort of distraction it would really cause. I shrugged it off.There’s no way the old-world pharmacist could tell that we werepirates. We were dressed like upstanding ladies. But, one look atTheodora, the sudden appearance of a sly grin across her wrinkledface, told me that she’d been prying for information.
I gave her alook of disappointment but said nothing other than, “How much forthe goods?”
After we paid,I walked out of the shop with a heavy cloud over my head. Henryseemed concerned with avoiding Wallace and I’d never really askedwhy. Not for details, anyway. But I couldn’t help but feel that I’ddone something seriously wrong back there. The repercussions ofwhich I didn’t even know.
“Do you thinkI said too much?” I asked Lottie as we walked side by side down thewide cobblestone alley toward the smaller shops and merchanttents.
She seemed toponder on it for a moment. “No, I’m sure it’s fine. I just had abad feeling about that woman.”
“Theodora?” Iconfirmed and then stopped as something in one of closer tentscaught my eye. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
I broke freeof our stride and headed for the long, wooden counter. Its surfacewas covered in rustic trays of mismatched items. Brooches, rings,books, small weapons. A hand-painted sign read POST. A trading post! Likean old-school pawn shop. But ofall the fantastical trinkets, only one really caught my eye. Mytrembling hand reached out a plucked a ring from its display. Agolden band with an emerald nestled in a claw.
Henry’smother’s wedding ring.
My breathcaught in my throat as I turned the piece of jewelry over in myhands, examining and making sure it truly was the long-losttreasure. It was. I’d know it a mile away. Tears welled in my eyes and I looked to themerchant.
“Where did youget this?”
The man, agedand weathered, took stock of the item I held. “That?” he started,“Someone came through last week and traded it.” He moaned as heleaned down behind the counter and lifted a small wooden crate.“That and everything in here.”
I peered inand a gasp escaped my throat. A ship-in-a-bottle, a black leatherjournal, a compass, and other things. Henry’s things. My free handreached in and scooped up the model ship, noting the inscription.H.W.W. My blood began to boil with anger. These were all aboard TheDevil’s Heart when it sunk to the bottom of the harbor.
“Who broughtyou these things?” I demanded angrily. Lottie was by my sidethen.
The oldmerchant appeared panicked. “I-I am not sure, Miss,” hestammered.
“Yes, you do!”I yelled and grabbed the small crate, clutching it to my chest, thetears slowly escaping and dribbling down my one cheek. These werethe only things left from my first home in 1707 before it wassavagely burned and sunk to the bottom of Harbour Grace. “You saidthey came through just last week.”
“What’s goingon?” Lottie asked me.
“This stuff,”I muttered, still angry. “It’s Henry’s! All of it. From The Devil’sHeart.”
My emotionswere bubbling over and it was all I could do to contain them. Iknew scavengers went to the site where it sank, but seeing thesethings brought back some memories. Both good and bad. Flashes ofimages danced through my mind; getting yanked from the sea, beinglocked in the storage hold, the gunshot and the cook.
Then my mindwent to Henry and how I slowly peeled back the layers and fell inlove with the man I found. My time on The Devil’s Heart was arollercoaster of events and it brought me to him. It’s whereeverything started. But what were the chances the belongings wouldend up there? In a place where I was looking for my sister. It hadto have been her.
Lottie pluckeda dagger from her hidden garter and discreetly held it out, pointedtoward the man. Her face twisted with sheer intimidation. “Tell mewho gave this to you or I’ll take you out back and gut you fromyour nose down.”
The merchant’seyes widened in horror and he held up in his hands in defeat.“Look, I do not wish for
