At night, the Atis Beauty, with her sails furled, quietly left the harbor, and, like an offshore fishing-boat, anchored and moored in the wide waters five miles from Belle Mayo, treading the waves and floating.
There were suddenly two new members on the ship, a Roma witch who was always on her toes, never leaving Haina's side, and a white-eared black cat who was obediently and coquettishly lying on Lorraine's lap, meowing and acting adorably.
In Pierce's mind, this is unusual ...
Whether it's leading a dangerous person like a witch onto a ship or sailing away from the harbor for no reason, everything is not normal.
He was absentmindedly tossing a salad in the kitchen when he suddenly saw the burly Kron sneaking into the cabin with the sneaky demeanor of a polar bear digging for bird eggs.
"Mr. Scott, this is ..."
"Uh-huh." Keren straightened his back and cleared his throat, "What's for dinner tonight, little Pierce?"
"The main course was Grandma Lorraine's tomato lettuce butter salad with wasabi tuna, the catering was stout and orange juice, and the appetizer was deviled eggs."
"KAM! Devil!" Keren's white face swished pale, "Devil Devil Devil ... Devil so soon?"
Pierce rolled his eyes violently, lifted a plate of yellow-cored, fury-contested morsels on a white background from the table and shoved it into Kron's hand, repeating in an accented voice, "Deviled eggs, deviled eggs for Halloween!"
"Devil ... eggs?"
Keren froze at the egg in his hand for a long moment, a square face turning white to red, red to red, red to slightly purple, and smoke coming out of his ears.
He uttered half a dozen words and whispered, "Little Pierce, you and the captain are on good terms. What do you say, how could the captain let a witch on board?"
"It is the captain's prerogative to select the crew, and not even God can intervene."
"But that's a witch alas! With a black cat, and a cloak, and a strange appearance, and murmuring, and a great cauldron at the head of the house, in which lizards, and bats, and spiders, and vipers are boiled ... is this kind of witch alas!"
Pierce looked at Keren helplessly.
"Mr. Scott, the white ears seem to prefer captains who can fish, and the one in the boat with the cloak is Ms. Ysra, and it's my job to cook in the cauldron, and there's never been any lizards, bats, spiders, or venomous snakes."
"As for mumbling ... there used to be none on board, but now there is a Teutonic shipwright. And ugly ... Ms. Sara was dirty when she first came aboard, but after washing her face, in your conscience, is she ugly?"
Keren flourished with dislike and stammered, stammered, "But she's a witch!"
Pierce wiped his hands and untied his apron, "Mr. Scott, if you really care so much, why don't you just ask the Captain?"
"I asked ..."
"What did Mr. Captain say?"
Keren took a deep breath, "He said witch was an honorific and witch was a slander. And the one on the boat is a witch, not a witch ..."
"Did you understand that?"
"Would I have come to you if I had understood?"
Pierce sighed rather understandably, "It's actually something I secretly asked about."
"What did the captain tell you?"
"He said ... to eat lighter for the next two days and that he might see blood on board."
Keren's eyes slowly widened.
He muttered, "The captain has abducted a witch, and the devil really is coming ..."
...
Lorraine, who abducted the witch, is fishing.
He sat cross-legged on the bow deck, four fishing poles erected in front of him like a scattering of flowers, his boneless white ears sprawled in his lap, his twin knives flat at his side, and behind him the Scott crossbow with its tarpaulin uncovered and angled toward the sky.
The swimmers in Biscayne Bay were fishing well, four rods down, two already biting, bright white buoys sinking to the bottom, but Lorraine had no intention of starting.
White Ears is a foodie, catch one, eat one, and at this point has already eaten a dog cod and a tiny sardine, and if he proceeds to start the rod, the little guy is afraid that he'll be too propped up to walk, which is not good for his stomach.
Waiting in this bored manner until the third pole sank its mark, Lorraine finally heard a footstep.
The person who came was Hina.
Though Hina never walked without sound, she followed Noa behind her, so naturally she followed out.
Noa washed herself clean, plain white little hands, clean little face, curly hair on the tip of the water droplets that have not been shaken off, crystal clear in the moonlight, for the owner of the hair to add a few points of flattery, always have some Roma women's flavor.
Lorraine waved at Noa.
Noa walked onto the deck, biting her lip as she stood behind Lorraine.
"Are you used to being on a ship?"
"It's the first time we've been to sea, but Roma are naturally adapted to all means of transportation, a gift from our ancestors." Noa replied in a small voice.
"It's good that you don't get seasick." Lorraine picked up the white ears and shoved them back into Noa's hand, "Witches and black cats are a good match, the little one always relies on me, causing the fish to come off the hook."
"Meow!" The little guy whined disgruntledly, stomped toward Noa's shoulder, and scurried into the bilge in a puff of smoke.
Lorraine, dumbfounded, stood up and rose out a huge tuna, black-backed and white-bellied, with green vertical stripes, thirty pounds or so to say the least, flopping desperately on the deck, slapping out a snapping sound.
Haina picked at its gill covers with a single slash, picking it up and dropping it into a bucket of water, then returned the knife to its sheath and sat down against Lorraine's spot.
"You're going to use a fishing spear gun?"
"Being prepared depends on how many of them come."
Hina nodded, "When do you think they'll come?"
"Tonight? Or to-morrow night?" Lorraine laughed as she put on the bait and reset the rod, "The Romulans are vagabonds of the land, and they would not dare to delay too long nor be blatant in trying to snatch a man from the vagabonds of the sea."
"It should be tonight." Noa suddenly interjected, "Mrs. Alfonso could convince the Viscount at any moment that without the Crystal Ball of Fate, the cousins can't do the divination and will be thrown out."
"So we'll see tonight ...," Lorraine looked meaningfully at the calm sea, "Noa, can you lend me your crystal ball?"
"Eh?"
"If it conflicts with Roma customs ..."
"No, it's just that most people will turn away from the tools of Witch Divination, so ...," Noa stammered, hurriedly pulling the crystal ball out of the cloth bag, cupping it in both hands, and handing it to Lorraine.
Lorraine took it solemnly.
The crystal ball was heavy, weighing about five or six pounds, yet it was only the size of an orange to hold.
Lorraine held it aloft close to the moon, and through the moonlight, saw dense hairline patterns in the dark purple sphere with its glossy exterior.
The distribution of these lines is peculiar, forming either wide or narrow, thin or thick light-blocking bands in the sphere.
The light passes through the translucent sphere and becomes uneven in intensity, and the moon in the sphere ripples, like the reflection in the water when it is about to break.
Lorraine's heart was clear, knowing that Noa's sorcery was indeed as he had previously thought, some kind of conscious hypnosis using light and shadow ...
It was thought that the Romsala clan had been exhausting their wits for generations trying to figure out how to utilize the natural hair strands in the Crystal Ball of Fate, and that if another ball was used to cast the spells, the effectiveness of their sorcery would surely be greatly diminished.
In other words, the Crystal Ball of Fate is an irreplaceable component of the Romsala division of sorcery.
Lorraine smacked her lips and solemnly handed the crystal ball back to Noa.
He saw Pierce beckoning from the transom cabin with a dinner tray and said, "Go eat. Eat up so you can stay up late ..."