Sammy followed the young servant, her eyes constantly scanning the surroundings. At one point, she paused to watch the center of the hall, where an orchestra played a lively minuet and the patrons danced with elegantly dressed courtesans, following the steps and rhythm of the melody. The girl observed the scene with delight—it reminded her of one of those risqué novels by Liza Haywood—and her ears relished the music… until she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to find Kayin motioning for her to follow him.
At last, they arrived at a door. The boy knocked and opened it to let her in. The room was dim, the shutters tightly closed. Aunt Betty sat with her back to the door. Sammy stepped inside cautiously, nervous, and only heard the door shut behind her. The woman raised her hand and gestured for her to sit across from her. Sammy obeyed, still slightly uneasy.
"I knew your grandfather… not in person," Aunt Betty began. "We corresponded for a while, purely out of academic interest… as you'd expect from a writer. What are you looking for?"
"I was advised to come to you because you're said to know about divinatory arts."
Madame Betty smiled.
"And what makes you think I know about such things?"
"It's well known that you're famous… and that you master those skills."
"I know a little. It's a gift… What do you wish to know?"
Sammy took a deep breath to summon courage.
"I want to know where my grandfather is…"
"Your grandfather? Did he go off on some adventure to find inspiration for a new novel? I just hope it's better than his last one…"
"No, ma'am. He was kidnapped by the Spanish… or so I suspect."
The woman studied her, searching for any clue in the young girl's face.
"I see," she finally said. "I'll need an item that belonged to your grandfather to begin the ritual."
Sammy gave a shy smile, then pressed her lips together and looked down.
"It's just… I don't have much money. I fled Tiburón Bay when it was invaded by the Spanish. I only have what I'm wearing. But I promise I'll return with payment as soon as I can."
The witch smiled beatifically.
"Don't worry… I understand the trauma you've been through. I respect your grandfather, and I'll do it without asking for payment… though any offering you can spare will be enough."
Sammy exhaled, pulled out a small leather pouch, and showed her a few doubloons given to her by François Percy. She placed them on the table. The witch took the coins, counted them, and set them on a tray.
"All right then, let's look into your problem… We can use the pendulum method, which will help us locate him, but I'll need something that belonged to your grandfather."
The girl reached into her leather satchel and pulled out the journal. She set it carefully on the table, as if afraid it might vanish from her hands. Aunt Betty looked at it with curiosity, picked it up, and opened it. She began examining its pages. As she read, her brow furrowed, and her eyebrows rose in surprise. Several pages were written in Elvish.
"What do you know about this notebook?" she asked, concealing her interest behind a calm demeanor.
"My grandfather collected old books," Sammy replied. "I found it among his things."
Aunt Betty nodded.
"I read many of your grandfather's works… I always found them charming and entertaining," she said as she stood and walked to a bookshelf. She pulled out a volume, brought it to the table, and placed it in front of Sammy.
The girl looked at it and recognized it immediately: it was the last book her grandfather had written under a pseudonym.
"Do you recognize it?"
Sammy bit her lip.
"You can tell me. We're in confidence… It's your grandfather's, isn't it?"
The young woman sighed.
"Yes. There's no use hiding it. He published it under a pen name to see if he'd have better luck getting accepted by a publisher in Amsterdam. But… it wasn't the success he had hoped for."
The witch smiled.
"I always suspected it the moment I started reading. His style is unmistakable. Do you know what's most interesting about this novel? I'm sure it's based on what's written in this journal."
"How do you know that?" asked Sammy, surprised.
"Your grandfather asked for my help to decipher several pages of the journal. We corresponded often, as you yourself saw," she said while flipping through the pages with great interest, examining the strange script and illustrations.
Then she added:
"There's no doubt your grandfather was kidnapped by the Spanish. Perhaps it was because of what he wrote in his last novel."
"But it's all fiction!" Sammy exclaimed.
"Apparently… but they don't seem to think so," Madame Betty replied gravely.
"But… what motive could they have?"
"That journal you carry holds many dark secrets… It would be useful to understand it. I can help you."
Sammy smiled.
"All I care about is finding out where my grandfather is."
"I understand. Tell me… What's your name?"
"Samantha… or Sammy."
"I thought you were a boy!"
The young woman smiled.
"You're right to disguise yourself as one. These places aren't safe for women."
Aunt Betty closed the journal and gently placed it in the center of the table, running her fingers softly over its cover. The gesture caught Sammy's attention.
"I have many contacts in the Caribbean, even in New Spain. I'm willing to help you… You may stay here as long as you wish."
Sammy smiled.
"I appreciate your hospitality, Madame Betty."
"Call me Aunt Betty… 'Madame' is for those who don't know me—or owe me money."
"Thank you, but I don't want to be a bother or an inconvenience."
"You're no bother at all," said Aunt Betty. "Let's have a cup of tea. And if you'd like to change out of those rags…"
"Would it be possible to have my boots back?"
"Of course. I'll have them brought to you immediately. Make yourself at home… and we'll perform the pendulum ritual shortly."
Sammy gave a broad smile of gratitude. Aunt Betty picked up a small bell and rang it. Soon, the servant Kayin entered.
"Kayin, serve our guest, Sammy, some tea. Make her feel at home—and bring her boots at once."
The boy nodded, but first leaned toward Aunt Betty and whispered in her ear:
"The Tedeschi have arrived outside."
Aunt Betty nodded and dismissed him with a stern gesture.
"I'll go attend to something. I'll be back in a minute. We'll have tea and do the ritual."
With that, Aunt Betty left the room, leaving Sammy alone. She took the chance to wander around the parlor. She approached the bookshelf and began reading the titles along the spines. She pulled out one that looked older than the British Empire itself. She read the title: De re coquinaria (On the Art of Cooking) by Marcus Gavius Apicius. She opened it. It was a treatise on the culinary arts of ancient Rome, written in Latin. The girl smiled and began to leaf through it.