CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
It was winter in the city of Alliaster, and the jacarandas were bare. The colossal trees, planted in the previous century, had survived the flood and were now sprinkled here and there with the remnants of sea salt. They lined the boulevard and cast gentle shadows over the capital.
For the second time, Dot arrived in the city in search of the witch, Theodora.
Now, however, the young woman was not distracted by the dazzle of the metropolis, nor the trams nor the tourist attractions; she stepped out of the portal and straight onto the corner of Wren Court and Ethel Avenue.
The witch could have been, for all Dot knew, up at the Ollianne Shrine, or down at the factory on Stirrup Street, or across the city in the houses of parliament.
She could have been in the art studio or in her study at the Royal Palace.
Yet, there was Theodora, stood in the rubble of the tea shop with Belchamber beside her, both of them peering at a sheet of drafter’s paper and the building plans inked atop it.
Theodora looked up, startled for only a moment, before a ray of warmth broke out over her countenance. Dot smiled and said, ‘You’ve no house for me to break into this time.’
‘If I did,’ said Theodora, leaping gracefully over the rubble and broken bricks, ‘I wouldn’t dare cast you out of it.’
The witch pulled her apprentice into a fierce hug while Belchamber watched on, teary-eyed.
They stayed that way a long time, until at last the spirit came to them and took Dot’s hand.
The young witch wiped her face on her sleeve and smiled as Theodora showed her the diagrams of the new tea shop, which already included the bedroom they had set aside especially for her.