by Kim Falconer
Rosette squeezed Nell tightly. ‘It’s good to be here.’
‘Where are your things?’
Rosette untangled herself from the embrace and looked into Nell’s eyes. ‘This is all I’ve got.’
‘Leave in a hurry, did you, Kalindi Rose?’
Rosette shuddered. She glanced over her shoulder then back to Nell. ‘Don’t say that name.’
Nell searched her face. ‘What’s this about?’
‘I’m…’ She blanched, her hands beginning to tremble. ‘I’m Rosette now, Rosette de Santo. You mustn’t say my birth name again.’
‘Why ever not?’
Rosette looked down at her feet, tears falling. ‘Something…something terrible’s happened.’
‘I can see that.’
Nell gathered her into her arms again and held her tight. The garden went strangely silent for a moment and Rosette felt a warmth flooding her body, chasing away the fear and hurt. When Nell let her go, the garden came back to life, abuzz with chatter.
‘Come inside, Rosette. You’re exhausted. You need to eat, and rest.’
‘Thank you, Nell. I am a bit dizzy. I don’t know if I can eat.’
‘We’ll see about that.’
Rosette took off her boots, lining them up on the porch next to Nell’s, and crossed the threshold. The smells of baking bread, cinnamon, mint and roast meat did seem inviting. They sat at the black oak table, side by side, and held hands.
‘Tell me what happened, Rosette. What are you running from?’
Rosette felt tears welling again as she reported the events, stuttering when she came to the kitchen scene. Nell didn’t speak, nor did she let go of her hands. She drew Rosette out of her chair and into her lap, rocking her gently. Rosette let her tears fall and they ran down her face, mixing with Nell’s.
‘You did right to disappear,’ Nell said, stirring a cast-iron pot.
It simmered on the hearth, making Rosette’s mouth water. They had just returned from an early-morning walk—a good night’s sleep reviving her spirits, and her appetite.
‘If someone wanted to punish John’ra that’s one thing, and it’s done, but if they wanted…something else, that’s another matter altogether.’
Rosette washed her hands in the basin, drying them with a brightly coloured kitchen towel. ‘What do you mean, something else?’
‘Just speculation.’ Nell frowned. ‘Did you speak to anyone in Dumarka?’
‘I came straight here.’
‘You remembered the way?’
‘Easy, though I’d forgotten how far it was.’
‘It’s not so easy for just anyone,’ Nell said. She opened the oven door and a wave of heat and bakery aromas poured out. ‘Did you use your family name on the ship or at the harbour in Flureon?’
‘Only de Santo, if that.’
‘You’ve done well, sweetheart.’
Nell turned to the pantry beside the stove and took butter and cheese from the cold box and set them out on the table. Rosette got out plates and cups.
‘But, Nell, why did this happen? Do you know?’
Nellion smoothed her dress before putting her hands on her hips. ‘There are enemies in the world, Rosette.’
‘Enemies?’
‘Come. Eat first. I need to think. Plenty of time for philosophy later.’
Rosette frowned. ‘Philosophy?’
‘Philosophy and speculation. That’s all anything is, second-hand.’
While Nell prepared the food, Rosette leaned back in her chair. Her face relaxed as she scanned the cottage, taking it in properly for the first time. The rows of books by the back wall had increased since she’d last visited. Leather-bound volumes of various shapes and sizes were stacked on shelves that climbed halfway to the ceiling. A four-poster bed with crimson cushions and a purple velvet quilt filled the far corner. Woven rugs covered the hardwood floor, cushions were scattered about, and various herbs hung from the beams over the kitchen, adding a mix of earthy fragrance to the cottage.
She spotted the mobiles of planets circling above in miniature orbits around bright orange suns. The broad window seat where she’d slept was covered with quilts, warm and comfortable on the far side of the hearth. Rosette had been warm and snug all night, even though the temperature dropped quickly once the sun set. The glowing coals had been a welcome heat. She studied the design of stained glass in the high windows to the east—they had amazed her early in the morning—the sunlight through them making a splash of rainbows when she awoke.
Her gaze was drawn directly overhead, and she started. ‘Nell!’ She shrank back. ‘What’s that?’
Hanging from the rafters, its body draped in serpentine loops around the wooden beams, was a huge yellow-and-black-speckled snake.
‘Who is that,’ Nell corrected.
Rosette swallowed, not taking her eyes off the animal. ‘Who, then?’
‘It’s Mozzie.’
‘Mozzie?’
‘Short for Mosaic. He’s a carpet snake, of course, a python. Don’t you have them in Lividica?’
‘Not like that.’
‘Like what?’
‘Not like that big. And not in the house.’
‘Well, Mozzie lives inside.’
‘He was there last night? Watching me sleep?’
‘More likely he was under your bed. You’ll get used to him.’
Rosette didn’t reply.
‘He keeps the rodents down, among other things.’ Nell ladled porridge into blue ceramic bowls. ‘Still hungry, aren’t you?’
Rosette cleared her throat and nodded.
Nell swept away her books and notes, stacking them on a small desk before laying out the bowls, fresh milk, bread and honey.
Rosette sighed as she turned her attention to the meal. ‘Very hungry,’ she answered, glancing back up at Mozzie.
Nell smiled, toasting her with a mug of spiced cider.
‘To warm reunions.’
Rosette raised her mug and smiled, the cider sweet on her lips.
‘I see you got away with your travelling charm,’ Nell said, studying her necklace.
‘Jarrod got it out of the house for me.’
‘Who’s that?’
‘Jarrod Cossica—he’s my best friend…What’s wrong?’
Nell’s brow was knitted. ‘I remember a man with that name many years ago. Is he…’
‘Old?’ Rosette laughed. ‘He’s my age—just a boy really. He grew up next door.’
‘Not him, then.’ Nell blew on a spoonful of porridge. ‘Is he Cossica’s oldest son?’
‘No, that’s Liam. Jarrod is the youngest.’
‘I don’t remember him.’
‘He’s a foundling.’
‘And is this foundling of yours the only one who knows you’re here?’
‘Him, and possibly Liam. There are few secrets between them, though he said he’d tell no-one.’
‘What about your sisters?’
Rosette shook her head. ‘Both married. Leea’s on a sheep farm near Dumar. She probably hasn’t even heard yet.’
‘And Sasha?’
‘Under Mount Pele, with a glassblower. Three kids now.’
Nell was silent, her eyes drifting to the window. ‘I warned your mother that it wasn’t safe.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Rosette, your mother may have had enemies too.’
Rosette stopped eating. ‘I don’t understand. She was just a matron, looking after the estate. How could she have enemies? She’d turned her back on witchcraft.’
Nell raised her brows. ‘Had she?’
‘Pardon?’
‘Do you really believe she repressed her power to mould herself around John’ra’s life?’
‘She didn’t?’
‘No, my dear Rosette. She was hiding, and she wanted to hide you, too. I told her it would go ill if John’ra caught the public eye. If he was noticed, so would she be. There was no controlling him though, it seems.’
&nbs
p; ‘I thought someone was after John’ra. He owed money, I think.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Who would want to hurt mamá?’
Nell shook her head. ‘We can’t know for sure. The temples are not all at peace.’
‘Did she have some magic they wanted?’
Rosette thought she saw Nell stiffen, but when she looked again she was relaxed.
‘Anything’s possible. Meanwhile, you’re here and presumed dead. That’s as safe as it gets.’
‘Am I in danger, though?’ Rosette looked out the doorway as if at any moment someone would be coming up the path.
‘We’ll be vigilant. Besides, no-one gets to me without my knowing.’
‘That’s what Jarrod said.’
‘Did he?’
Nell lifted up her mug again. ‘A toast to a new life—for both of us.’
‘To a new life.’ Rosette clanked her mug against Nell’s. ‘Can I ask you something?’ Rosette felt heat rise in her face.
‘Anything.’
‘Since I’m here, and ready for a new beginning…will you teach me the things mamá forbade?’
‘Forbade?’ Nell stopped. Her spoon, laden with food, hovered halfway to her mouth.
‘She said I wasn’t ready, but I am,’ Rosette went on. ‘And I want to learn so much! Star-craft, herbs, spells, the sword and the bow—and shape-shifting. Definitely shape-shifting. Please may I? You can teach me. I know you can.’
‘Full of enthusiasm, aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘You fancy yourself a witch?’
‘Yes.’
Nell closed her eyes. ‘Why?’ she asked, keeping them shut.
Rosette put down her bread. ‘I just know it.’
‘You just know it,’ Nell repeated. ‘Good. Now tell me, how so?’
‘Because something…something is calling me, like the woods of Espiro Dell Ray, and the whispers of stones and the wind in the arroyos, and lately, it’s been more than a call.’
‘More than a call?’
‘It’s been a holler.’
Nell laughed, her eyes popping open. ‘And you want to answer the call?’
‘I do.’
‘Then you shall.’ She started eating again and nodded to Rosette to do the same.
‘Does that mean you’ll initiate me?’
‘It does.’
Rosette beamed a smile. ‘When can I start?’
‘There’s no rush.’
‘Nell, please. Give me a hint!’
‘You’ll have an entire lunar cycle—from waning to new, new to full, and waning again in the sign of the Water-Bearer—to prepare.’
‘On my lunar return?’
She nodded. ‘By the time the moon returns next month, you’ll have sought and acquired your initiation name.’
‘Rosette’s no good?’
‘Rosette’s fine. Very lovely. It’s perfect for all you meet and everything you do overtly. Your name as an initiate is different. It’s known to you alone, or shared only with another you fully trust.’
‘Okay.’
‘It’s sacred, Rosette. When you find it, keep it occult.’
‘I will.’
‘You must also choose the design of your initiation tattoo.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Though it’s more likely that it will choose you.’
Rosette’s eyes went wide, looking closely at the symbols on Nell’s bare arms—the raven on the left and a stout tree with serpents entwining the trunk on the right.
She sucked in her breath. ‘I’ve already done that.’
‘You have?’
Rosette glanced over to the bookcase where an onyx statuette of a temple cat sat, slender, regal and fey. The animal had large, pointed ears, the left one pierced with a golden ring. Its face was chiselled, limbs refined, the tail wrapped around its front feet.
Nell followed her line of sight and smiled.
‘Basta, mother of the ancient temple cats?’
‘I’ve always known it would be her.’
‘Wonderful choice.’
Rosette smiled back. ‘I knew years ago, on my first visit. I held that statue in my hands and for a second, it came alive.’ She took another bite of bread, sucking drops of honey from her fingers. ‘After my tattoo, then what happens?’
Nell patted her hand. ‘Under the eyes of great Ishtar…’
Rosette held her breath.
‘…we do the ritual.’
Rosette nodded, a shadow crossing her face.
‘What, child?’
‘Mamá and John’ra would not have approved, and now they’re…’
‘They would have wanted you to survive, Rosette, and studying witchcraft is the surest way to protect yourself. Besides, it’s in your blood.’
‘Get the whitest ones you can find.’ Nell sketched the shape of the root on a drawing pad. ‘No smaller than this. You can only see the tips sticking out from the snowbanks at this time of the year, so you have to dig deep.’ She handed Rosette a copper trowel to pack in her backpack.
The summer after Rosette’s initiation had fled by; the smell of the woods and the warm sun baked away her fears and eased the sadness. Her arms had tanned a dark honey-brown as she’d tended the gardens, and her intuition had sharpened as she’d hunted at the edges of the woods by day and studied herbs and star-craft by the fire at night.
Now winter was here, and it was time to collect the Snow Root—Symphytum officinalia—that Nell used in her potions, particularly the one that kept joints supple and bones warm through the long dark nights.
‘How many?’ Rosette tucked the talisman Nell had given her as an initiation gift—a silver pentagram nestling inside a crescent moon—under her sweater and buttoned up her coat.
‘At least five, more if time allows. Take only the top half of the root and replant the rest. It’s sacred, and we don’t want to deplete it.’
Rosette nodded.
‘Get away from the woods well before sunset—it’s no place to be on a winter’s night, I promise you.’
‘Nell, why are you fussing? It’s just a trip to the woods.’ Rosette’s eyes suddenly went wide. ‘Is there a transit you aren’t telling me about?’
‘You’ve studied the ephemeris. Is there?’
Rosette closed her eyes, visualising the planetary positions for the day. She couldn’t see anything outstanding, and said so.
‘What about last month?’
Rosette frowned. ‘Last month was the lunar eclipse on my north node, but what’s that got to do with today? It’s long past…Oh.’ Rosette put her hand over her mouth to stop a stream of babble.
‘Yes. Oh!’ Nell smiled briefly before letting it fade. ‘What can you tell me about the timing of eclipse events?’
Rosette took a deep breath. ‘An eclipse can have its outcome thirty days before or after the exact alignment, plus or minus three days either side.’
‘Yes, it can, and that brings us to today. It’s nothing to fret about, though I want you to stay aware, and be out of those woods before dark.’
‘Don’t worry, Nell. I’ll be back before dinner.’ She fished gloves from her pockets and pulled them on, picked up her staff and shouldered her backpack before kissing Nell’s cheeks.
The wind struck her face as she opened the cottage door. Nell called her back.
‘Here.’ She daubed a sweet-smelling ointment on Rosette’s lips and thrust the small tin into her gloved hand. ‘This’ll keep your lips from chapping. Use it sparingly; it’s very strong.’
Rosette put the container in her pocket before flipping up her hood and waving goodbye.
Several hours later she was scouring the borders of the Dumarkian Woods, looking for the elusive Snow Root. She had found only one small plant so far and no sign of any others. Pausing before the wall of pine trees, she smiled. She remembered a patch of them carpeting the summer forest floor, their tiny purple blossoms dancing like puppets on a stick. They were further in. She glanced up at the pal
e sun, took a deep breath and entered the woods.
The stillness struck her first. No wind whipped and cut at her face and not a branch moved. Only the occasional snapping of a twig underfoot, the crunch of snow and the distant screech of a raptor broke the silence. She couldn’t believe a place so still could feel this alive. It teemed with energy, and today not all of it felt friendly.
She imagined this would be an amazing place to explore on horseback. How long had it been since she’d so much as seen a horse in the distance? The last she’d touched had been Assalo, right before he died. She pushed the memory away before it choked her and continued through the woods.
By late afternoon, she had six good-size roots in her backpack. She sat on a fallen log beneath a tall grove of pines, munching on the oatcakes that Nell had packed for her. The sun had vanished behind the cloud cover, and a light snowfall floated down between the branches like puffs of dandelion looking for somewhere to land. It was already getting dark. She shivered.
Retracing her steps, she made slow progress. Her hands and feet were cold and stiff. Her legs felt like lead weights, and she had the eerie sensation of being watched. She turned a full circle, seeing nothing but the sentinel trees and falling snow before she caught a flash of movement. A blast of adrenaline hit her solar plexus, and she sucked in her breath.
There it was again, something slipping in and out of the shadows. She couldn’t identify it. Then a hunkered shape appeared. It seemed damaged. It wasn’t moving right. A high-pitched scream pierced the air and was immediately answered by a squawking challenge. Some creature was clearly under attack. Gripping her staff with both hands, she ran forward, her eyes wide and her heart pounding.
As she came closer, she made out two birds on the ground, flapping dark wings. There was a tug of war going on between a crow and a buzzard twice its size. Both were intent on the quarry and neither would back down. She couldn’t make out what they’d scavenged, but it wasn’t moving or making any noise. Rosette watched with fascination as the birds bounced and flapped and hopped back and forth, the squawks cutting short as the buzzard stopped momentarily to eye her. When it dropped its grip, Rosette recognised what they were fighting over and her heart pinched.
It was a large black cat, dead or unconscious. As she raised her staff it suddenly came to life, spitting and struggling. Rosette didn’t wait for her next breath. She held her staff high over her head and charged at the birds, screaming, ‘Get away!’ She swung her staff, well before coming into range. ‘Let go or I’ll break your necks!’
