The Spell of Rosette

by Kim Falconer

  Rosette’s nose twitched when she heard her own reasoning coming back at her. She smiled. To think she’d been worried about how Drayco would cope. She stood up, letting out a little laugh.

  That sounds better.

  ‘It feels better, Dray.’

  The traffic in the courtyard had thinned with only a few stragglers darting through, robes flying out behind pumping legs. She put her hand to her forehead and scanned the avenue leading to the oval, shading her eyes from the noonday sun.

  ‘We’re going to miss the start.’

  If we don’t go now, we’ll miss the finish.

  Rosette kept gazing up ahead until Drayco nipped her hand.

  Someone’s coming.

  Where?

  Behind.

  Her spine stiffened.

  ‘Are you lost?’

  Rosette spun around and looked into the face of a tall, solid-built man in a black robe. His expression was sunny, his manner purposeful. He had a strong jaw, a shaved head, smooth skin and when he smiled, his eyes crinkled with delight.

  ‘Pardon me?’ she said.

  ‘It looks to me like you and your companion are lost,’ he said again, this time directing his words to Drayco as well.

  ‘We’re just getting our bearings.’

  He watched her with an intensity that gave her goose bumps. His eyes were green, flecked with gold and brown and shaped like a cat’s.

  ‘I know a short cut,’ he said. ‘Come on.’

  ‘What?’ Rosette creased her forehead.

  ‘A “short cut”,’ he enunciated slowly. ‘It’s a way of getting somewhere faster, more direct.’

  ‘I’m familiar with the term,’ she said, suppressing a giggle.

  ‘I can get you right up close to the demonstrations, if you want…and you will want. They aren’t to be missed.’

  Shall we? Drayco nudged her hand. He’s harmless.

  Harmless? He looks to me like he could mow down an army blindfolded.

  Drayco sneezed. You’re right. Let me correct myself. He looks like he means us no harm.

  She hesitated. Shyness washed over her, making her wish she were back at Nell’s cottage. She imagined herself sitting in front of the hearth, listening to her mentor read from The Stellar Opus while she combed grass seeds from Drayco’s fur.

  ‘Thanks, but I should probably find my own way.’

  ‘Should? Mine’s quicker.’ He winked. ‘Come on,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘You won’t regret it.’

  She hung back.

  He smiled at her anew. ‘Ah. I have no manners.’ He slapped his hand to his forehead. ‘Let me introduce myself.’ He turned his back on her for a second then spun around as if seeing her for the first time. ‘I’m Rowan.’ He lifted his right hand, palm upward, in a gesture of open greeting.

  Rosette responded automatically in the same way, their palms touching. She took his hand and felt the fire of his grip. Energy jolted up her arm, like a zap of lightning. She blocked it before it reached her elbow.

  ‘I’m Rosette,’ she said, surprised by the tingling sensation. She looked deeper into his eyes. She felt a strength of purpose beneath his jovial manner. He’d been in plenty of battles, she could tell. She suspected there was more to his name than just plain ‘Rowan’.

  ‘You two are from the Dumarkian Woods, I’ll wager.’ He fixed his eyes on the cat as he spoke.

  ‘This is my familiar, Drayco.’

  ‘Honoured,’ he said, bowing his head slightly to both. ‘Can I show you the way now? Come or not, I’ve got to run. I can’t miss this.’

  Nor can we. Come on, Maudi. It’s all good.

  ‘Thank you, Rowan. Lead the way, please.’

  As he turned, she saw a stunning tattoo at the back of his neck—two wings, extended in flight, a grey wash of feathers, black with red tips. It stood out brilliantly against his bronzed skin. She couldn’t pull her eyes away.

  ‘Apprentice?’ he asked without slowing down. He dodged down a series of side walkways, glancing to see if she and Drayco followed.

  ‘Initiate,’ she answered. ‘We’ve just arrived.’

  ‘No kidding,’ he said, turning his head again to smile.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘A woman like you, I would remember.’

  She laughed, relaxing her shoulders as she rushed along. Her breath came easily now. It felt good to run, especially without her pack. ‘And why’s that?’

  ‘Because,’ he said, keeping his eye forward, ‘you’re beautiful…in a raven-like way.’

  ‘Raven?’ She sputtered out another laugh. ‘How so?’

  ‘The black hair, of course, and the nose.’

  ‘The nose?’

  ‘Raven for sure. Very distinct.’

  Rosette reached up and felt her nose as if considering its shape for the first time. She shook her head, following him along the twisting pathways, wondering who he really was. His plain robe and the name he gave her offered no clue as to rank, and his manner didn’t help either. It was too contradictory. The commanding grace said one thing, his jesting speech and boyish mannerisms said another.

  Trickster, do you think, Dray?

  Maybe…

  When she spotted the hilt of his sword as his robe wafted back, she sucked in her breath. It was ancient and elaborately designed, clearly not owned by a lowranking journeyman.

  ‘Do you train with the Sword Master?’ she asked in a rush.

  ‘You could say that.’ He lengthened his stride to a full run.

  She worked hard to keep up, Drayco loping at her side.

  He ducked down a narrow side path hedged by late-blooming camellias. The red and pink blossoms against the shiny green leaves filled her vision with a thrill of colour. She sped up, matching his pace stride for stride.

  ‘That’s why I’m here,’ she said between breaths.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘The Sword Master. I’m here to train with him.’

  ‘Does he know?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘You’re ambitious.’

  ‘So they tell me.’

  He touched her hand, tilting his head to the left.

  ‘This way,’ he said, leaping forward to ascend a long flight of stairs.

  How they would get to the training grounds ahead of the crowd, even at this pace, she had no idea. From what she remembered of her elevated view of Treeon, the demonstration grounds were straight uphill, and a fair way off. Still she climbed, forcing her legs with no thought of slowing down. They turned a bend, dashed up a second set of narrow stairs and then came to a sudden stop.

  ‘Whoa,’ Rosette gasped, putting her hand down to her side to stop Drayco’s momentum. Her eyes widened.

  They stood side by side, chests rising and falling in rhythm, looking at the horse in front of them. Obsidian black, with a mane that hung in braids down to his knees, the animal turned his head towards them and trumpeted, blasting a throaty challenge. When they didn’t respond immediately, he pawed the cobblestones with alternating forelegs, setting sparks flying with each strike of his iron-shod hooves.

  Rowan motioned for them to wait. ‘Don’t be cross,’ he said, stepping up to take the lead rope from around the massive neck. Bringing the horse forward a few steps, he came to a halt right in front of Rosette and Drayco.

  ‘This is Diablai,’ Rowan announced as the horse fluttered his nostrils at Drayco and let out soft whickers. The fur around the top of the temple cat’s head parted in the gusts of air. ‘I think he will consent to carry us both bareback.’

  He’s been to Dumarka. Drayco seemed surprised. He knows my kind.

  He’s been to Dumarka? Are you sure?

  I am sure.

  ‘You’re talking to him?’ Rosette said. ‘He understands you?’

  He hears all of us.

  ‘Yes, he does,’ Rowan answered, thinking Rosette’s words were directed towards him. ‘Sometimes he knows what I’m going to say before I even think it.’

  �
��I know what you mean,’ she whispered.

  Rosette marvelled at the animal. He was tall—about seventeen hands, she guessed. His neck arched as he looked at her straight on, his huge brown eyes gazing through a long and dense forelock that covered most of his face. His nostrils flared as he took in her scent, then he tossed his head, trumpeting again.

  ‘Diablai,’ she said softly. ‘I would cherish a ride with you.’ She lifted her hand to stroke his shoulder, making it ripple with the touch. It felt like silk; the muscles beneath were tight, ready to spring.

  Rowan grasped a handful of mane at the horse’s withers and vaulted up with practised ease before extending his arm down to Rosette. She ignored it. Grasping a handful of mane as well, she took a backward step towards Diablai’s head and vaulted up neatly behind.

  Settling in, she pressed her face close to Rowan’s cheek. ‘Shall we be off?’

  ‘A horsewoman, are you?’

  ‘I used to be.’ She was about to frown but lifted her face instead.

  ‘Perhaps you’ll apprentice with the Sword Master after all,’ he said as he urged Diablai up the remaining slope.

  ‘He favours equestrians?’

  ‘Of course.’

  She slipped her arms around Rowan’s waist. The power of the horse beneath her and the man in front of her made her take a deep breath. Invigorating! This was quite a contrast to the ride she had had earlier today. She could feel the undulation and tensing of every muscle in Diablai’s spine. Energy shot through him at such a rate, she thought they might fly up the cliff instead of climb it.

  ‘Why the sword?’ he asked.

  ‘What’s that?’ She turned her attention back to Rowan as she held him tight.

  ‘Why do you want to train with the sword?’

  ‘I feel more alive with a sword in my hand than at almost any other time.’

  ‘Any other reason?’

  Rosette hesitated. ‘Promise not to laugh?’

  ‘Not if it’s funny.’

  ‘All right. Promise not to snicker?’

  He nodded.

  ‘I train with the sword because…I had a dream.’

  ‘A dream?’

  ‘It was vivid, lingering. I know I will apprentice with the Sword Master. I have to. I’ve seen it.’

  ‘Do you base all your plans on dreams?’

  ‘Pretty much.’ She clutched him as they skirted around a cluster of oaks and up another steep incline. ‘Don’t you?’

  He didn’t reply.

  ‘How’d you hear about our Sword Master anyway?’ Rowan asked, gripping Diablai’s mane.

  ‘He’s the best.’

  ‘Is that what they’re saying where you come from, in Dumarka?’

  ‘Actually, I come from the south, near Lister Bay, but either way, north or south, that’s what they say.’

  ‘And who are they?’

  ‘My mentor says so.’

  ‘Your mentor?’ Rowan said the words so softly that Rosette wasn’t sure he had actually spoken. ‘And who might that be?’ he asked, the question ringing out.

  She cleared her throat.

  ‘Nellion Paree, of the Dumarkian Woods.’

  ‘Nellion Paree?’ He whistled.

  Rosette bumped into Rowan’s shoulder as Diablai bunched his muscles to leap over a broad hedge that divided two tracks.

  ‘Hang on,’ he said.

  They landed lightly on the far side of the hedge and galloped on.

  ‘The Nellion Paree?’ he asked again.

  ‘You keep saying her name, but you had it right the first time.’ Rosette pinched him and laughed.

  He didn’t laugh back.

  Rosette wasn’t sure what the problem was. ‘She’s a powerful witch, a great teacher.’

  He didn’t respond for several strides as he urged Diablai up a climb of stairs. The horse’s hooves tapped out a beat as they hit the stones. Rosette tightened her leg muscles, and her breath came in rushes, though it was Diablai that ran. They crested the top of the stairs, directly behind the arena, just a short length from the stage.

  ‘Indeed she is,’ Rowan finally answered, turning his face to her as Diablai came to a halt. ‘And here we are.’

  As promised, the short cut and the horse’s speed had secured them a spot in front of the main stage. Drayco stood very close to the horse, his tail twitching as he surveyed the crowd. His sides lifted and fell with each quick breath.

  ‘Amazing,’ Rosette said.

  ‘Did you doubt I could do it?’

  ‘A little,’ she said without apology. ‘I don’t know you.’

  ‘Perhaps we can remedy that,’ he said, giving her thigh a squeeze.

  She released her arms from around his waist, leaned forward and slid her leg over Diablai’s rump. Next thing she knew, her feet were planted on the ground, her head tilted up to thank the horseman. It was then she realised he was barefoot, his toes brushing her arm as he turned Diablai around.

  ‘You have a wonderful horse.’

  ‘Thank you, my lady.’ He smiled down at her. ‘Actually, he’s the Sword Master’s.’

  Rosette’s eyebrows went up.

  ‘Go on,’ Rowan prompted, giving her a wink. ‘Find a good place, right up front.’

  She followed his gesture then turned back only to see him galloping away. ‘Thank you…’ she called out.

  Too late. Horse and rider were gone.

  She looked over at the crowd. ‘Ready to get amongst them, my lovely?’

  Ready, Drayco purred. She’s near.

  ‘Who’s near?’

  The one like me.

  ‘Maybe you’ll meet her soon.’

  Not yet. She’s hiding.

  He pressed his head briefly into Rosette’s hand and led the way into the crowd. A path parted before them as they moved towards the stage, dead centre, front row. Rosette looked straight up into the faces on the raised platform. She guessed immediately which one the High Priestess was.

  Even though Rosette had never met La Makee, she had heard her described many times. She was easy to spot. The red hair gave her away, and the fact that everyone around her was listening intently, responding to her directions with nods and gestures. She was definitely in command. Red hair, short stature, huge energy. Huge? The woman was luminous. And her hair wasn’t just red. It burned like fire, falling in tresses to her waist. Several large azurite stones were draped at her neck, secured with a double chain of silver. They glinted in the sunlight while she paced back and forth, stopping now and then to speak with the others. A sword swung at her side, the hilt inlaid with silver and bluestone. Rosette took a quick look at her own lapis bangles. They were of similar design.

  That’s interesting.

  What, Maudi?

  Just noticing La Makee’s sword hilt.

  You would. Drayco sent a playful purr with his thoughts.

  As the High Priestess strode about the stage her silk robe blew open, revealing black leather trousers and a finely quilted vest. Embroidered on the edges of her robe were entwining green serpents, and on the back a soaring golden falcon. Her hands lifted gracefully above her head, slipping on a band to secure her hair away from her face. They were tattooed, somewhat like Nell’s.

  La Makee stopped suddenly and stood like a warrior—legs apart, arms crossed under her breasts. She eyed the crowd as if they were new troops. The High Priestess of Treeon Temple wasn’t very tall, five or six inches shorter than Rosette, but what she lacked in height she made up for in sheer potency. La Makee exuded power and command, her toned muscles well defined, each movement agile and precise.

  Her face seemed timeless, ancient and full of youth all at once. She had to be over fifty years old, but her birth data—like many of those in high rank—was kept secret. Nell said she was born under the sign of the Archer: adventurous, philosophical and free. Looking at her on stage, Rosette didn’t doubt it. La Makee beamed with fortitude and conviction, and something else. Something regal. She guessed the sign of the Lion
was on the eastern horizon when this woman entered the world.

  ‘She’ll not let you off with the slightest imprecision or flaw,’ Nell had warned. ‘She knows true from false at the glance of an eye. Be honest in what you say to her, though know you may not always want to say too much.’

  She knew Nell and La Makee had a history. They hadn’t seen each other or communicated for decades, until the letter Nell wrote applying for Rosette’s entry to Treeon. Rosette had asked what lay between them, but her mentor seemed reluctant to speak of it, and Rosette hadn’t pressed. Now that she was here, she wished she had.

  As La Makee clapped her hands several others joined her, though they stood further back. Rosette was startled to see two men leap up onto the platform belatedly. They shed their black robes, one tightening his sword belt and striding forward to stand beside La Makee. He towered above her, powerfully built, serpent tattoos entwining his forearms, shaved head revealing a striking face. The other, a slightly shorter man with spiky hair, followed quickly behind to stand beside him. Both were bare to the waist, barefoot and sculpted like fine art.

  Rosette swallowed hard. There was no question about who stood directly alongside La Makee. It was the man who called himself Rowan. As if he knew he was being watched, he glanced down into the crowd and winked at Rosette. Without breaking eye contact he leaned towards the shorter man beside him, whispering something out of the side of his mouth. Both now looked in her direction. She felt her face flush.

  Why would he deceive her like that? Her mind spun. Trickster!

  ‘Is that…is he the…?’ She didn’t avert her eyes from Rowan as she tapped the young girl next to her, pointing towards the man on stage.

  ‘The Sword Master?’ the girl finished Rosette’s sentence. ‘Yes, it’s An’ Lawrence. He’s amazing. Unbelievably fast. You’ll see. They’re going to give a demonstration.’ She looked down at Drayco and her smile fell. She edged away.

  ‘Hush!’ A woman standing behind scolded both girls. Drayco turned his head, but she didn’t flinch. ‘La Makee is about to speak.’ She glared at Drayco and he glared back. At least someone here wasn’t intimidated by the feline. Rosette nodded at the woman and looked back to the stage.

  ‘For those who are new…’ La Makee paused to scan the crowd as if she identified them immediately among the hundreds in front of her, ‘welcome to the coven of Treeon Temple.’