The Spell of Rosette

by Kim Falconer

‘Rosette!’

  ‘Just collecting my thoughts is all, Mistress Mara,’ she said in a rush.

  ‘And are they collected now?’

  ‘Yes, Mistress.’

  ‘Then begin,’ Mara said through clenched teeth.

  Rosette squared her shoulders. Running her hand across the stones that lay on the table, she picked one up—a smooth black pebble shot with flecks of gold—and dropped it into the chalice in front of her. It rippled silently to the bottom, invisible in the dark water.

  Rosette knew she had to get this aspect of her training right before she could move on. Why was it so difficult? It wasn’t like she was changing the course of time, or even the course of a river. It was a simple summons, one she thought she knew quite well. Apparently she did not—not well enough for Mara’s standards anyway.

  Rosette inhaled, half closed her eyes and then opened them slowly, while delivering the ritual words, yet again. It must have been the fiftieth time that day she’d woven this spell. Each time, Mara found a flaw, a deviation, or imperfection—too much Air, not enough Fire, where were Gaela and Water? Rosette felt sure that all four Elementals were completely bored with the exercise by now. She certainly was.

  The spell didn’t move mountains or even heat a cup of tea. It conjured no more and no less than the attention of the Elemental Spirits residing in the four corners of the world, the four corners of Treeon, of this room, of her body, of her soul. The Elementals were within everything, the spirit of everything, the whole in every part. Any witch worth her salt could call them up at will, and Rosette wanted to be a witch worth her salt.

  She took another deep breath and released all her thoughts and judgments. A babbling mind wasn’t going to get the spell right. She let it out, long and slow. There were only the Elementals, and the energy they transmitted. There was no place where she ended and they began. Her mind smoothed like a long straight road leading to a distant horizon. The spell would work perfectly if she let it. She just had to get out of the way.

  While chanting the summons, she visualised the Elementals’ nature. Fire was like the rumbling peaks of Pele, the western mountains bubbling with molten lava. He brought inspiration, creative drive and spirit and ruled the signs of the Ram, the Lion and the Archer. Gaela was the fields and woods, sprouting the crops and calling to the wild deer, horse and ox. She was nurturing, fecund and rich, ruling over the Aurochs, Ceres and the Sea-goat. Water was diverse. It pounded the shores, carving passion into the rocky coastline, or lapped in tranquil ripples against the edges of mountain lakes, the embodiment of feelings and emotion. It ruled Luna’s Cobra, the Scorpion and the Twinned Fishes. Air swirled about the snowcapped mountains of Prieta, tall, jagged and vast. This was her element, the will and power of the mind, ruling the sign of the Twins, Bilancia and the Water-bearer.

  Rosette smiled to herself.

  With full intention, she called them in. This time her lips did not go dry, and the deep, guttural words she chanted did not stick and jab in her throat. They came out smoothly, untroubled as a swiftly flowing stream. She felt a humming without sound in the back of her head and a feeling of lightness in all her limbs.

  The air in the chamber stirred. The candles in front of her lit of their own accord. Fire’s accord. The water in the silver chalice lapped the sides like a miniature tidal flux, rippling with echoes from the sea. The stones, mostly agate, chalcedony, jade and lapis, began to shake while the breeze in the room quickened.

  Rosette felt her whole body shimmer with joy. She tucked her hands into the long sleeves of her robe, folded her arms and softened her eyes. She waited for the verdict, even though she knew what it would be. She finally understood what Mara had been teaching her. It wasn’t enough to conjure the Elementals. The skill was to invite them all in equal measure, regardless of her personal elemental balance. She was lopsided, as most are, with a predominance of Air and Gaela, having many planets in the sign of the Twins and the Sea-goat. When she’d worked this spell in the past, she’d mirrored the imbalance. There would be plenty of Air, a rumbling of Gaela but only a ripple in the chalice and a flicker of one candle. This time, she called them in symmetrically.

  ‘Done.’ Mara raised her hand in the traditional spiral gesture.

  If she was pleased, or relieved, it didn’t show. No emotion played across the older woman’s face.

  ‘Blessings be.’

  Rosette began the traditional response, lips pressed tight to contain the exuberant grin bursting to escape.

  ‘Blessings to the East, North, West and South—to the Elementals of Fire, Gaela, Air and Water. I honour your presence and your power.’ She lifted the chalice and took a sip. ‘I am your ally, and you are mine.’

  She leaned forward to kiss the warm hand of her mentor, the tiny bells woven into her long braids tinkling as she did so. Inside, she felt like jumping up and down. Done! Success! Triumph! Was it possible that she finally might move on to a proper apprenticeship with the Sword Master? Everything would change now. She could feel it.

  When Rosette’s lips touched her tutor’s hand she sensed stiffness there, and her rush of exuberance fell flat. There was resistance in Mara. She felt it immediately. Rigidity had replaced the normally expressive limb. Rosette sighed. Something was definitely wrong.

  ‘Go to the pools and bathe. You start at dawn tomorrow,’ Mara instructed.

  ‘I do?’ Rosette’s head tilted to the side, making one braid dip below her waist. Start what?

  ‘You’ll need a good rest tonight.’

  Rosette nodded. ‘Thank you, Mistress.’

  Mara, already slipping out the chamber door, seemed to miss the gesture of gratitude.

  Several candles fluttered out as the door whooshed closed. Pushing her sleeve to her elbow, Rosette took the silver candle snuffer and extinguished the remaining flames, all save one. Near darkness swallowed the room and doubt entered in with it.

  Maybe coming to Treeon Temple had been a mistake. There were other ways to train in witchcraft and perfect the sword, other paths to developing her creative powers. She had done quite well under Nell’s tutelage. If she’d known what life at Treeon Temple was really like, perhaps she would not have made the application in the first place.

  Then where would I be?

  She pulled on her boots and laced them. Taking a final look around the room, she snuffed the last candle and whispered a thank you to the Elementals. She stepped into the night, the spirits of Fire, Gaela, Air and Water dancing out with her.

  The evening was cool and crisp, smelling of autumn, a hint of apples and freshly cut hay reminding her of warmer days. Pausing at the top of the steps, she closed her eyes and reached out her thoughts until they touched Drayco’s mind. I did it, Dray. I perfected the spell. She could feel him yawn.

  You’ve been doing that one for years.

  I do it better now.

  Coming home?

  I’m going to bathe first. I won’t be long.

  He answered with a purr.

  Rosette headed down the steps, peeking at the stars through the courtyard trees. At least Drayco had adapted to life at Treeon Temple. She wished others had adjusted to the two of them with as much ease. Shaking her head, she walked across the dimly lit plaza and down the path that led to the granite bathing pools. She relished the idea of soaking away her worries tonight. The pools were the best part of this place.

  The path wound off to the left, beyond the horse barns and apple orchards. Torches lined the way like sentinels, making her squint after the darkness of the chamber. The bright, smoky light obscured the stars, but she looked up anyway. It felt like her arduous Saturn transit was going to last forever. She sighed. Of course, it wasn’t really negative. She just had to do the work, pay the price, and earn the advancement. That’s what mattered to Saturn, and if she were to get through this it had to matter to her as well.

  Honour the gods, Rosette, each after their own nature, and you honour yourself. Ignore them and a demon is born. Nel
l’s voice from the past came as a comfort and a guide.

  Looking for the moon, she confirmed it had already set. It’d be nearly midnight now. Clay had probably given up on meeting her after training. He was a patient friend, but her consistent tardiness was probably beginning to irritate him. She wondered sometimes why he was so forgiving.

  Her boots crunched on the gravel as she walked, silencing crickets and night owls along the way. If only she could silence the stream of thoughts running unchecked through her mind. They tumbled over and over with nagging doubts about myriad things, but tonight they centred on her relationship with Clay. For all his support, she didn’t completely trust him.

  There’s no real reason not to. He’s always there for me.

  They’d spent every spare moment together since the chance meeting on the road. Lately, with her study load and his musical journeys to towns across the countryside, those moments were becoming fewer, yet she always found them fulfilling. They talked as they wandered, exploring the landscapes of Treeon. Together they perused the books and maps in the library, picnicked in the orchard under falling apple blossoms and swam in the crystal gorges behind the upper reservoirs. Sometimes they explored each other’s bodies until the small hours of the night. Rosette smiled. Clay was definitely fun.

  He was like a holiday away from the demands of her studies and she knew he loved her. She felt it in her soul and trusted it. What she didn’t trust was the pesky doubt that something wasn’t quite honest between them. He seemed to be everything he boasted—quite good at music, and quite good at lovemaking too. But underneath it all, something about him made her wary. She sensed a lie—Mulengro between them.

  She wondered if he was committed to some other woman, or perhaps he’d lied about his past or his family. Well, she had done that too! Maybe she simply felt her own deceit thrown back in her face. Still, it festered. Whenever she tried to broach the subject with him it was like bouncing a ball off a brick wall. Clay was most skilled at deflection. Sometimes it would be hours later before she realised he hadn’t actually answered her question. He was a true bard.

  She shrugged. She didn’t care about commitment or a formal relationship. She cared about friendship, love and intimacy. She cared about a feeling of family. Somehow, the murders that descended on her family’s estate five years ago had come to the foreground of her thoughts again. A part of her feared that the funny feeling she had about Clay might be connected.

  Or I’m just being paranoid.

  She pretended everything was fine. She did that very convincingly, but it didn’t change the apprehension. Aside from Drayco and Nell, there was no-one in the world with whom she felt completely safe—no-one she trusted implicitly. Jarrod too, of course, but she hadn’t heard from him and probably never would. They’d agreed it would be so. They protected each other with silence.

  Stop thinking about this! She put both hands to her head. If you must think about it, put up a mind-shield, for great demon’s sake.

  Without vigilance, a receptive ‘traveller’ might hear her thoughts, and there were plenty of those about, practising at all hours of the day and night. Their bodies remained inert, but anyone sensitive enough could feel their spirits darting around, learning to ‘hear’ the thoughts of others, sending messages of their own.

  The last thing she wanted was to arouse curiosity about her past or her concern with Clay. He had moved up in rank in the last six months and enjoyed a fair measure of popularity. Suspicions would be reported to La Makee. If that happened, Rosette would have some explaining to do. She and Nell had agreed the past needed to remain buried. It would be safer that way.

  Lost in her shielded thoughts, she raised her head just in time to avoid colliding into a group of girls coming up from the pools. They were wrapped in copper-coloured towels, their long wet hair dripping down their backs. They looked golden in the flicker of the torchlight and she wondered how she could have missed their approach with all the noise they made.

  ‘Having a late one again, Rosette?’ Amelia spoke, clutching her towel with one hand and pushing wet hair off her face with the other. ‘You missed communal dinner.’

  ‘Training,’ Rosette replied. She barely slowed her pace, determined to continue along the track with just a nod and a smile. The pretence involved in conversing with these girls was not appealing. She didn’t have the energy for it. Not tonight.

  ‘You’re always out in the wee hours,’ Amelia said, moving to block the way. ‘You, and that mammoth familiar of yours…where is it?’ The girl looked around, eyes narrowing.

  Rosette stopped just short of her and crossed her arms. ‘He, Amelia, not it. And how is Drayco’s size, or my training schedule, any of your business?’

  ‘I didn’t mean to pry. I simply…’ Amelia stumbled back a step only to have her companions push her forward again. She stuck out her chin as she spoke: ‘It’s just that you’re a recluse, and it’s so big. How does a kitty-cat get to be that big?’ She giggled with the rest of the girls.

  ‘He is not a kitty-cat.’ Rosette’s jaw tightened.

  ‘Oh, excuse me. Temple cat.’ Her voice became sickly-sweet.

  ‘If you’re finished with the semantics,’ Rosette dropped her arms to her sides and pushed forward, ‘I’m going to the pools.’

  ‘Not quite. I’ve a message.’

  Rosette stopped. ‘From whom?’

  ‘Your “friend” Clay. He said if I saw you to let you know he couldn’t wait any longer. He’s off in the morning to Morzone.’ She winked, her grin widening.

  What are you hiding, little witch? Rosette glared. ‘What else?’ she asked aloud.

  The girls around Amelia burst into laughter.

  Without another word, Rosette pushed through them and continued down the track. Silly girls full of gossip and jealousy. When would they grow up? This was more about Clay than her, no doubt. Amelia had had her eye on him from the start.

  Take him then, if it’s so damn important to you. I don’t care.

  Rosette didn’t bother to send her mental thoughts straight to Amelia. The girl wouldn’t hear her anyway.

  Take who? Drayco replied.

  Oh, my lovely. It was just a random thought spilling out into the night.

  Girls bothering you again? No.

  Really?

  A little.

  Do you want an escort?

  Nah. Nearly there. She didn’t want to think about it any more. She just wanted to submerge her body in the hot pools, have supper, curl up with her familiar and go to sleep.

  To dream of the one I have never met? The question came from Drayco’s mind, still linked.

  Rosette smiled. Yes, if I’m lucky. She blew him a mental kiss and jogged down the path.

  The high wooden doors that led to the granite bathing pools were open. Rosette unlaced her boots and lined them up on a low bench. There were no other shoes there, no sign of anyone else. Clay really had gone. He was travelling so much this season he’d make journeyman before his next birthday. She yawned. At least someone was progressing.

  The granite slabs felt rough on her bare feet. They were wet but not slippery. Steam enveloped her, making her skin warm and damp. The place echoed with drips from the vaulted ceiling. She looked up only to see the reflected darkness of the pools and the orange glow of the torchlight. Beads of perspiration rose on her brow. The water would be hot tonight.

  The pools were fed by deep underground fissures, heated by the lava streams that flowed beneath the surface. Although the temperature fluctuated, it was always warm. According to rumour, it was once so hot that an initiate had passed out and drowned. They were warned not to bathe alone, though Rosette did so from time to time.

  Pushing lank strands of hair off her face, she looked down at the shimmering surface. The crystal water was black in the torchlight, as if it had no bottom. She watched the drips make circular patterns that radiated, sending on impact tiny waves towards all four corner steps. She couldn’t wait to get in!<
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  Unbuttoning her robe, she let it slip over her hips and fall to the ground. Reaching down to retrieve it, she cursed. The floor was soaking wet, water pooling around her feet. There had been many people here recently. She shook the robe out and hung it on a hook.

  Rosette tuned into picking up any sound or thought around her. She was a receptive and a mind-traveller herself, more than a novice. Her range was expanding and she hoped to surprise Nell with a message this winter—a solstice greeting, mind to mind. Dumarka was a long way to send a thought deliberately—even Drayco couldn’t do it—but she was determined to perfect this skill. Tilting her head and listening, she convinced herself she was the only one in the cavern.

  She reached high above the row of hooks to the top shelf and found a dry towel. Inhaling, the scent of lavender and rose made her smile. She finished undressing and hung the rest of her clothes up, throwing the towel over her shoulder. While making her way to the steps, she untied her hair, setting the tiny silver bells chiming. She coiled her hair ties and bells into a nest at the edge of the steps, picked up a handful of salt grains and dipped her toe into the pool.

  ‘Hot!’ she exclaimed aloud. Her voice echoed through the empty chamber. ‘Hot, hot, hot!’

  She dropped her towel. The steam rose around her as she descended the submerged steps. Her hair fanned out over the surface of the water until, saturated, it sank to her buttocks. Just as the water lapped up to her breasts, she started sensing she wasn’t alone. Her hand opened in reflex, the salt grains falling silently into the depths below.

  ‘Hello?’ She turned a complete circle, listening. Maybe Clay had come back to surprise her.

  ‘Who’s there?’ She smiled, guessing it must be him. ‘I didn’t think you’d leave without seeing me, Cassarillo. Where are you hiding?’

  ‘I thought we instructed initiates to be mindful of their environment.’

  The voice was male, mature. Not Clay’s.

  Rosette’s mind raced. She knew that voice, though she hadn’t heard it directed towards her since the day she arrived. There was no mistaking the tone and accent. It was the Sword Master.