by Kim Falconer
The words baffled Rosette, but she dropped gracefully to one knee anyway. As she raised her head to look into the emerald eyes of the High Priestess, La Makee took her hands and was lifted back to her feet. Rosette stood smiling. The woman was even more inspiring close up than she was in the lecture halls.
‘Not so obstinate as you imply,’ La Makee commented, taking in Rosette’s measure.
‘Perhaps you need to get to know her better,’ the Sword Master said without a trace of a smile.
‘I look forward to that, as she progresses in her training,’ La Makee responded. ‘She is progressing, isn’t she?’
Rosette bit her tongue. Hey, guys, I’m right next to you.
They both ignored her thought.
‘Yes, she is,’ An’ Lawrence answered.
La Makee nodded, motioning them to follow her.
That’s it? You’ve no other comment about my progress? Can’t you elaborate? Tell her how well I…
Hush.
‘First, let’s look at the maps.’ Makee directed them towards the large table in the centre of the room ‘There is much to discuss.’
She unrolled a large scroll and turned to Rosette. ‘Be a darling and see to the afternoon tea. It is being prepared in the kitchen, down the hall and to the right.’
‘Yes, Mistress.’ She shielded her surprise. Surely she would not be excluded now, just when she was about to get some idea of where they were going and why?
‘Take the temple cats with you, please. I have fresh meat for them.’
‘Thank you, Mistress,’ Rosette said, her jaw clenched. Now she couldn’t even have Drayco listen to their scheming. With the mention of fresh meat, her familiar would be attuned to nothing but the crunch and bite of his snack. It was no coincidence, distracting them in such a way, she was sure of that.
But it’s a wonderful surprise, don’t you think? Drayco interrupted her thoughts.
‘Aren’t you the least bit concerned?’ she snapped back.
My only concern is that we might have trouble finding the kitchen. This place is huge.
There was a delay with the cooks and when Rosette returned carrying the tray of hot tea and biscuits, An’ Lawrence was rolling up a map and nodding to the High Priestess. They both reacted abruptly to her approach, like parents hiding a solstice gift from their child. Is that what they thought? She was to be treated like a child? If so, why in the world were they involving her at all?
‘Thank you, Rosette. We’ll have tea and contemplate the journey.’
‘Yes, Mistress,’ she said, placing the tray on the table.
She sat with them while they talked of the upcoming yearling sale and the new student prospects, Makee’s horse who’d pulled up lame after a long ride, and the merits of teaching music to all first-year initiates. No mention, let alone contemplation, was made of the impending journey. It seemed as if that discussion was all over and done with. Rosette straightened her back and made ready to interrupt. She would find out what she could. No harm in trying.
‘Excuse me, but where exactly are we headed?’
‘Direct and to the point.’ Makee smiled at her. ‘You’re going to Los Loma in the Mount Prieta range.’
‘I understood that. I was thinking more specifically…like what are we to do when we get there?’
‘Retrieve something that was lost. You’ll see. There are too many mind-travellers here to say any more. An’ Lawrence will fill you in when you are underway.’
It didn’t make sense. Why couldn’t they just tell her now? They all had impenetrable mind-shields, unless the likes of Kreshkali was lurking in the kitchen; why the secrecy?
She sipped her tea, formulating the next question, but the High Priestess raised her hand in warning.
‘All those busy thoughts are hurting my head, Rosette. Let it go. It’ll be made clear in time.’
Rosette swallowed hard. She kept her mouth shut, her lips pressed tight together. If the High Priestess said she had to wait, then she had to wait.
‘Not as uncouth as you led me to believe, either,’ La Makee goaded An’ Lawrence.
Rosette raised her eyes to the Sword Master and mouthed the word ‘uncouth?’.
‘I really meant abrupt more than ill-mannered,’ he said to Rosette.
‘You might want to say what you mean if you’re going to say anything at all,’ Rosette snapped.
‘Ah. There’s a sample,’ An’ Lawrence said, smiling at La Makee.
‘She’s just like…’ La Makee let the sentence hang. ‘Finish your tea and pack your bags, you two. Take plenty of warm furs and dried food for yourselves, the temple cats and the horses.’
‘Horses?’ Rosette interrupted.
‘Yes, and I want you ready by first light.’
An’ Lawrence and Rosette stood as the High Priestess blessed them in turn before leaving the room.
A flutter of wings fanned the air above them.
‘A Lemur Raven,’ Rosette whispered, her mouth remaining in a round shape after she spoke. The bird looked over its shoulder, seeming to wink before it shot off after its mistress.
An’ Lawrence said nothing. With the High Priestess gone, a silence prevailed. Rosette wrinkled her brow at him though he turned away, reaching for his cup and sipping the remainder of his tea. Rosette put the last biscuit in her robe pocket—she certainly wasn’t taking much else away with her.
‘Let’s go,’ An’ Lawrence said, looking at the empty plate. He avoided her eyes.
‘As you wish, Sword Master.’
In silence, the two left the chamber, followed by the temple cats contentedly licking their lips. As they reached the high doors, An’ Lawrence spoke softly to her: ‘That went well.’
She couldn’t believe her ears. ‘You’re kidding, right?’
‘Not at all.’
‘In what way do you define well?’ Rosette growled as they walked out of the temple and down tier after tier of smooth stone steps. The afternoon breeze washed across her face, making her green feather earrings brush against her cheeks. ‘We don’t know anything new! Or should I say, I don’t know anything new!’
My belly is full. Delicious meat. Drayco sent his thoughts of satiation.
‘I am glad one of us is pleased,’ she quipped back.
‘Pardon?’ An’ Lawrence replied.
‘I was talking to Drayco.’ Rosette didn’t hide her irritation.
‘The meeting was not without advantage. I have a new map.’
‘Looking forward to seeing it,’ Rosette hissed at him, crossing her arms and turning the other way. ‘If I may be excused, I’ll go have my last hot bath for—well, for how long do you reckon, An’ Lawrence?’
‘Half a moon, at least.’
‘Right. I’ll meet you before dawn?’
‘At the stables. Bring your new furs.’
‘I can’t wait.’ Rosette slapped her thigh to attract Drayco’s attention, nodded to An’ Lawrence and walked away.
‘Rosette!’
His voice stopped her dead in her tracks. She turned to him.
‘Drop by the smithy’s on your way home. He has a new sword for you.’
She nodded and continued down the path, a smile lighting up her face.
Rosette heard the click of iron-shod hooves on the stone breezeway and the occasional blow and snort from deep mangers. The stables were just around the corner—almost there. She’d felt her way along in the dark, the thick fog obscuring her lantern, creating only a blinding glare around her feet and hands.
Rosette whistled like a magpie to warn of her coming. The mountain horses were calm and sensible, but she didn’t want to get off to a bad start by spooking them. There would be enough adjustment with the familiars so close at hand.
I wait with Scylla at the gates.
‘We won’t be too long, lovely.’
She frowned. Here she was, about to go off into the Prieta Mountains with the Sword Master, and no-one cared to tell her why. If that wasn’t unsettli
ng enough, her farewell to Clay had been doubly strange. Something was definitely not right between them, though there was no time to work it out now. He had shared her bed last night, but they’d only kissed each other goodnight and fallen asleep. He was gone when she awoke.
Rosette tried to hurry, feeling for the smooth fence railing with one hand and holding the lantern out in front of her with the other. Her heavy backpack jostled and bumped with every step. She squinted as she rounded a corner of the stable, shadows jumping up and down in the wake of the lamplight.
An’ Lawrence had the stout mountain horses saddled, their packs stowed and water-skins filled. He was bent over the taller one’s foreleg, feeling down the length of the cannon bone.
‘Everything all right?’ she asked, puffs of steam forming with each breath.
‘Yes,’ he said without looking up. ‘Just making sure there’s no swelling. They have already come a long way.’
Rosette frowned at the beast, looking it up and down. She pushed her hand through its dark coat, running it against the grain. Her fingers disappeared completely in the thick shag.
‘They’ve got full winter coats already?’ she asked. ‘Where are they from?’
‘North,’ he replied, straightening his back. ‘Far north.’ He turned, searching her face. ‘Are you ready, Rosette?’
‘As ready as one can be if one has no idea where one is headed.’
He looked past her, ignoring the sarcasm.
Rosette’s eye went to the thick roll of furs strapped behind each saddle. ‘Are we going to the northern crossing?’ She didn’t mean to sound anxious, but there it was.
He nodded and tossed her a hooded sheepskin cloak that would cover her from head to toe.
Rosette caught the heavy garment and pulled it on over her coat. She was grateful. An’ Lawrence had told her to bring only a few necessities, and she was certain she would be cold, especially at night. The warmth of the new garment gave her hope. She unpacked her gear, distributing the items into the saddlebags, and adjusted her sword.
The finely wrought blade that An’ Lawrence had commissioned for her was in the fashion of the old swordsmiths of Timbali. They used clay on the core for tempering, causing them to curve—single-sided and razor-sharp. It sat at her waist, supported by a belt of broad black cloth, double-stitched like a quilt. Its presence reminded her that the mission was deadly serious.
Looking up, she caught An’ Lawrence staring. ‘I’m ready,’ she said.
‘Let’s do it.’ He turned his horse around and led it towards the top of the path. ‘Check your girth,’ he added.
Mounting up, Rosette sent a mental note to Drayco that they were on their way and followed the Sword Master out into the pre-dawn.
CHAPTER 11
Jarrod paced back and forth, making a narrow path in the snow. His hands were blue, his fingertips numb, yet he had the distinct sensation they were burning. He shoved them into the fur-lined pockets. What was taking Nell so long?
She’d sent him out to the shed to tack up the horses while she remained inside with Maka’ra. They’d been talking in hushed voices since well before dawn. The horses were saddled and bridled and packed, ready to go as soon as Nell emerged from the cottage. Jarrod stomped his feet.
‘Any time, Nellion,’ he mumbled through chattering teeth.
Rosette was in danger—he felt it in every part of his body, cold and rigid as it was. He looked out towards the snow-covered trees, grey-green under a blanket of white. The Dumarkian Woods were slumbering, blurred by the gusts of snow-speckled wind. Was Nell slumbering too? He rubbed his hands together, blowing into them.
To think that Rosette was his link to Earth and she didn’t even know about it, any of it. He’d always wondered why he was so drawn to her, and so uncharacteristically possessive—jealous even. Now it made sense, but what still confused him was his lack of awareness. How could he not recognise her, and Nell? Was life in a Tulpa-body dulling his processes, slowing down his ability to assess and analyse? He was certainly finding it hard to thermo-regulate, and that was new.
‘Come on, Nell. I’m dying here,’ he said, his breath making steam as he spoke.
Finally the cottage door opened and Nell emerged, still talking with Maka’ra. The man was underdressed for the elements, wearing only a woollen sweater and pants tied at the waist with a colourfully woven belt. Maka’ra was a slender man, corded with muscles, his shaved head bare and his plaited beard decorated with small silver rings. He was dark-bronze-skinned, as were many island people, with tattoos on each side of his face in the tradition of their shamans—produced by puncturing the skin with whalebone needles and rubbing ash from sacred fires into the design.
After a few words and gestures, they embraced and Nell waved Jarrod over to her. ‘Are we ready?’ she asked, bright as sunshine.
He shivered, staring open-eyed at Maka’ra. The man was standing barefoot on the ice-encrusted steps. Nell chuckled.
‘I can see you aren’t enjoying the fresh morning,’ she said. ‘Take these. They’ll help.’ Nell handed Jarrod a steaming waterbag to carry beneath his coat and a pair of sheepskin-lined gloves. ‘It doesn’t get this brisk in Lividica, does it?’ she smiled, flipping her hood over her head.
‘Only in an ice box.’ Jarrod shivered, pulling on the gloves and sighing as the blood began to flow back into his fingertips.
‘Have a sip.’ She offered him her small silver flask.
‘What’s in it?’ He unscrewed the lid and took a sniff.
‘A potion,’ she said. ‘It’ll warm you up quick.’
He tilted his head back and took a swig. Heat rushed from his feet, all the way up to flush his cheeks. He smiled, doing up the lid and handing it back to her. ‘That’s magic!’
She winked.
The three walked through the yard to the horses, tethered by the gate. They were sturdy animals, shaggy as bears, one black and the other the colour of fire corals. Nell called it copper-chestnut and said the mare’s name was Wren. Jarrod had never seen such a rich coat on a horse. Of course, he’d never seen so much snow either. In Lividica, you could catch a glimpse of it if you travelled a day’s ride straight up into the Jacor mountain range. But even there it was only a light dusting.
Jarrod leaned against his mount and stroked the solid neck as Nell went back to another low-voiced conversation with Maka’ra. He fidgeted.
‘Patience, Jarrod. We can’t dash off haphazardly.’
‘We do have to dash off, though, if we are to get there in time.’
‘In time for what, I wonder?’
‘In time to…to warn Rosette. To see…’
‘To see that she is safe?’
‘She can chastise me all she likes, once I know she’s all right.’
‘I feel the same.’ Nell lifted her hand as she spoke and turned to wrap it around Maka’ra’s neck. She kissed him before taking one last look at her cottage. The brilliant summer garden was buried under several feet of snow, the trees all bare bones save for the pines laden with drifts of white powder. Only the cobbled path had been shovelled clear, and that was quickly succumbing to a new fall. The Three Sisters circled overhead, strangely silent.
‘Let’s go,’ she said, swinging her attention back to Jarrod.
Finally! ‘Yes, milady. Let’s.’
Jarrod led his horse away from the gate and mounted up. He nodded to Nell, and they headed towards the broad road that wound through the valleys and foothills, a six- or seven-day ride south to Treeon Temple if the weather didn’t turn fierce.
On the morning of the fifth day, Jarrod tied his overcoat to the back of his saddle and stowed his gloves deep in the pockets. They had left the relentless cold behind and the air felt fresh but welcoming, no longer an adversary to be overcome. Nell didn’t seem to mind either way, whatever the temperature, though her familiars did. He looked at the massive oak tree beside them, smiling at the raucous sounds.
‘Are they still with us?’
Nell put her fingers to her lips and whistled. The caws and clatter suddenly stopped as three ravens shot out from the centre of the tree and circled above them.
‘They go where I go, for the most part.’ She smiled, following their line of flight. ‘Snow, wind, storm or calm, though they’re thrilled now that it’s warmed up.’
‘So am I.’ He said the words, but he didn’t really feel thrilled.
‘We’ll ride until midday,’ she said, mounting up beside him.
She stroked her horse’s neck and settled into the saddle, scanning the distances. The hills were a dirty brown—the same colour as the wasted cows that were strewn across them. She moved out at an easy jog.
‘Midday?’ Jarrod’s brow wrinkled. ‘But that means we won’t get to Treeon until after noon tomorrow. We could be there in the morning if we kept going. The horses are in fine shape, and surely there’s a town…’
‘Yes, there surely is a town, Jarrod. It’s just a few hours’ ride northeast of the temple. That’s why we’re stopping well before it and skirting around at dawn, undetected.’
He frowned. ‘Why, exactly?’
‘The local pub will be full of bards from Treeon tonight. It’s where the apprentices go to perform and unwind, if customs haven’t changed. The last thing I want is to announce our arrival. The less attention we attract, the better. Remember, we don’t know who the opposition is, and if La Makee has a hand in it, I don’t want her to see us coming.’
Jarrod nodded, shortening his reins as the mare snorted at a burnt-out tree stump by the road. The dead hulk was a startling shape, twisted into the form of a looming bear with outstretched claws. He smiled, leaning forward to pat her shoulder, whispering softly that there was nothing to fear. When she settled he caught up to Nell.
‘You don’t trust La Makee?’
Nell was quiet, still watching the hills as if searching for something, someone. ‘I did once…’ she said under her breath.
‘What’s that?’
Nell cleared her throat. ‘Makee won’t be happy to see me at her gates.’
