by Kim Falconer
She raised her eyebrows.
‘Okay, wrong question.’ Jarrod frowned. ‘Does he know?’
‘I’m hoping he’s worked it out by now.’
‘Hoping? He may not know? She could be just any young witch to him? Do you realise what could happen if…’
‘Jarrod. More breathing, less panicking. They headed out on the north road three mornings ago. I think they’re going to do some kind of deal with Kreshkali, but that’s just a guess.’
‘Why don’t they just jump off a thousand-foot cliff into a bottomless sea? It would save them the trouble of a more treacherous end.’
‘Jarrod…’
‘It’s suicide.’
‘Possibly. I’m going to stay here at Treeon and find out what I can. Makee and I are back on speaking terms, but there’s much she withholds.’ She smiled crookedly. ‘Of course, there’s much that I withhold as well. But a visiting priestess is regarded very highly, and for the time I’m here it is required that I teach some classes and work with a few chosen apprentices. In exchange, I’ll get to the bottom of Makee’s schemes.’
‘I have to go after them.’
‘I know. There’s gold in the saddlebags; plenty for more supplies. Go back to the town we passed by this morning and stock up. You’ll be needing your overcoat and gloves by tomorrow night. The winds are biting on Mount Prieta.’
Jarrod nodded. ‘And you?’
‘I’ll catch up with you by tomorrow night. Next day at the latest.’ She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. He wrapped his arms tightly around her lithe body.
‘Thank you, Nell.’ Jarrod released her and bent down to kiss one cheek, then the other, then her lips.
‘We’ll thank each other when we find Rosette and work out what to do with her wily spell.’ Nell stepped backwards, further into the trees.
Jarrod felt again the boom of energy and looked up to see the black hawk soaring above the treeline, the Three Sisters shooting after her.
He grabbed his brace of rabbits and went to his mare, tightening the girth before mounting. ‘We’re heading out, Wren,’ he whispered, while stroking her neck. ‘And we’re going hard. Be strong.’
He looked down the road towards the town, then up to the mountains. Turning the mare northwards he urged her into a brisk trot then a canter. He had sufficient grain for the horse and almost enough food for himself. That was all the supplies necessary. He didn’t plan on losing another moment. He had to find Rosette before Kreshkali did.
EARTH AND GAELA
CHAPTER 12
Kreshkali closed the book and stared at her hands. The interpretation didn’t please her, though it was no real surprise. She knew the Lupins had been her inheritance—she had not realised, though, just how deep the connection went. A peal of thunder rumbled outside her apartment, bright flashes momentarily engulfing the golden glow of candlelight. She hardly noticed. Packing empty water bottles and her notes into a backpack, she pulled on her boots, grabbed her cloak and headed for the portal.
The sewer under Half Moon Bay was dank, as always, dark and slick with ooze, the smell nauseating. She made her way to the portal by the light of a small lantern, glancing over her shoulder more than once before she reached it. If ASSIST had sent trackers, she couldn’t spot them. Her new apartment was safe, so far, though there was no real sanctuary on Earth, especially not for her. There was always a risk.
She’d need help again soon, and she didn’t relish the idea of asking for it. If Jaynan could fool her, it proved anyone could. There must be a way to tell friend from foe, but it had eluded her. Extinguishing the lantern, she hid it in a crevice and stepped through the portal.
They were waiting on the other side. She sensed them just beyond the door of her chamber beneath Los Loma, half a dozen at least. She pushed it wide, light from the passageway beaming in.
‘Do you understand what must be done?’ she asked, taking in the beasts.
The Lupins were gathered around, most in wolf form, a few bipedal. All were attentive though only one communicated, using mind-speech. Aye, Mistress. We get the young witch and we bring her to you.
‘That’s right, Hotha,’ she said, taking a deep breath. ‘But we need to discuss the word “get”. She’s invited, not forced. I want her intrigued enough to come down and meet me, alone, but she’s not to be harmed or coerced. She’s a mistress too. Do you understand? She’s of the blood.’
What if she doesn’t want to come?
‘She will. Born under the sign of the Twins—curious as a cat. Besides, it’s part of the trade—all set up. You just have to play it right.’
And the others?
‘Absolutely in no way are they to be harmed.’
What if they interfere?
‘Knock them out—but I mean it, no lasting harm. And they aren’t to suspect anything, any of them, not even her. Especially not her. I have to tell her myself. Got it, my beauties?’
She stroked the top of the nearest wolf’s head and he gently nipped her sleeve. The rest slunk off down the passageway, throwing back mental messages in the affirmative. The other remained, morphing into a bipedal form, his dark eyes penetrating. ‘We need to talk, Kreshkali.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘There’s a blizzard out there and I don’t think your girl’s going to make it.’
Rosette opened her eyes, blinking slowly. It seemed much quieter than she remembered. Calmness surrounded her like a warm, woolly blanket. Everything was still except for the dancing orange lights. They leapt and played against the ceiling above her—light without sound—ever so peaceful.
Her eyes opened wider. Ceiling?
How was that possible? The last thing she recalled was being stuck in the middle of a blizzard. Rosette scratched her head. The biting wind had been left behind. She was either dead or sheltered. Toss a coin, it didn’t matter. It felt good. If she concentrated really hard, she could just make out a distant, thin wail. It sounded like an elderly voice, calling from far away, soft, vague and echoing.
‘Where am I?’ she asked aloud.
No answer. Rosette pushed her braids away from her face. What could have happened? She remembered being freezing, and angry. She’d been trying to get somewhere. That’s right; she’d been following An’ Lawrence towards shelter. They must have been heading for this place. A cave? But then something had happened. Everything had gone from icy stabs of pain to a warm and dark silence. It was wonderful. She reached her arms over her head, brushing past the soft fur coat of Drayco. The rise and fall of his warm body stretched out next to her was reassuring.
‘So this isn’t a dream?’
A delicious heat penetrated her every pore. Dry furs were nestled around her, their plush depths cushioning every move. As her eyes became accustomed to the dark, she noticed a red ember-glow defining the outlines of a cavern. It was a huge space.
Drayco, what’s happening?
The temple cat yawned massively. I’m sleeping. It’s warm and safe. You should do the same.
She closed her eyes. All right.
At least the temple cat wasn’t alarmed. If he said she was safe, then she was. But where was An’ Lawrence?
Her eyes popped open again. Suddenly she registered that she and Drayco were not alone in the warm furs, not isolated in their protected nest. She also realised why those pelted furs seemed so soft and comforting on her skin. She was naked. Lifting the covers slightly, she recognised the Sword Master’s long tanned arm draped across her hip and his hand resting lightly atop her thigh. Stiffening, she tried to recall how this might have happened.
Blank.
He didn’t share her alarm. His breathing came in the deep and rhythmic flow of sleep. No matter. She was alarmed enough for the both of them. She slipped from under his arm and sat upright, accidentally smacking him on the head with her elbow.
His eyes sprang open and he reached for his sword, looking towards the entrance.
‘What are we doing here?’ Rosette shout
ed at him.
His face relaxed. ‘So you didn’t die.’ He stretched. ‘I wondered if I’d ever hear that screech again.’
‘Answer the question!’ She kicked his legs.
An’ Lawrence chuckled, the sound reverberating through the cave. ‘I was saving your life, though no doubt I’ll soon wish I hadn’t.’ He yawned and closed his eyes. ‘Go back to sleep if you can. We’ll ride when the blizzard passes.’
‘I don’t remember my life needing to be saved. I don’t remember finding this cave and I certainly don’t remember getting undressed and crawling into the furs with you. What’s going on?’
He moaned and rolled over. ‘Go to sleep, girl.’
She kicked harder. ‘Not until you tell me what, by the darkest underworld serpents, happened!’
He turned back. ‘Nothing happened, unless you count the fact that I kept you alive.’ He propped himself up on his elbow. ‘Rosette, calm down. The blizzard had us stopped in our tracks and you were frozen and soaked to the bone—your skin was blue and your eyes glazed over. Scylla found shelter just as you collapsed. You would have frozen to death if I hadn’t got you under the furs with me and the felines.’
‘Naked?’
‘Of course naked, Rosette! Naked bodies generate heat much faster than ones in wet clothes. I started a fire and hung a skin tight over the entrance. I stripped us both, and with me on one side and the familiars on the other, by the grace of the mountain gods, you came back to life. If grace we can call it…’ He mumbled the last sentence: ‘Maybe it’s more a curse.’
‘What?’
‘Completely back, it seems, with only slight memory deprivation. Are you satisfied? Can we sleep now?’
Crossing her arms, she watched him brace for her retort. ‘I’m not satisfied.’
‘Didn’t think so,’ he sighed.
‘I still haven’t been told a thing about this journey. What are we going to do when we reach the summit? Tell me that, at least.’
An’ Lawrence didn’t answer. He lay there, his head still propped, staring at her, his brow forming into a deep frown.
‘What’s wrong now?’ she asked.
‘Where did you get that?’ He pointed at the silver pendant around her neck—a crescent moon nestled in a five-pointed, sapphire-tipped star.
‘Stop changing the subject! I want to know why we are here.’
‘Rosette, answer me, please. This is important: where did you get that pendant?’
She touched her throat, fingering the star tips. ‘It was a gift, if you must know. I can’t see how that’s of any importance at this point.’ She held it in her hand protectively.
‘A gift from whom?’
She’d never heard him sound desperate before. It startled her. She took a deep breath and let it out. ‘It was an initiation gift from Nell, my mentor, though that’s really none of your business.’
An’ Lawrence rubbed his jaw, his eyebrows going up. ‘How old are you?’
‘For demon’s sake, what’s this about? Didn’t you even read my apprenticeship application?’
‘Just tell me how old!’
She could see the intensity in his eyes and the tension around his mouth, even in the dim light. ‘Twenty-two,’ she replied.
‘Twenty-two?’
‘Do I need to say it again?’
He shook his head.
‘What’s the big fascination with my jewellery and my birthday, Sword Master? Has the cold sent you daft?’
He didn’t take his eyes from her neck. ‘The big fascination, my fractious witch, is that I had that pendant made twenty-three years ago as a solstice gift for the woman…I…um.’
‘Go on. The woman you what…?’
‘A woman I worked with,’ he said.
Her eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean? Who? Who’d you work with?’
‘It’s whom…’
She growled at him and sent another kick his way. He moved his leg back before she connected.
‘I worked with Nellion Paree. The pendant was for her.’
Rosette was blank for a moment before sucking in her breath. She stared at him as she pulled the furs up around her neck and clutched her knees, her brow wrinkling. ‘There must be many like them.’
‘It was a one-off commission.’
‘That doesn’t make sense. Nell gave it to me at my initiation saying…’ She put her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.
‘Saying what?’
Rosette didn’t speak.
‘Tell me!’
She said: This is a message to your source for the day you meet again, for the first time. She sent the words directly to his mind. She couldn’t speak them aloud.
‘Your source?’ he asked.
‘That’s how she put it.’ Rosette closed her eyes and rocked.
‘Until you meet again?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered.
‘For the first time?’
‘I didn’t know what she meant.’ Rosette looked out into the dark. ‘And I still don’t.’
‘I think I do.’
She continued to look away. ‘Well, I don’t.’
‘Rosette, whatever family you grew up with—those that called you daughter—I don’t think they were blood kin.’
‘What are you saying?’ Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks.
‘I’m saying,’ he reached up and touched the pentacle and then her tears, ‘that this was a message to me. I think you’re my daughter, Rosette, my child with Nell.’
Rosette’s jaw went tight. ‘That’s not true. My mother is Bethsay Matosh, and if Nell was my mother why would she have given me away and not raised me herself? Why wouldn’t I have known all this?’ She blurted the words before she could stop them.
‘Bethsay Matosh?’
Rosette regretted her slip the moment she spoke. She had kept the secret so well.
‘It’s true, then,’ he said. ‘You’re not a de Santo. You’re not even a Rosette, are you?’
Her eyes refilled with tears. When she closed them they overflowed, washing down her face. ‘I am now.’
Maudi, I thought you were going to sleep.
She hugged Drayco to her. Dray, I think Nell might be my mother.
Of course she is.
Rosette grabbed her familiar’s head and stared into his orange eyes. What?
She’s your mother, or sister. You have the same blood.
How can you tell?
I can smell it.
And the Sword Master. Did you know about him too?
No, Maudi. That was a surprise.
She let out a breath that she hadn’t realised she’d been holding and wiped her face on the furs. A mask hid her feelings, covering her turbulence with a seamless calm.
‘So, Sword Master,’ she said, her voice in perfect control. ‘This must mean I have a good chance of getting the apprenticeship. A blood-tie counts for much, does it not?’
He studied her features closely. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. You look just like her, save for the eyes. They’re like my mother’s.’
Rosette lifted her chin and looked past him. ‘The apprenticeship?’ she asked again.
He looked directly at her, forcing her to connect. ‘I think we can say the apprenticeship is yours, Rosette.’ Her face remained smooth, unchanged.
‘It’s about time.’
Jarrod dismounted and led the copper-red mare to the edge of the stream. The water flowed around chunks of ice and jutting boulders. They were back in the cold and he didn’t like it one bit. He also thought it might have been a mistake to have rushed off without getting further supplies. He had grain for Wren but only dried meat and frozen mulled wine left for himself. He would need to make a fire tonight.
He pulled Wren’s head out of the stream. ‘Ten sips at a time, girl,’ he said, keeping her head up when she tried to drink again. ‘You’re lathered and that water’s ice-cold. I can’t have you foundering on me.’
He looked up at
the mountain pass. There was a blizzard raging up there. The golden rays of sunset streaked across the dark clouds making it look like a battle of the sky gods. If Rosette and the Sword Master were up there now, their chances of survival were on the edge.
He scouted for a place to camp that wasn’t packed with snowdrifts or soaked with brown slush. How people made a life in these regions, he had no idea. He scanned the undulating hills, realising that no-one did. The place was barren, empty. He led the mare along the face of a steep cliff before finding a sheltered gorge. The rocks were almost warm to the touch from the day’s sun, and the wind didn’t reach it at all. Wren nudged his back, prompting him to enter, clearly liking the choice.
He marvelled at his horse’s endurance. He had ridden almost non-stop for two days and until now she’d shown no signs of fatigue. He unsaddled her and filled her feedbag to the brim. Slipping the silver bit from her mouth he replaced it with the burlap bag and she dived savagely into the hay cubes and grain.
‘You’re one strong companion,’ he crooned as he curried her thick winter coat, steam rising where the saddle had been. ‘Thank you, milady.’
Picking up each hoof, he checked for stones or loose nails and ran his hand down her legs, feeling for swollen tendons. Nothing. She’d be fit and sound, ready to climb the pass tomorrow—if the storm cleared.
Jarrod made a fire with what fuel he could find. Fortunately, the little gorge had trapped a great deal of driftwood from previous floods. They’d lodged in the shrubs and rocks and the twisted shapes were dry and combustible. In moments he had a comfortable blaze going, placing his little pot of dried beef soup on the coals that were already burning red. He flipped open his book—a novel about leviathan sea creatures said to dwell in the southern seas—reading aloud to the mare as he melted drinking water and mulled wine. When the sun had well and truly set, he wrapped himself in furs and fell asleep. Nell would find him tomorrow, and together they would find Rosette.
Rosette awoke to the stares of Drayco and Scylla. The two sat only inches away from her face, motionless, burning with intention. She stretched and smiled at the remnants of a delightful dream, her eyes focusing slowly in the dim light.
