The Spell of Rosette

by Kim Falconer

  Kreshkali had prepared the place weeks ago, gutting the entire level save one bedroom and bath, turning it into an expansive and well-appointed hall. It had wall hangings from Los Loma, rugs from Flureon and colourful overstuffed cushions from the looms of Morzone. It hadn’t been hard to trade for the luxuries, for here or her dwellings in Los Loma and Dumarka. One thing there was plenty of on Earth, besides decomposition, was gold coin. Useless now that water was the prime commodity, she could pick gold out of the gutters or trade for it in shops, a box of water credits buying her a king’s ransom in coin.

  The rest of the floors in the building were taken up by Annadusa’s lot, the rebels she’d been gathering for years—over one hundred strong. So far, not a single tracker had gotten wind of them.

  She stretched again. ‘How long have I been out?’

  ‘A few hours,’ An’ Lawrence said. He was examining a rack of swords that she’d commandeered from Treeon. ‘How you got Makee on your side, I can’t imagine.’

  ‘I have my ways.’

  ‘I remember,’ he winked. ‘What about the rust? This environment’s ruining their edge already.’

  ‘Oil them.’

  ‘When we shut down the solar shield and let the sun shine in, it’ll be less of a problem,’ Jarrod said.

  He was at the table with Clay and Zero. Rosette sat on the couch with Drayco, her back to them all.

  ‘How’s that?’ An’ Lawrence asked.

  ‘No more acid rain.’

  ‘That fast?’

  ‘Not really, but it will lessen, slowly over time, until the rain is sweet again.’

  ‘Because…?’

  ‘Once those shields are down, people can use solar power again and stop burning combustion fuels and trash. There’ll be less exhaust smoke and fewer fires puking out wastes that damage the pH balance of the atmosphere.’

  An’ Lawrence looked around the room, his face confused.

  ‘Smoke’s dirty; solar power’s clean,’ Rosette explained, clipping the words without turning around.

  Kreshkali looked at An’ Lawrence, her eyebrows raised.

  He shook his head.

  ‘Kreshkali,’ Rosette continued. ‘The cupboards are empty. What do you expect us to eat?’

  ‘There’s plenty of Nutries.’

  ‘They don’t count,’ she said, turning away from the fire and looking Kreshkali in the eyes. ‘Disgusting green paste.’

  ‘Don’t throw them out! You never know when we’ll need them, even with new supplies.’

  ‘So you did bring something decent?’

  ‘I did, and I’ll cook it up while we work out the last of the plans.’

  ‘Last? I didn’t know we had a first.’ She turned her back again and stared at the fire.

  Rosette felt her guts turning. The only thing that kept her from screaming was the quiet purr of Drayco and the insistent thought that this would all be over soon, one way or another. Between ASSIST, the environment and the witch-trackers, she didn’t think any of them had much of a chance. She would do her part, because it was her inheritance, but if she got out of this alive, she didn’t plan on coming back, or ever seeing any of them again.

  Maudi?

  We’re going to go deep into Dumarka and never come back.

  He flicked his tail, continuing to purr.

  ‘Come to the table, Rosette. We need you in on this.’

  She squared her shoulders and took the seat next to her mother.

  ‘Here’s the plan,’ Kreshkali said, tapping the blueprints. ‘Jarrod deactivates the orbit sequence of the solar panels and brings them down.’ She paused. ‘A soft landing, please. And you’ll need to take less than a few nanoseconds to do it because once you’re in, the worm is baited, so to speak. An’ Lawrence, Rosette and you two,’ she nodded to the familiars, ‘can keep the exit open. We get him out before he’s consumed, and then level the place. Comments?’

  ‘I particularly like the last bit,’ Jarrod said. ‘Where I get out in one piece. My only question is, how’s it to be done? And fast! I’ve been here too long already. I can all but feel that worm crawling under my skin.’

  ‘Can’t we send him back through the portal?’ Rosette asked. ‘Keep him safe while we work out these details?’

  ‘Too late for that. Jarrod’s right. The worm’s hovering. It would have him the second he passed the plasma.’

  Rosette frowned.

  ‘It’s the electromagnetic pulse of the portal Entity. The worm would sense me as soon as I touched it again.’

  ‘Then what are we going to do?’

  ‘We’re going to be quick!’ Kreshkali placed mugs on the edges of the blueprints to keep them flat. ‘In and out before they see us coming.’

  ‘Do you need me in on this?’ Clay asked, patting his guitar. ‘Or…’

  ‘I’d love some music,’ Rosette said. Her eyes softened towards him, but he didn’t look at her.

  ‘Music you’ll have then,’ he said. Clay set up at the far end of the flat, playing a series of traditional guitar pieces from Gaela. The music filled the room with a melodic ambience, easing the tension at the table.

  ‘Let me see if I can summarise what we’ve got so far.’ An’ Lawrence spoke up after a lengthy tactical debate. Jarrod had given his interpretation of their choices and it had left them stunned. ‘First we get into the ASSIST complex, which is as heavily guarded as any high temple, with DNA-triggered lockdown protocols.’ His face had a puzzled look. ‘Whatever that is, and guards on every level, each armed with repeating razor rifles.’

  ‘Laser,’ Jarrod corrected.

  He paused. ‘What exactly is that again?’

  ‘A beam of red light that cuts through steel like a knife through fat.’

  ‘Right. We get past all that, overcome the security blocks, contain the researchers, identify our contact—which could be anyone: scientist, guard or janitor. Is that right so far?’

  ‘Basically, yes.’

  ‘We get to the mainframe, Jarrod inserts the access codes, and if—“if” being quite important here, I think—they still work, shut down the satellite that is controlling the solar shields. Does that about sum it up?’

  ‘You forgot the part where we all get out alive,’ Kreshkali said, ‘before I level the place.’ She gestured towards the stockpile of explosives under the kitchen shelves.

  He threw his hands up in the air. ‘It’s suicide, heading straight for disaster. How are we going to pull this off?’

  ‘We aren’t going in half-cocked,’ Kreshkali replied. ‘We have the blueprints and…’

  ‘You don’t think there might have been some changes in the last century or two? A bit of remodelling, perhaps?’ An’ Lawrence flicked at the plans.

  ‘Good point.’ Jarrod rubbed his chin and turned to Kreshkali. ‘This is why we need the mole.’

  ‘The what?’ Rosette asked. She turned to Jarrod, eyebrows up.

  ‘The mole is the contact—our man inside—put in place before I escaped.’

  An’ Lawrence stared. ‘Two hundred years ago?’

  ‘Not the original. He’s long dead, but his descendant is there, if things went to plan.’

  ‘Another “if”?’ He lifted his chin. ‘I rest my case.’

  A knock sounded at the door and they all turned around. Jarrod opened it, letting Zero in.

  ‘They’re warmed up and waiting,’ he said to An’ Lawrence.

  The Sword Master stood and drained his cup. ‘Get a few up here to help me with these blades and I’ll be right down.’ He turned to Kreshkali. ‘You think I can teach over fifty of these rebels to wield a sword without cutting off their own thumbs in, how long?’

  ‘About twelve hours,’ she said.

  ‘Twelve hours?’ He shook his head. ‘I hope you come up with a better plan while I’m gone.’

  Several students came into the room, each dipping their head to Kreshkali as they entered. They filled their arms with the sheathed swords like stacks of firewood
and headed back out.

  Rosette tied on her belt and went with them.

  ‘You’re going to help me?’ An’ Lawrence asked.

  ‘Somebody’s got to.’

  Jarrod’s eyes followed her until the door closed. Turning back to the table, he spoke softly, music still playing in the background. ‘Kali, we have a problem.’

  ‘Just one?’

  He frowned. ‘It’s the mole. If I can’t identify him, it’s going to be a very risky venture.’

  ‘I think it’s time you met Annadusa. She’s convinced her son will spot you straight up.’

  ‘Her son?’

  Kreshkali nodded.

  ‘He’s the mole?’

  ‘That’s what she claims.’

  EARTH

  CHAPTER 21

  Kreshkali headed down the spiral steps. The way was dark, only the landings illuminated by small lanterns. Annadusa was on the seventh floor, just below the training level. The underground Resistance movement, her new coven, occupied all fourteen storeys now. She stopped on the eighth floor, pausing by the open door to the training space. Like the rise and fall of an ocean swell, students moved with their swords. Some were working the forms, a prescribed dance that incorporated many blocks, cuts and counter-movements. Zero was demonstrating a sequence to a group of new recruits. Others were moving up and down the floor engaged in cutting practice, their swords singing out as they sliced through the air at various angles. Rosette was busy teaching a group to draw and sheath the live blades without slicing their hands off. Before continuing down the steps, Kreshkali bowed quietly to An’ Lawrence and moved on.

  Rosette caught her eye but she kept going, not wanting to interrupt. She knew Rosette was brooding underneath her tough exterior. She hadn’t had time to adjust, let alone put anything in perspective. Kreshkali shook her head. She’d just have to leave her to it.

  When she knocked on Annadusa’s door, she was directed to hydroponics—a whole level given over to food production. It was Annadusa’s pet project, the source of her coffee beans, among other fruits, herbs and vegetables. She even had chickens there now, thanks to a stealthy trip to Gaela. The birds pecked around in well-ventilated, richly planted coops, none the wiser of their new world.

  A blast of golden light and the smell of summer tomatoes, basil and raspberries met her when she reached the hydroponics floor. She took a deep breath. A few gardeners were working between the green foliage that spilled out of rows of planter boxes. The misters were on, making everything sparkle in a prism of coloured light.

  ‘I love this place,’ she said to Annadusa as she approached. ‘It’s like a piece of Gaela’s heart is growing here.’

  The other woman shrugged. ‘I like it a lot better now that we aren’t hand-pollinating every single plant.’

  ‘The Gaelean bees doing their job?’

  ‘And then some, but I want to go back for more. There’s so much we can do, now that we have double the water filtration and the hydro-electrics for light.’

  ‘Wait ’til we get solar power online, and ASSIST off.’

  ‘And then we’ll have real sunshine and no witch-trackers!’ a young girl said, coming up with a basket of herbs.

  Kreshkali smiled. ‘I’m looking forward to that too.’

  ‘What’s next?’ Annadusa asked. ‘I get the feeling you aren’t down here for lettuce and beans.’

  ‘We’re ready for you.’

  Annadusa handed her trowel to the girl and directed her towards the compost bins, giving her a set of instructions.

  ‘Lead the way,’ she said to Kreshkali, and they headed up the stairs.

  Excitement sparked around them, but neither spoke again until they were on the top floor.

  ‘This is our bard, Clay,’ she said, introducing him by opening out her arm in his direction.

  He smiled and tipped his head as he played a haunting tune.

  ‘What a wonderful sound,’ she said, beaming. ‘I’m Annadusa.’

  Clay nodded and kept playing.

  ‘Amazing place you have here,’ Jarrod said, getting up from the table. ‘I saw your gardens earlier. You’ve got the touch.’

  ‘And this is Jarrod,’ Kreshkali said.

  Annadusa blinked, giving a little shudder. ‘Jarrod?’ she whispered. ‘The JARROD? I didn’t know…’ She looked at Kreshkali.

  ‘We made certain nobody did.’

  ‘Jarrod! You’ll be wanting to meet my son,’ she said, closing the distance between them. She gathered him into her like a mother hen. ‘But I’d better warn you,’ she said, turning to look back at Kreshkali. ‘I haven’t had a word from him in twenty years.’

  ‘Does this look familiar?’ Kreshkali asked as she slid another set of blueprints across the table. They’d been sitting there for over an hour, debating various strategies, coming to no agreement.

  Annadusa studied the printouts, moving a candle closer to read some fine print. ‘Like I said, I’ve never been inside. They took Grayson on when he was twelve and that was thirty-five years ago. We communicated for years until the messages from him started to dwindle, then they stopped altogether.’ She sighed. ‘My last contact was almost two decades ago. There’s been nothing since.’

  ‘Would he still remember his purpose?’ An’ Lawrence asked. He and Rosette had returned from the training session more relaxed. They seemed encouraged by Annadusa’s presence.

  ‘It’s embedded in his blood, like all of us.’ Annadusa smiled at Kreshkali when she looked so surprised. ‘Your very-great grandfather had a bit of a field day with the DNA splicing, didn’t you know?’

  ‘A zealous man,’ Kreshkali said.

  ‘If my Grayson is alive, he’ll remember.’

  ‘Could they have discovered him?’ Rosette queried after a moment’s silence. ‘Realised he was with the Resistance?’

  No-one responded.

  ‘That’s it.’ Jarrod stood and rolled up the plans.

  ‘What’s it?’ Rosette tilted her head towards him.

  ‘I’m going in.’

  ‘In where?’

  ‘Into ASSIST.’

  ‘How?’ The question came as a chorus, everyone staring at him.

  Kreshkali touched his arm. ‘Forget for a moment about the “how” and explain the “why”. Have you forgotten what will happen if the worm…’

  ‘I haven’t forgotten. Don’t worry about that. It’s ever present on my mind. That’s why we can’t wait any longer. We need to do a little reconnaissance.’

  ‘A little what?’ The query again was unanimous.

  ‘I’m going to check the place out, see if Grayson is still there and make contact. Quick in, quick out.’

  ‘I can visualise the “quick in”, but how do you think you’re going to get out, quick or otherwise?’

  ‘Walk, I imagine. Or maybe run.’

  ‘No way, Jarrod!’ Annadusa pushed back her chair and shook her head. ‘It’s too dangerous. The worm will spot you the moment you tap into the system. Besides, you can’t just stroll up to the gates of ASSIST and ask for a guided tour.’

  Jarrod raised his eyebrows as he slipped a rubber band over the tube of blueprints with a snap. ‘Watch me.’

  An hour later, Jarrod ran the fibre-optic thread up the manhole and angled it towards the security checkpoint as a brown delivery truck arrived.

  ‘This one will do,’ he said. ‘You ready?’

  ‘Always,’ Kreshkali smiled. ‘You?’

  ‘Not quite. I can’t see his face.’ He continued peering into the eyepiece, adjusting the knobs forward and back.

  ‘You’ll see plenty of it in a moment.’

  Jarrod turned to her. The spiky blonde hair was gone. It was grey and matted, tangled strands obscuring her face. She stooped her shoulders. Her eyes were vague. Her skin looked yellow and cracked; open sores covered blue-veined arms. She scratched her head and smiled through missing teeth.

  ‘Sacred demons, Kali! That’s one hell of a glamour.’

&n
bsp; ‘Just keep your eye on the truck driver. You’ll get a full frontal view in a moment, I promise.’ She squeezed his hand and rushed down the sewer.

  What a woman, Jarrod thought to himself as he returned to the fibre-optics. Within moments, Kreshkali appeared in front of the gate, between it and the delivery truck. She looked a hoary, bent figure, cranky and disoriented, waving a cane about and stumbling into the mud-filled potholes. It took both the driver and the security guard to remove her from blocking the way.

  Perfect.

  Jarrod got more than an adequate image of his target. ‘I’m ready,’ he said, turning behind him. ‘Do your thing, my lovelies.’ He winked at Rosette and her familiar before pressing his head into the eyepiece again. He sent his visual image of the delivery man to Drayco.

  Got it. The temple cat purred into his mind.

  Rosette didn’t respond. She sat with her familiar, propped up against the opposite sewer wall, nestled in a thick grunnie pelt, deep in meditation.

  Moments later, Jarrod watched as the driver gripped his stomach. His face blanched white, and he moved off to the far side of the vehicle and retched.

  ‘I won’t be long.’

  Jarrod was down the sewer and up the adjacent manhole, except he didn’t look like Jarrod any more. He’d morphed his Tulpa-body into the image of the driver who’d suddenly become ill.

  ‘You okay there?’ the security guard asked him as he appeared around the truck. ‘The old hag could have been diseased by the look of her. What was that stench?’

  ‘I’m all right.’ Jarrod wiped his mouth as he hopped into the driver’s seat. He leaned back, taking a nanosecond to scan the controls.

  It’s a Falcon, he chuckled to himself. My favourite.