Strange Attractors (32 page)

Shane frowned at him. ‘You sound like you’ve been talking to Rosette.’

‘Not near as much as I’d like.’ He shook his head. ‘I still can’t believe I have no memory of her.’ He put down his guitar. ‘What’s it to be? Do we let Shaea enjoy her green haven while we teach each other a new tune?’

‘Then back to the portal with a destination in mind?’ Shane said, taking off his pack.

‘Sounds like a good choice to me,’ Shaea said, not waiting for either to answer. She wandered down the broken steps to the edge of the ruins.

Shane shrugged. ‘Beats getting drowned in Corsanon, but let’s not stay overlong. I don’t think this place would feel so cheery after dark.’

Clay agreed and played a slip jig, one Shane had never heard before.

‘Slow it down, just a step. Is that A major?’

‘A major seventh.’

Shane took off his wet cloak, picked up his flute and played along.

Shaea listened to the music as it followed her down the path. It became fainter when she skirted the ruins, fading into the background and replaced by the sound of buzzing insects, noisy mynah birds, woodpeckers and the increasing flap and caw of forest ravens. She felt she’d died and gone to heaven, the aroma of pine cones, redwood bark and blackberry blossoms filling
her senses, the colours of leaf and branch and sky tantalising. She didn’t recognise most of the herbs and trees. Nothing like this grew in Corsanon’s streets, or even hung in the markets. She pinched each leaf and vine between her fingers, lifting it to her nose, taking in the fragrance and textures. It was intoxicating.

Thank you, Entity, for bringing me here. It is a wondrous place, no matter what the others think!
She sent the feelings of gratitude in all directions, tilting her head towards the sun, again twirling around, arms flung wide. Caught up in the dizzy sensations, she imagined a young man minding Xane’s charges. At first he looked like Xane but she knew it wasn’t him. He stood on the parade ground, the black mare, golden palomino and a Desertwind grey in hand. It looked like a legion was about to march.

Don’t wander your mind so far, girl. There’s work to do.

She stumbled, her boot catching on a root. Was the Entity speaking to her again?
Work to do?

That’s right. Enjoy your little meander in the woods, breathe in the sweet scents, but it’s back to me when I call. There will be no waiting. The bard was right. You don’t want to be here after dark.

Shaea scratched her ear. Had she really heard the Entity or was her imagination going wild, stimulated by this rich environment?

You heard correctly. Listen for my call.

She looked over her shoulder. The wind had shifted and the music sounded so faint she wasn’t sure they were still playing. Marking her spot with an X of branches, she carried on. The exploration had lost some of its enchantment. Her new-found freedom had a leash. What work? What did the Entity mean by that?

She shrugged then skidded down a bank to the edge of a babbling stream. She washed her hands, marvelling at how clean they were even before she submerged them. She thought of Xane, buried beneath the white oak. Tears fell down her cheek and mixed with the babbling brook, her sobs lost in the sound of the stream, the ravens and the gathering wind. Alone at last she fully mourned his passing.

Drayco sat in the tub, Rosette leaning over him with a stiff bristle brush. His coat was finally clean, the last of the sticky blood washed away though the water was tinged deep red.

‘You need a good rinse now.’

The waterfall pool would be nice, Maudi.

She roughed his neck. ‘Perfect. Let’s go.’ Rosette straightened only to squat back down. She groaned, her brow knitted tight.

Maudi?

‘Just a twinge,’ she said, rising again slowly. Her knees were shaking. ‘I guess I can’t stay in one position for so long these days.’ She panted, waiting for the gripping feeling to subside.

Drayco leapt from the tub and shook.
Do you want me to get Kreshkali?

‘No!’ She laughed. ‘No, I’m fine. I think when the time comes I would rather have Nell with me anyway.’

They are one and the same, Maudi.

‘Technically they are but…’

Nell’s not quite so fierce?

‘With me? Yes, that’s one reason.’ She pulled the plug, letting the water drain towards the filter system and the crops below. ‘But I’m fine now. The feeling’s past.’

Swim?

‘Lead the way.’

Drayco shook again and loped towards the palm-shaded bathing pool, Rosette waddling behind. They dove in together, both making a big splash. The water was warm, almost too hot in the midday sun. Plumes of black smoke still rose from the distant mountains, the peaks of the Sierras, but Temple Los Loma remained clear, pristine under the protection spell, save for the slivers of ash filtering down from the sky like tiny black threads.

‘How long can it last?’ An’ Lawrence said.

He sat by the edge of the pool as she floated on her back. Drayco dog-paddled to the edge and climbed out, giving Scylla a nose touch before shaking the water from his coat and lying on the hot tiles. He began licking his fur.

‘Not long if we can’t get Jarrod back,’ Rosette answered. ‘How are they going in there? Ready for me yet?’

‘They sent me to find you, but that’s not what I meant.’

She tilted her head, taking his hand as she climbed the steps.

‘I meant, how long is your pregnancy going to last?’

‘Good question!’ She swiped water from her arms. ‘I’ll need to have a good look at those images too.’ She reached for his book.

He held it back. ‘Come. Dry off first. You can study on the way.’ He looked at her belly and frowned. ‘You feeling all right?’

‘Fine,’ she said, taking the towel he offered. ‘Never better.’ When they got to the library she had a clear picture in her mind of the images and what they needed to amplify. Grayson would do the rest. If he could see
the embedded message codes, he could translate them. All she and the others had to do was enlarge the image of her DNA and project it onto a wall.

‘There you are. What have you two been doing? Raiding the kitchen?’ Kreshkali asked.

‘Washing enemy blood from Drayco’s hide,’ Rosette said, pushing damp hair out of her eyes. ‘But food’s a good idea. Can we…’

‘Later. Grayson needs to see this now.’

See what I mean, Drayco? She’s cranky with me.

You’re right, Maudi. Nellion would have let us make lunch.

‘Teg!’ Kreshkali motioned him to her. ‘Help me clear this wall.’

There was one corner of the library free of books and covered with a tapestry. They took it down, leaving the smooth white wall for their projection. Kali, Hotha, Teg, An’ Lawrence and Rosette, with the temple cats on either side, sat in a semicircle facing it. Grayson was behind them, ready with his sketchpad. Fynn was asleep under the table.

‘I’d rather enter the data directly into the computer. It would be faster that way.’

‘It wouldn’t,’ Kreshkali said.

‘Electrical power supplies disrupt the streams,’ Rosette said to explain what the High Priestess had not.

‘The streams?’

‘Of consciousness. We need a one-way path from the amplified image of my DNA to that wall. Having the computer on is like throwing out a sand bar in the middle of a smooth-bottomed bay. It would put waves where we don’t want them.’

Grayson nodded. ‘I’ll record by hand then. I’m ready.’

Kreshkali began. She chanted in a deep tone, calling in the Elementals, Fire, Earth, Air and Water. Her voice was joined by the men’s as Rosette visualised the structure of her DNA, amplified one billion times. She imagined the right-handed double helical twist with its upper and lower grooves, following it further by tracing the skeletal-like structure. Each adenine and guanine base, the energy-carrying molecules, took shape as she focused on the bonds to the complementary nitrogenous opposites, the thymine and cytosine bases. She pictured it as she’d been taught, as the image in the text portrayed, each base and phosphate group individually amplified larger and larger.

When Kreshkali’s chanting shifted, Rosette drew her image up from her body and, linking to the minds of everyone around her, projected it onto the wall. Slowly she opened her eyes, swallowing the shock of what she saw. The double helix structure was beautiful, like gemstudded serpents entwining a golden branch. Within it was the ancient caduceus, the Hermetic staff of healing, filled with light, moving to the rhythm of her heartbeat. At the base of the rungs, the energy emitters unfolded like a deck of tarot cards spread face up across an emerald cloth. Running the length of the cards were streams of code, each figure the size of an egg, clearly distinct as they scrolled from top to bottom—a river of symbols, as individual and sparkling as snowflakes. She felt a thrumming in the back of her throat as she joined in with the chant, maintaining the vision spectacular.

When the image finally faded, her stomach growled and her throat felt dry. She blinked her eyes a few times and Drayco came to her side, gently head-butting her shoulder. ‘I hope that was enough, Grayson, because I’m really famished now,’ she said, stretching her arms high overhead.

Drayco’s fur was dry, his coat smelling of chamomile and sage.
I’m hungry too, Maudi.

‘Did you get it all?’ Kreshkali asked.

‘I’ll know soon enough,’ Grayson said, moving to the closest computer and powering it up. ‘What I can say is that was more stunning than any electron microscope I’ve ever looked down. You’re all amazing.’

‘Done and well done,’ Kreshkali said, giving the traditional mentor’s approval, directing it to Teg and Rosette.

‘Excellent.’ Rosette mopped her brow. ‘Then no one will mind if I go see about some food? Teg? Are you coming?’

Teg looked towards Kreshkali and she nodded. ‘Bring something back for us as well.’

Rosette cradled her belly as she led the way out of the library, Teg and Drayco close behind.

Xane woke slowly, the dawn turning the barracks a rosy peach hue. A dream hung at the borders of his mind, like sharp-clawed creatures struggling to climb over the edge of a pit. Their grip was failing, some dropping, swallowed by the depths, but one or two hung on, carrying snippets of memory like dog bones for him to grasp. The strain he felt was inexplicable. There was something important for him to understand but as he fully awoke it slipped away.
Only a dream after all
. He rubbed his eyes.

In the dream he’d been riding a copper-red mare, bright as a forge fire. She was strong and supple, and they were climbing through a high mountain pass. The sky was clear, the air cold and he shivered with the memory. He was searching for someone, worried about her. He could almost see her face, almost remember her name. As he crested a rise, the mare shied, frightened
by a cloaked woman standing close to the edge of a precipice. He asked her if she’d seen the girl he was looking for.

‘Xane!’ Willem shouted.

Xane sat bolt upright, banging his head on the bunk.

‘Wake up, lad. You’ve missed first call.’ Willem shook him.

The dream faded like wisps of smoke in the breeze. ‘Yes, sir.’ He pulled on his pants and shoved his feet into his boots. ‘Sorry, sir.’

‘You’ll ride with me today. Saddle Grace and Fortuna, and the new grey. She’s in stall twenty-three. And mind her hindquarters; she’s only green-broke. Pack for an extended journey. We march at second call.’

‘March?’

‘We’re paying a little visit to the Dumarkian Woods.’

‘We are?’

‘We, and a legion five hundred strong. Saddle up!’

‘We’re marching on Temple Dumarka?’

‘Are you still dreaming, lad? Get packing!’

The Dumarkian Woods? Does this mean a temple war?

Willem disappeared and Xane realised he was the only one left in the barracks. He’d lost time, somehow, in his thoughts. He shut his eyes, rubbing his face.
What’s happening to me?

He finished dressing and ran to the mess hall where he grabbed bread and cheese and a few apples from the barrel. When he reached the stables, the place was buzzing—horses were being tacked up, packs filled, feed sacks loaded onto mules. He made his way to Gracie’s stall and groomed the three horses he was in charge of, checking their hooves and making sure to
pack a small hammer, rasp, nails and a clinch block.
If I’d thought of that before, the mountain horse would never have come up lame.
He rubbed his neck, the scab still rough.
What mountain horse? There’s not a one in this lot, though we’ll wish there was before we’re through.

He slipped a hoof knife into his pack as well. What nonsense was he thinking? He’d never been further out of the gates of Corsanon than to the temple and back and that was yesterday. What did he know of the road to Dumarka? A sudden chill took him. He was leaving Corsanon proper for the first time in his life. He had to find Shaea. He couldn’t just disappear. And this march—it wasn’t a peace party; he may never return.

He left his three horses cross-tied in their stalls, tacked up and ready to go. If he could only get a glimpse of where Shaea was, he could race to her and be back before he was missed. Xane closed his eyes and thought of her, surprised at how detached he felt. He used to spend most of his waking hours worrying if she was safe, if she had food, if she was being abused. They grew up in the streets together and she was left without him to watch her back. Why did he feel so removed from her now?

It wasn’t that he didn’t care about her; he just couldn’t feel her the same way he used to. As he searched his thoughts, he sensed a buzz of excitement, as if all those clawing creatures at the bottom of his mind were going to burst out at once.

‘Xane, there you are. Daydreaming!’ Willem said.

His eyes popped open. ‘Yes, sir?’

‘Bring the horses to the parade ground. We’re leading the scouts.’

‘I’m riding?’ Xane was shocked. He thought he’d be marching far behind, catching up only in the evenings to feed and groom the mounts.