Strange Attractors (43 page)

‘I, um…’ Shaea had no idea how to respond. ‘Thanks.’ She headed for the pub at a brisk walk.

Riding horseback was definitely something to get used to, and so, it seemed, was talking to people. When Shaea reached the double doors of the noisy pub, she halted. All her life she’d been excluded from the warmth and congeniality of such establishments. She was a street child, unwanted and uncared for. Oddly, there was a certain comfort in that. She knew who she was, where her boundaries lay. Even though the lines that marked her life were jagged—like debris that clogged gutter drains, broken glass windows in abandoned cellars, the edge of night creeping into her hiding places in the hours before dawn—she was still Shaea, sister of Xane, and she was alive.

This other world—the one where she rode horses instead of cleaning up after them, ate fresh food instead of begging for scraps, wore fine clothes instead of filthy rags—it was all new. The edges were smoother and though it attracted her, it repulsed her as well. It was foreign and she didn’t believe, no matter how she
looked in the mirror, that she belonged. How could she?

Stop gawking and get in here, girl.

The familiarity of Rall’s voice, harsh and demanding, eased her mind. She pushed through the doors and into the warmth of the gathering. Her eyes were cast downward, her movements slow and hesitant. It would be far more comforting if she were hunched over a rubbish bin in some Corsanon back alley.
But I hated that life, didn’t I?

Now you’re dawdling! Straighten up. Look bright. Do you want to draw attention?

No.

Then stop acting like a misfit.

She squared her shoulders, lifting her eyes off the floor. Rall was right. She didn’t want to draw attention but it was already too late for that. Heads turned and conversations stopped. Shaea swallowed the bile in her throat and searched for Rall.

The room was packed, smoky and animated. Voices talked over the music, the rhythm loud and lively. She pushed through the gathering, avoiding eye contact, until she found Rall at a table against the side wall. She kept her eyes locked on the witch, unwavering, until she caught a glimpse of the musicians playing on a small stage in the back. Her mouth gaped open at the sight of them. She whistled through her teeth.

That’s hardly subtle, dear. I do want you to tell me if you recognise anyone but try not to signal it to the entire establishment.

Shaea’s mouth snapped closed.
I know that guitar player.

It’s obvious he knows you too.

Clay thrummed out his chords, standing as Shaea walked past. He beamed a smile at her.

Come and sit down, Shaea! Ignore him.

‘There you are,’ Rall said aloud. ‘Horses settled?’

‘That’s where you sent me, so of course they are,’ Shaea said.

‘Yes, Mistress’ would do better, girl.

Who are we trying to impress? If it’s those lads on the stage, it’s too late.

The word is ‘whom’, and no, not the lads. Play along.

The tone in Rall’s mental voice made Shaea lift her chin. ‘Yes, Mistress.’

That’s better.

‘The horses are well taken care of. I saw to their feeding myself and…’

Don’t overdo it.

Shaea closed her mouth to keep from snarling.

‘Do you know these musicians then? From your time at Treeon?’

I’ve never been to Treeon, and you know it. What’s the game?

The game, girl, is to seem one thing and be another. You aren’t playing well, I promise.

‘Not from Treeon Temple, Mistress, but from the quarry road in Corsanon.’

At the mention of Corsanon, even though the word came quietly from her lips, their corner of the pub hushed over. The music stopped and there was a brief silence before the crowd cheered for more. Shaea thought she could see steam coming out of Rall’s ears.

What are you doing? I told you not to mention Corsanon.

Then why did you ask me about it?
‘Is it too late for supper?’ Shaea said aloud. ‘I’m famished.’

Rall stood, her fists on the table, her black curls bouncing as she dropped her head level with Shaea’s.

‘And what would you fancy, young witch? Some bread and soup perhaps?’ Rall’s jaw locked tight.

‘That sounds wonderful, thank you,’ Shaea said, folding her hands in front of her.

I should have left you in the gutter!

No, Rall. I should have left you in the gutter!

‘I’ll order us soup then.’ Rall straightened, patting Shaea’s hands. ‘You can tell me all about your friends when I get back.’

Shaea watched Rall push her way through to the bar. Most of the punters stepped back to give her room though some, drunk and oblivious, had to be nudged aside. Shaea was fascinated by the power of the woman. Could this really be that old stick insect she knew as a child?

A hand touched her shoulder and she nearly jumped out of her skin. ‘What are you doing here, beautiful?’ Clay asked.

‘Me? What are you doing here?’

‘Playing music, of course. Where did you get to, Shaea?’ Clay shoved his red curls up into his knitted cap. ‘You left without a word.’

‘I’d say it was the other way around.’ Shaea pointed a finger at him and he grabbed it, pretending to bite. She tried to pull away but he brought it to his mouth and kissed it. Her eyes widened. ‘You were gone when I got back to the portal,’ she whispered.

‘And you were nowhere to be found when we left.’

‘But here we are now,’ she said, her face lifting. ‘How strange.’

‘It is.’ He leaned in close. ‘What are you doing here?’

She shrugged then whispered into his ear, ‘I’m doing as the Entity has told me.’

‘The what?’

‘The Entity. The guardian of the portal. It speaks to me.’

He cocked one eyebrow. ‘It speaks to you?’

‘It does.’

He leaned forward, his lips brushing the curve of her ear. ‘The Entity didn’t speak to me, but a High Priestess did. I’m working for her,’ he said, tilting his head back towards Shane. ‘We both are.’

‘How?’

‘We’re playing music and watching out for the High Priestess of Treeon Temple. There’s something going on with the temples. Something big.’

‘Which High Priestess of Treeon Temple?’ she asked.

He was about to reply when Rall returned to the table.

‘Who’s your friend, Shaea?’ Rall asked. ‘Please introduce us.’

‘This is Clay, a lad I met…on my way here,’ she said.

Where, girl? Say it plain.

‘Corsanon!’ she said, her arms crossing.

Not aloud! Pests and demons, you don’t understand this at all, do you?

Shaea stuck out her lower lip.
How could I when you haven’t taught me anything?

‘Pleased to meet you, Clay, though there’s more to that name, I’m certain. What brings you to the edge of the Mobbie Desert, if I may ask?’

‘I’m honoured by your interest, Mistress. I’m a journeyman bard, playing in the outlands of Treeon until the end of summer. It’s part of my apprenticeship.’

‘Then it’s been plain luck to find you here tonight. What a coincidence.’

‘Plain luck it is,’ Clay said, looking over his shoulder. ‘I’ve more music to perform, so if you will both excuse me.’ He gave a smile and was gone.

‘Is that what you mean?’ Shaea said, leaning back in her chair.
Because he was certainly playing a game with you.

He was. And I know exactly who put him up to it, too.

I’m happy for you, Rall, but I’m still in the dark.

R
osette opened the barn door, the sweet scent of alfalfa and oat hay rushing to meet her. The chickens cackled and she led them out the back, scattering scraps over the ground. With them out of the way, she poured grain for the cow and retrieved the silver bucket from the milk room. ‘Oh, Delilah, I’m so grateful for your cream. It goes perfectly with hot pancakes and strawberries. Don’t you love spring?’

Delilah mooed, her long rasping tongue sweeping up the grain. She would calve soon and the goats would kid as well. ‘We could supply Dumarka with butter and cheese, at the rate you are all freshening.’ Rosette grabbed the low stool and plunked herself down, resting her cheek against the cow’s golden flank. ‘And I will be full of milk too. Any day now.’ With the pail between her knees, the rhythmic motion of her hands and the milk streaming into the bucket became hypnotic. Her mind wandered, reaching out to Drayco.

She couldn’t speak to him in her usual way. He was in another world, with herself in another form. It would be jarring to communicate so she sensed for him instead, searching for his silhouette, allowing the image to play across her mind. She sighed, spotting him in the underbrush. She saw herself as well. They were near the Corsanon gorge, hidden in the reeds, watching the water. In her vision, she had her arm around Drayco’s neck, his rumbling purr making her fingertips vibrate. She smiled, both aspects of her feeling satisfied, connected.

As the pail filled, she felt a warm sensation along her spine, though when she reached for the cow’s hip to pull herself up, the warmth turned into a ripping pain. It lasted for thirty heartbeats and vanished. Rosette’s forehead was damp with sweat, and she leaned against Delilah who looked back at her with huge brown eyes. ‘What was that?’ Rosette whispered.
Am I being spelled?

Bracing her back, she waddled over to the gate and latched it open. ‘You don’t mind if you find your own way to the paddock this morning?’ she said to Delilah. ‘I’m not feeling up for the walk.’ The thought of getting back to the cottage seemed daunting enough. She covered the milk pail and collected the eggs, the pain not returning. Perhaps it had been a cramp from sitting on the low stool. It felt like her body had doubled in size, after all, and it was bound to be hampered by certain positions.

Or the baby is coming, Maudi.

Drayco, my love! You can talk to me!

Of course I can, when you are asleep on this side, it’s easy for me to find your mind there. Either way, here or there, you are still you.

She smiled, relishing the sound of his voice, catching up on his doings as she shuffled along towards the
cottage, bucket in one hand, basket in the other. He was telling her about the rabbit he caught when the pain struck again.

Maudi?

I’m fine
, she said, panting. Her knees wanted to buckle but there was no way she would let them, not with a full pail of milk and a basket of eggs at stake. She started to call for help but didn’t have the breath for it.
Excuse me, Nell? Are you busy?
She sent the mental message through clenched teeth.

There was only a moment’s hesitation.
Rosette! I’m coming. Breathe!

Rosette took a deep breath but it was knocked from her as pain gripped her body. The pail fell and white milk splashed to the ground, disappearing into the soil without a trace. She dropped to her knees. The eggs rolled from the basket, cracking open, bright orange yolks sticking to the new spring grass like strange wet flowers.
Nell. Help!

It was the longest day Rosette could remember and the longest night. By morning she couldn’t pretend the look on Nell’s face meant everything was all right, though her mother’s words were soft, encouraging, loving. Grayson’s too. He remained calm and strong, holding her up when the contractions came, allowing her to sink deep into each one. She’d panted, walked, focused, turned and twisted but nothing was helping. The baby didn’t come.

Night turned to day again and for the first time ever she saw fear in Nell’s eyes, and Grayson wouldn’t look her way at all. She pushed, screaming, the roar of Drayco echoing in her mind, though no other sound came when she finally birthed her child. The cottage went deathly quiet.

‘What’s wrong? Nell? How is she?’

Rosette struggled to get up, but Nell eased her back down, her hand on her heart. ‘Give me a moment.’

Still there was no coo. No cry. No movement from the baby. Finally Nell passed the limp body up to her and she held him to her breast. Her eyes closed, tears streaming down her cheeks. He was perfect, not a flaw or a mark, though his eyes stared at her, unseeing. Deep, empty eyes. Lifeless. Her tears fell onto her baby as she sobbed.

Nell massaged her belly and Rosette was barely aware when the afterbirth came. They washed her and changed the sheets around her as she held the dead child. Grayson pressed a steaming cup to her lips. She drank without tasting. ‘I don’t understand. Nell? What happened?’

‘It was a boy.’

‘I see that. A perfect boy, but why did he die?’

‘We can’t carry males, Rosette.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Nor do I. This has never happened before.’

Rosette touched her lips to her lifeless child’s forehead. ‘Why can’t we bring him back, like you did me?’

‘He’s gone.’ Nell shook her head.

‘But he got this far. He nearly made it.’

‘He did. Nearly. Rest now, Rosette. Let your body heal.’

‘What about my heart?’ She looked at Grayson.

‘You have to let that heal too.’ Nell soothed her, brushing out her hair and weaving it into braids.

Rosette clutched her child and cried, a torrential sorrow overtaking her.

Rest
, Nell said again, and followed with words Rosette couldn’t understand, a deep spell woven over the top of her head.

Nell, despite her exhaustion, conjured a healing. Rosette felt the comforting lassitude infuse her limbs. It pulled her out of her body and into another world. She surrendered to it, leaving to the goddess and her mentor’s wisdom whatever would come next.