Strange Attractors (44 page)

Maudi?

The baby didn’t live, Drayco.

I know. I was there.

Why didn’t he?

Sometimes the spirit draws back.

It was a boy…

Not meant to be.

I’m coming soon, Drayco. I need to be with you.

Drayco’s purr echoed in her mind.
You’re here already, Maudi.

Xane pulled his mare to a halt. He could see the others ahead, spreading out through the forest. He knew he was meant to keep up, stay on track, but what he felt overwhelmed him. A deep sadness washed through his mind and he reached out towards it, towards its source. ‘Shaea,’ he whispered. ‘Is that you? Are you hurting?’

It didn’t seem like Shaea but what else could it be? He didn’t have any other bonds. He cared for no one else in such a way, save his charges. Could Grace be injured? Fortuna? The awareness that struggled to be free screamed at him and he glimpsed it for an instant—a dazzle of stars, lights and whirls—too much for his mind to comprehend. He shut it away, turning his attention to his hands, their grip on the reins, the mare’s crested neck, the way her mane flowed like a rippling grain field, the sound of his laboured breathing. Anything to keep him grounded right here where he was. Anything to keep him from drifting into that ocean of stars that threatened to engulf him.

‘Who am I?’ he whispered. He didn’t know if he was asking himself the question or some other being lodged inside his mind. ‘Who am I?’ He wasn’t certain any more.

Teg looked at Kreshkali, watching her pupils expand until her eyes were black. She’d been talking about La Makee, giving him a full history of the witch’s life achievements, both glorious and catastrophic. Teg had been mesmerised, the sound of her voice and the proximity of her heart making his own race. Then she had stopped mid-sentence, her mouth going slack, eyes dilating.

He knew what it meant. She was in her other presence. She was with Nell. When she stirred, her pupils shrank, her eyes closed. Tears ran down her cheeks and he reached to brush them away. Her hand came up, catching his, her eyes opening. She looked past him. ‘It’s Rosette.’ Her voice was difficult to hear, a whisper swept away by the wind.

‘What’s happened?’ Teg leaned closer. ‘Is it the baby?’

Her long fingers laced with his. She squeezed his hand once before letting go. ‘The baby’s dead.’ Kreshkali stood. ‘I best tell Hotha.’

‘And the Sword Master?’

She nodded. ‘Of course. Him too.’

Teg got to his feet. ‘Can I go to Rosette? She’d be…’

‘She’d be gone.’

‘Where?’

‘I don’t know. Nell wrapped her in a healing spell straight after and she vanished.’ Kreshkali’s forehead furrowed with lines.

She looked golden in the late afternoon light. Teg reached out but she shook her head.

‘Bring Hotha to me, and An’ Lawrence. Please.’

Teg’s heart pounded and he turned away, leaping over a log and morphing into a wolf midair. He found the conflicting emotions too much for his human form. The wolf could handle them though. The wolf knew what to do. As Lupin his emotions sat without judgement or restraint, pure energy in honour of his feelings—for Kreshkali as well as Rosette. In that instant he had an image. It flashed into his mind like a bolt of lightning, illuminating his thoughts before disappearing again.

In that flicker of vision he saw Rosette, her body lithe and strong, arms wrapped around her familiar as they sat in the reeds, hunkered down, watching the Corsanon gorge. He sent the vision to Kreshkali and her voice came back to him, warm and comforting.

Good work, Teg. And thank you.

Mistress?

For being there.

He glanced back before bolting away, seeking first Hotha and then the Sword Master.

Shaea went to fetch the horses, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Her idea of freedom in another world seemed far away, a distant dream. Here she was, at the start of another day, her backside sore, arms aching, heart broken. The food in her belly had tasted strange—Rall said that was because it was fresh—and the despair of her brother’s death sapped her strength. She wasn’t where she wanted to be, not yet, but she would play along, pretending to be Rall’s apprentice for a little longer. Long enough to earn the confidence of the Entity. Long enough to learn to travel the corridors on her own and get somewhere else. Somewhere better.

The stable doors were open, the sunlight streaming in. It was warm already and she took off her cloak, tossing it over the railing. The two stable girls came around the corner, arms full of hay, faces smiling. ‘We fed yours first. That mare was banging on the manger fit to break it loose.’

‘Thank you,’ Shaea said, looking over the railing at the bay mare. She was nosing around in her manger for more.

‘Just a wisp, and then we ride,’ Shaea said to her. She gave both horses a small flake of hay and set to grooming them.

The shorter of the two stable girls stopped to watch. ‘You didn’t come back,’ she said, smiling.

Shaea shrugged, continuing to groom the horse. ‘I couldn’t get away.’ The girl moved off, the chores keeping her occupied. By the time Shaea had the horses tacked, saddled and bridled and ready to ride, she realised Clay had been watching her as well.

‘You’re not leaving without a word again, are you?’ He cringed as he spoke, pressing his hand into the side of his head as if to keep his brains from falling out.

‘I’m surprised to see you up, Clay, after what you drank last night.’

‘Did I drink that much? I can’t recall.’

‘Really?’ She laughed. ‘It was way too much.’

He unlatched the stall door. ‘What are you doing? Going off with the witch?’

‘Like I said last night, I’m her new apprentice.’

Clay grabbed her arm, pushing up her sleeve. ‘You don’t wear the tattoo of an initiate, Shaea.’

She jerked her arm away, the horse’s head flying up. ‘I do.’

‘Where?’

‘None of your business.’

‘Shaea, this is dangerous. You don’t know what you’re getting into.’

She levelled her eyes on his. ‘That’s where you’re wrong. If anything, you’re the one who’s on the cliff edge.’

Clay frowned. ‘Like Jarrod? On the quarry steps?’

She closed her mouth, lips tight. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Clay started to speak but her eyes shot past him to the entrance. ‘Get out. She’s coming. And you’re right—it is dangerous. Beware.’ She opened the stall door and swung it wide, tilting her head towards the back of the barn. He took the hint and left, disappearing behind the haystack before Rall appeared.

The witch wasn’t fooled. She followed the path of his exit, tapping her fingers on her staff. ‘Having a little farewell, are we?’

‘He thinks I’m in danger, is all.’

Rall smiled, a hungry look. ‘He’s inconsequential. We will be there and back before he knows we’ve left.’

‘But he’s already seen me tack up, Rall.’

Rall unfocused her eyes, letting a stream of sounds escape her lips. ‘Not any more he doesn’t,’ she said, straightening her cloak. ‘Let’s go.’

‘What did you do?’

Rall glared at her and Shaea cleared her throat, trying again.

‘Where are we headed today, Mistress?’

That’s not something we will be discussing aloud. Have you forgotten how to send a mind message already?

Hardly.

Well then? Your question please?

Where in blazing demon’s balls are we going now?

Rall covered her ears.
No need to shout.

Where then?
she said softly.

We’ll camp under the shadow of the eastern Prietas tonight and cross to Corsanon in the morning.

Back to Corsanon? Why?

There’s something to retrieve.

A treasure?

You can call it that, if you like.

Who’s it for?

You, Shaea.

Me?

You will have the honour of carrying it.

‘Well, I hope it’s not heavy. I’m already sore as cuss from riding so far.’

‘It’s light as a feather, my dear. Mount up!’

Shaea led the bay mare out into the sunshine, following Rall and the golden warhorse. She took a deep breath, shielding her mind. When she felt her thoughts were tight, well secluded from the probing mind of Rall, she searched for Clay and Shane. She kept the shield up, and sent them a querying message but there was no answer. Maybe they couldn’t read thoughts at all. She hoped that was it. The other option was too distasteful to consider.

After a long walk to warm up the horses and her aching muscles, she urged the mare forward, cantering beside Rall, heading towards the unknown treasure. She smiled. On reflection, this was much better than spending her days in the gutter, arms stretched out towards passing strangers, hoping for a coin or crust.

Grayson stood at the edge of the path, the depths of the Dumarkian Woods behind him. He’d walked with Nell in silence; they’d buried the baby near the old temple ruins, a young weeping willow planted to mark the spot.

‘
Make me a willow-cabin at your gate, and call upon my soul within the house
,’ he had said, reciting the ancient playwright William Shakespeare.

‘
Write loyal cantons of contemned love
,’ Nell whispered. ‘
And sing them loud even in the dead of night
.’

It was like being in a dream. Nothing felt real, neither his boots on the cold ground and the shovel over his shoulder nor the wings of the Three Sisters swooping past. Particularly not his aching heart. ‘She should have been here, for herself as much as for the infant’s honour.’

‘Should?’ Nell shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. Rosette doesn’t believe in death. How could she, after experiencing her own so recently?’

Grayson frowned. ‘Nell, that’s a ridiculous paradox and you know it.’

‘I do.’

He drifted off into his thoughts as they walked back to the cabin. He wanted to undo the past. He wanted to go back to that moment in the late afternoon heat of Temple Los Loma and tell Rosette he felt differently now. He wanted to go back and ask what was important to her. Instead, he had assumed he knew, without discussion, and he had withdrawn. Later, when they had talked about it, she’d said it was the natural proclivity of his sun sign, Cancer—Cobra as she called it—to self-protect.
What was I protecting from?
He couldn’t see the big fear any more. Was it intimacy? Uncertainty? Vulnerability? He had none of that with Rosette now and still he’d buried his child.

He kicked the dirt, shooting a rock out ahead of him. It caught Nell on the leg and she spun around, eyes blazing.

He ducked. ‘Sorry, I just…’

‘Just thought you might share the pain?’

‘No, I…’

‘Grayson, listen to me. If you want to change the past, do it.’

‘Easy for you to say.’

‘It is, for me, and for anyone. Care to learn?’

He caught up to her, switching the shovel to his other shoulder. ‘Please.’

‘It’s simple but you have to let go of the grudge.’

‘The grudge?’

‘The self-loathing-style resentment you are broiling in. I know the sign of the Cobra well. It has a knack for holding onto the past. I want you to drop it, at least long enough to see how your grip is making things worse.’

‘How can it make things worse if it’s already happened?’

‘Simple. Every time you re-visit the thought, you set it alight. You empower it to continue its creation.’

‘I don’t get it.’

‘Grayson, you’re a quantum geneticist. This is not beyond your grasp.’

He sighed. ‘I’m trying.’

‘That’s the problem. Forget about trying and visualise it.’ She pulled out her short knife, testing the edge. ‘Give me your hand.’

He hesitated.

‘Trust me.’

He laughed, holding up his palm. She took it and immediately gouged him.

‘Ouch!’ He snapped back his hand. ‘Nell, what’s that for?’

‘Your education. Now, think about that pain. Focus on it. Feel only the pain.’

‘I am! It’s all I can feel.’ He pressed the wound to stem the bleeding. ‘That really hurt. Look.’ He held it out to her, blood rushing into the grooves of his palm and around the back of his hand. ‘That’s going to leave a scar.’

She patted his cheek. ‘Walk with me, Grayson.’

He carried on down the path while she chatted about something Rosette did when she was young. It was a delightful story and he pictured her there, a small child scampering away from the nanny goat as fast as she could run.

The Three Sisters cawed in the distance; the sun was finally warming his face. Nell clapped her hands, bringing him out of the reverie.

‘Think about your palm again. Remember how it felt?’

‘I do. It hurt like demons.’ He held out his hand, staring at the red mark and crusting blood. ‘It needs suturing, you know. At least three stitches.’

‘Good. Focus on that. Think of nothing but how much it hurts.’

‘Nell, this isn’t helping. It hurts worse than when you first did it.’

‘Ah.’ She smiled. ‘Is it making more sense to you then?’

Grayson stopped. ‘Are you saying that re-visiting the past is affecting the present?’

‘It’s more like the future is affecting the past. The further you go into the future, the more you are getting stabbed in the past.’

He scratched his head.

‘Grayson, the mind doesn’t know the difference between a memory and a current event.’

The furrow between his eyes deepened. ‘What?’

‘There is no difference between the process of remembering, imagining and seeing. The mind has no sense of time, so everything is experienced as real and in the present, whether it’s already occurred or a fantasy about the future.’

‘This is proven?’

She laughed. ‘You’re such a scientist.’ She took his hand and held her palm over it; the redness and discomfort vanished at once. ‘It is part of the natural paradigm on Gaela, so there is no proof needed here. On Earth, centuries ago, it was known but the information was withheld.’