Strange Attractors (6 page)

I suspect he is thinking the same of us.

She squared her shoulders. ‘I’ve nothing to justify. He vanished and we came looking. Simple as that.’

What about the part where we disobey the direct request to stay in the Dumarkian Woods and tutor Teg in the star lore while Kreshkali went tracking him down herself?

‘He doesn’t know that bit, does he?’

If not, he soon will. Would you deceive him?

‘No, it’s done. No point trying to paint it different colours.’ She rubbed her arm. ‘Where is Kreshkali, anyway? She left before us.’

Wherever she is, whatever has happened, there is no point worrying.

Rosette stroked the temple cat’s back. He was stretched out like a sphinx and she kissed the top of his head.

‘Well said.’

Drayco purred and she closed her eyes, exhaustion taking over, especially now that she was back in her human form. Her stomach growled. ‘I’m famished.’

I will hunt for you, Maudi, just as soon as we are away. Is there water, though? I’m thirsty.

‘Good idea.’ She got out her waterskin and took a long swig, then cupped her hand as she poured out a drink for her familiar. When he’d finished lapping, she took her damp hand and stroked the fur of his face, wiping away dust until his coat glistened jet black. She got lost in the depths of his amber-orange eyes for some time before suddenly stiffening. ‘What’s keeping them?’ She stared out the portal entrance.

Drayco’s hackles were up, but he didn’t reply.

‘Drayco? Do you hear something?’

I hear many things, Maudi.

‘Of course, but do you hear the sound of the others charging into the portal after us?’

He pricked his ears.
I hear the warhorse. Stand back!

‘Oh crap. Here he comes!’ She struggled to her feet and jumped aside, pressing against the corridor wall as the clip of iron-shod hooves sounded at the entrance. The golden warhorse rushed in, ears back, nostrils flaring. Rosette held out her hand to him, reaching for his reins as he reared, trumpeting a challenge. ‘Easy, big man,’ she said, sending a waft of tranquil energy from her fingertips. ‘We’re safe here. The battle’s over.’

The stallion brought his head around to her shoulder, whiffling in her scent. He did the same to Drayco and fluttered out his breath, clearly deciding all was well. She ran up the stirrups and loosened the girth a few notches. ‘You’ll need water too. Where are the others?’

She went to the edge of the portal, tendrils of energy reaching out to her as she passed. ‘Not yet!’

Too late. The portal blurred, streams of colour racing by.

‘Oh, Dray. Not this again.’

We’ve left them behind?

‘You were meant to wait,’ she said to the Entity. Her voice was a whisper, her eyes welling.

It’s all right, Maudi. I’m sure they would have got through behind us.

Tears fell down her cheeks.

Why are you so upset?

She pushed her fists into her eyes and shook her head. ‘I’m not upset.’

His tail snapped the air.
Really?

‘All right, I am upset, but not really. I mean, I feel waves of emotion at the slightest thing lately. It’s like I’ve turned into a little water-sign child.’

Drayco sat down.
It’s the litter. They always bring up emotion.

‘I wish you would stop calling her a litter. I’m only having
one
!’

He ignored the emphasis.
In any case, I trust we’re heading for the Dumarkian Woods?

‘We’d better be.’

I shall rest until we arrive.

Without waiting for her response, he laid out flat and closed his eyes.

Shaea kept her head down, her body pressed against the rock. She thought of nothing but dirt and shale, willing herself to remain camouflaged. She knew the goddess of good fortune was with her when the captain mounted up again. He stared at the place in the road where she had left her shovel as if looking straight through it. A command was barked, repeated by his second, and the troops charged away at the gallop. Even though there was still no obvious access to the portal, at least she hadn’t been picked off the cliffs like a fly on the wall. There were archers among that party. Thank the goddess she hadn’t been spotted.

Curious, that
, she thought to herself. While working her way down towards the hole in the ground where her shovel still rested, buried to the hilt in the mud, she considered her options. It was the first time in her life she had thought of a future alone. Xane had always shared their choices, even the small ones like which alley should they sleep in or how much of the mouldy bread could they eat without getting sick. She laughed to herself as she moved from grip to grip. It turned out that they had eaten the whole loaf, green fuzz and all. When it hadn’t hurt them, they made a practice of it. She suspected that was why they were
the only ones on the street didn’t get consumption every winter.

‘There’s something in the mould,’ the old witch Rall had said, her lips revealing a toothless grin. ‘You put the right one in the brew and the sickness is banished.’

‘What if you put the wrong one in?’ Shaea had asked.

‘Eat the wrong one?’ She’d laughed. ‘You die.’

Shaea wondered what would have happened if she’d got to Xane in time, if she could have saved him from his wound. She shook her head. There was no blood left in his body when she’d found him. His life had been drained clean out. ‘Demons!’ she screeched.

The footing gave beneath her and she dropped, saved only by her right arm. Her fingers dug into the tiny cracks, a miniature ledge in the rock. It held her weight until she could find purchase again. She thought her shoulder would come straight out of the socket before she finally managed to thrust her toe into another chink.
Focus, Shaea!
Keeping her mind on the descent, she shimmied her way down the cliff and jumped the last few feet to the causeway below. The mud splashed her legs and sucked at her thin-soled boots. It oozed between the stitching and chilled her bare feet.

She stepped up to the shovel, rubbing her hands together and blowing into them. This was it. It was either figure out the secret to the portal or go back to the streets. She jingled her pockets. She had enough gold to get out of the city now, but she’d never get a coach dressed the way she was. She’d have to clean up. Her brow wrinkled. She wasn’t completely sure how to go about such a task.

She gazed towards the west where the riders had gone. There was no sign of them. The only thing
around was the brightly coloured kingfisher perched on a dead branch. ‘What’re you looking at?’ The bird flew off towards the high towers of Corsanon and Shaea returned to her problem. ‘And what’s your secret, little door? I can understand hiding from the warriors but surely you can let me through. I’m just a girl.’

There it was again—a kind of ripple of energy, like someone had thrown a stone into a pond. Only this was no pond and the ripple had a purple hue.

You are not just a girl, and I am no ordinary door.

Shaea jumped, her eyes wide. She looked behind her, searching for the source of the sound. Slowly her head turned back to the mud hole. ‘What did you say?’ she asked the ground, the air barely passing over her lips.

You referred to me earlier as a little door and I found that somewhat condescending. Same goes for you as a ‘girl’. If you want passage into the corridors, you’ll need to reappraise yourself.

‘Demon guts and bile, you can talk?’

That wasn’t the improvement I was anticipating.

‘Huh?’ She scratched her head. ‘I have no idea what you’re on about, but I need help. I’m desperate. Will you let me pass? I bear no harm, nor do I harbour any guile.’

Shaea wasn’t certain what ‘guile’ was but she remembered Rall talking about the Entities, guardians of the portals. She’d remembered every word, the story had impressed her so. Rall had a chant for it that she repeated to herself late at night. Shaea closed her eyes and said the words as she had heard them.

‘Round the worlds, worlds round. Found the entrance, entrance bound. Who shall pass, pass not with guile. Who shall try, shall only fail…’ She never heard the rest of the evocation as Rall would mumble it to herself. But when Shaea opened her eyes, the little
rent in the ground was gone and before her was a crevice, an opening that led into a cave. With a deep breath she stepped forward, the tendrils of purple light dancing out to touch her arm. It stopped her sharply, a searing pain.

Not so fast, Shaea of Corsanon. Bring me the witch Rall. I must see her before I can let you through.

‘Rall? You want me to bring you Rall? But she’s…’ Shaea’s words were cut short and she was thrown backward, smacking her tailbone hard on the ground. The crevice had vanished and so had her shovel. Mud seeped over the pothole without a sound.

She rubbed her backside. ‘You want Rall that bad, do you? Just don’t go away. I’ll fetch her, though how I’m going to get that old witch out of the city is more than I can think of.’ Shaea studied the pothole. ‘Any suggestions?’ When there was no reply, she let out an oath and kicked the ground.

She huffed. It was a good hour’s climb to the top where the huge tunnel drains led back into the city. In wet weather they ran full, the effluence plummeting down to the quarry slues that seeped out into the fields. Fortunately, it was the dry season, more or less, and the way clear. She headed south, preparing to climb the ancient quarry stairs—a safer path than the cliff face, but less direct. On her way up the broken steps, she pondered what to say to Rall. How would she convince the old woman to come, and what would she say when she returned without the witch’s shovel? She’d borrowed it this morning with the idea of digging for wild yams at the edge of the Corsanon Fields. That was before she felt the burning pain, before her brother had died. Darkness swept over her face. What would she say when she returned without Xane?

G
rayson folded his sketches and tucked them back into his notebook. He’d been staring at them for so long the images were starting to jump off the page. They were unusual animals, arranged in a stylised totem that Rosette had described some time ago. It was her idea for a new work, one that she would receive when she finished her apprenticeship. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
A while back?

It was almost a year ago now. They were at Treeon Temple, sitting in the apple orchard, finding shade from the summer sun. She’d told him about a dream she’d had and the animals that featured in it. They hadn’t had time to discuss it further. He hadn’t even shown her the sketches. When they last talked, the topic was on other concerns—mainly his desire to pull back from their ‘relationship’. He clicked his tongue. It was hardly a relationship by his standards. Gaelean witches had different ways.

A knock on the door brought his head up.

‘Enter.’ He reached for a pen.

‘Am I disturbing you?’ Hotha stood in the doorway, Fynn squeezing past.

The young dog made to jump up but Grayson held out the flat of his hand. ‘Sit, lad. I’m working.’ Grayson closed his notebook and scratched Fynn behind his ear. He turned to Hotha. ‘Just finishing up for the morning.’

‘You’re usually so busy I have to wait in line to catch you,’ the Lupin said, his voice light.

He might as well have been talking about the weather but Grayson knew he had something more on his mind. ‘Someone’s coming in after lunch but I’m free now.’

Hotha pulled out a chair and sat, resting the side of his head on the palm of his hand. ‘I’m gathering news,’ he said. ‘And it’s not shaping up into what I’d anticipated.’

Grayson waited for him to go on.

‘I thought you might know something…more.’

‘More than what, Hotha?’

‘More than what I’ve heard from Dumarka.’

Grayson tucked his notebook under the bench. ‘Is it Rosette? She’s having trouble settling in?’

Hotha shrugged. ‘You don’t know more then?’

Grayson shook his head. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I’m not certain.’ Hotha’s eyes wandered as he took in the rows of coloured bottles on the shelves. He picked one up, turning it around in his hand. It was a brilliant pansy violet.

Grayson took the bottle out of his hand and returned it to the shelf. ‘Has something happened to Rosette?’ he asked.

Hotha hesitated.

‘Just tell me what you do know, please.’

‘Maka’ra was meant to be there, at the cottage in Dumarka with Rosette and Teg.’

‘Teg is with her?’

Hotha smiled. ‘She’s teaching him star lore and Earth literature and he’s…well, he’s babysitting, though I don’t imagine he’d complain. Rosette’s…’

‘Babysitting?’

‘Well, that’s not how I’d put it to them, of course, and it’s not completely descriptive. They are advancing in their craft and looking after each other.’

The furrow between Grayson’s brows deepened. ‘I don’t follow.’

‘Teg was my apprentice originally and I’ve wanted to keep a close watch on him, with Kreshkali gone. Teg’s looking after Rosette and Maka’ra’s checking up on them both.’

‘I don’t see the problem or, quite frankly, the need. She can look after herself.’

‘Of course, but it seemed a sensible precaution, if a bit overprotective. The thing is, we got word from Maka’ra. Nobody’s there.’

Grayson stood up, his chair scraping the tiles as it slid back. He began straightening his instrument shelf. ‘What do you mean? Annadusa delivered her last week. She told me…’

‘She did escort them there, but the cottage is empty now. I sent a scout from Los Loma Prieta and they confirmed it. No sign of them, not even a note.’

‘Horses?’

‘Grazing in the paddocks.’