The Spell of Rosette (22 page)

‘You’re back,’ he said.

‘I feel…’

‘Yes?’

‘I feel…totally refreshed!’

‘That was the goal.’

The proximity to him, the resonance of his voice and the crackle of the fire, the flickering candles and the smell of food made her senses quiver. Energy surged through her body as she watched his movements, his presence, his mindfulness of her. It felt wonderful. He felt wonderful…only one thing seemed not quite right.

It was a niggling thought, a perturbing sliver in her mind. In all this rush of energy and power, she could tell he withheld something. Maybe it was a plan or an intention. Maybe he had a hard-on for her and didn’t want her to know. Maybe not. All she knew for sure was that he kept a secret. It reminded her of the way she felt around Clay.

‘Thank you, Sword Master.’

‘My pleasure, Rosette—that’s some nasty bruising around your shoulders.’

‘Zero,’ she said and pressed her lips together.

‘Fast, isn’t he?’

‘Like a striking snake.’

‘Tomorrow, I’m going to teach you how to outmanoeuvre him.’

‘Tomorrow?’

He nodded as he placed the steaming bread and a plate of butter on the table.

She frowned. How could she learn that in only one day?

‘You’re very receptive,’ he said.

Was he kidding? With his touch who wouldn’t be?

‘Thank you,’ she said around a mouthful of hot bread. ‘Is there honey?’ She was starting to think of him sexually and wondered if he felt the same.

Forget it. You’re here for something else.
The reply from her familiar came like a blunt arrow, jarring her out of the fantasy.

Drayco, I was just…

The Sword Master has news. You have to pay attention.

Do you have a direct line to him now?

Scylla speaks with me. I like her.

That’s nice, Dray. Keep her talking.

A link to the Sword Master’s thoughts via his familiar would certainly be handy. She paused. Unless it went both ways.

She’s not asking about me, is she?

‘I think you’ll like this,’ An’ Lawrence said before she heard an answer.

He carried two bowls filled to the brim and trailing a spicy scent that made her mouth water. As the aroma drifted over the table, her body turned to follow.

‘What is that?’

‘
Avan-chak
—spiced bean curd cooked with fruit, chilli, pine nuts and wild rice. Old family recipe.’

‘You come from the Prieta range?’ She knew he didn’t, but she asked anyway. Their dishes were known to be as exotic as their lifestyle. Those remaining nomadic tribes were fascinating, a people scattered throughout the region, holding to the old ways and the old gods.

He shook his head, as she had expected.

‘Where, then?’

‘Beyond Corsanon.’

Rosette had no idea what was beyond Corsanon. ‘Where?’

‘To the east.’

She frowned. ‘Is it a secret?’

‘You’d know.’

‘Pardon me, Master?’ Rosette stared into his eyes.

‘I think you know what I mean.’

‘I’m sure I do not.’

‘Eat up. We have much to talk about.’ He placed two other bowls near the hearth and looked up at the rafters. ‘Scylla, bring your new friend down,’ he said aloud. ‘I’ve saved some raw meat and bones.’

The temple cats were on the floor, pacing towards him before he’d finished his sentence.

They toasted, dining in silence. It was not a tension waiting to break, but a curious expectation. Rosette closed her eyes with every bite and exhaled slowly. The food was divine.

‘More?’ he offered, as her wooden spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl.

‘A touch,’ she smiled. ‘Please.’

‘A touch it is,’ he said returning to the kitchen.

Is he flirting with me?

His voice altered when he sat down, direct, stern. ‘Rosette, you’ve been moved into my school for a reason.’

Definitely not flirting.

‘A reason?’ she asked, slipping another spoonful into her mouth. She didn’t close her eyes this time. She fixed them on him. Could this be it? The apprenticeship?

‘We have something very specific in mind.’

Her face fell. ‘We?’

‘The High Priestess and I. We’ve selected you to perform a certain task. We thought there’d be more time to prepare, but it turns out there isn’t.’

Rosette stopped eating and put down her spoon. ‘What kind of task?’

‘I can’t say yet, only that it involves crossing Los Loma undetected.’

‘This time of year?’

‘It’ll be chilly.’

‘Chilly? Are you insane? It’s solid ice and blizzards up there.’

‘I won’t pretend there are no risks in the travel, let alone the rest of the assignment.’

‘What
rest?
’

‘An exchange, if things go to plan.’

‘And if they don’t go to plan?’

‘There’ll be fighting.’

He reached for the flagon of wine and re-filled their glasses. She lifted hers, but did not take a sip. ‘I’m hardly ready for such an assignment.’

‘I know.’

Rosette glared at him before taking a long swig. ‘Then why do you want me?’ she asked, placing her empty glass down on the table.

‘Partly because of your ability to shield your thoughts and use your magic undetected, and partly because you’re not without other inherent skills, though I still can’t work out why, unless it’s in your blood. Is your mother a witch?’

‘No,’ she lied.

‘What about your father or grandparents?’

Rosette laughed at the thought. ‘Hardly.’

‘Curious. But either way, by the next moon, your sword skills will be tenfold.’

She had a pretty good idea how many hours, days, months and years it would take to make that true.

‘You’re saying I’ve only a matter of weeks to prepare for this adventure?’

‘A little less.’

Rosette turned to stare out the front window. All she could see was his reflection, watching her like a bird of prey, golden in the fire’s glow.

Sounds exciting,
Drayco chimed in.

‘Drayco’s coming.’ It wasn’t a query.

I’ll be there. He’s not an idiot.

‘Of course your familiar will accompany you.’

‘And?’ She raised both eyebrows. ‘Who else?

He looked away.

‘You aren’t telling me that’s it, are you? Me, Drayco and the mountain of Los Loma? Midwinter?’

An’ Lawrence took a long drink before answering. ‘You’ll be travelling with me.’

And Scylla,
Drayco added. It was a smug, happy cat sound he made in her head.

She glanced up to the rafters and saw Drayco licking his lips. Scylla hissed, then chortled, then hissed again.

Terrific!
‘Sounds real fun,’ she said under her breath. She lowered her eyes and stared at her bowl. There wasn’t much left, but she suddenly felt full. ‘How long will we be away?’

‘I can’t say.’

‘Will we be on foot or horseback?’

‘Haven’t decided.’

‘Why are we…’

The Sword Master cut her off with a wave of his hand. ‘I can’t tell you anything else about the journey, Rosette de Santo. Stop asking.’

‘What can you tell me?’

‘Nothing, except that it will involve stealth and deception, and you’ll need to be fit. Very fit. How do you go in the cold?’

‘I hate it.’

‘We’ll get you a new sheepskin coat.’

‘Thanks.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘Can I just ask one other thing?’

He crossed his arms in front of his chest and ripples of fear ran down her spine.

‘My apologies, Sword Master.’ She bowed her head. ‘No more questions.’

Well, no more aloud, anyway. He couldn’t control what bounced around in her mind. What could he possibly be up to? Los Loma offered no easy crossing, and though she had never been near the summit, she had some knowledge of what might be found on the other side: the greater mountains of Prieta. One didn’t go there without a good reason. Kreshkali had a stronghold underground, or so she’d heard.

‘Just the four of us?’ she asked, her voice seeming thin and high to her own ears. She didn’t want to anger him further, but if she was going to risk her life, she had a right to know.

Shaking his head with a half grin, An’ Lawrence replied, ‘That’s all for tonight, Rosette. Go and rest. We’ll begin training at dawn. I want you fighting fit in two weeks.’

‘I thought I had three?’

‘Two. We need the final week for something else.’

She pushed back from the table. Summoning her courage, she spoke again: ‘Please tell me this means I’m in line for apprenticeship?’

He looked her up and down. ‘It’s being considered.’

She nodded. ‘Getting ready in two weeks—that’s going to take
some
magic.’

‘Yes, it is.’

‘I thought that was taboo, especially for an
unassigned
initiate,’ she probed, emphasising the last two words as she cleared her place.

‘I plan on using what’s necessary, and so will you. Go get some rest, and take your familiar with you.’

Rosette looked up to the rafters. Scylla had her companion backed into a corner, though she was purring like a waterfall.

She likes me,
Drayco sent.

‘Are you sure?’ Rosette asked, smiling.

It’s unnerving. How peculiar does this feel? I don’t know what she’s up to.

‘It’s like that, Dray—it’s like that.’

‘What’s like that?’ the Sword Master queried.

She shook her head and nodded towards the ceiling. ‘Just something between them.’

Drayco jumped lightly to the stone floor and stretched before the Sword Master. Rosette was surprised. She didn’t remember him showing such respect to anyone else besides Nell, no matter what their standing in the human order of things.

An’ Lawrence seemed momentarily stunned. Then he smiled and Rosette suspected he’d gotten a message from Scylla, who still hovered amongst the rafters overhead, watching.

The Sword Master roughed Drayco’s neck. ‘Some of us will get along, it seems,’ he said, and showed them to the door.

Nell communicated with the Watcher whenever she felt the need. She used whichever portal was nearest, and today it was in the ruins of Temple Dumarka, half a day’s walk from her cottage, less as the crow flies. All she had to do to link with the Watcher was to touch the field of energy, an undulating electromagnetic pulse that was obvious to any witch of her calibre. She could go there physically—in her body—or simply through the astral space in meditation. Either way, the Watcher’s voice bypassed her empirical senses, communicating on a sub-cellular level. That is, when it chose to communicate at all.

She called it the Sphinx, a being, or composite of beings, who answered her questions with a complexity of riddles, more cryptic than clear. Still she would ask, when the need drove her, though she was never certain of the information or how to interpret it. This time, her mind was reeling from the paradoxes. The Watcher, on the other hand, seemed to think it a game. It snorted at her request.

You find this humorous, Great Sphinx?

You must appreciate the audacity of your request, Nell.

Is it audacious to want to preserve life in the many-worlds?

By the means that you suggest, it is. I can’t have you playing with time. Too messy.

She frowned. What was the Sphinx on about? If time was an illusion, what was so tricky about manipulating it to her ends? She tried again.
I realise time’s not what one normally tampers with, but under the circumstances I don’t know what else to do.

The Sphinx didn’t respond—usually a sign that she’d missed something obvious in a previous statement. She searched her mind, coming up blank.

You aren’t going to help?
she asked after a prolonged silence, suspecting the Sphinx had gone. The strength of the reply startled her.

I’m not going to alter time to suit your needs. Think of something else, Nellion Paree.

I’ve tried. There isn’t anything else.

The Sphinx laughed, a deep belly laugh that rippled through her skin.
Are you sure?

Nell clenched her jaw.
No, I’m not sure. That’s why I am here, asking for your help.

More chuckling.

Nell crossed her arms, resisting the temptation to tap her foot.

The chuckling stopped and the Sphinx made a sound much like throat clearing.
Have you thought of the future?
The communication was soft, seductive.

Of course I’ve thought about the future. That’s all I’m thinking about, day and night.

Not like that, Nell…

What do you mean?

Have you thought about how the future can change the past, without worrying time at all?

She let her arms drop to her sides.
You’ve lost me, Sphinx.

Think of it this way: if you go back to the past, it becomes your future, does it not?

She considered for a moment.
I suppose.
She looked up.
Are you talking about reversed causation?

The Sphinx clicked, an impatient sound.
What is it about being in a physical body that keeps you holding to the notion that causation has direction – either forward or back?

Nell curled her lip.
Perhaps it has to do with ageing. Have you heard of it? The process of being born, growing up and dying? Sequential timelines, sunrise, sunset and the predictable path of the planets are also a hint. Everything else we learn from nature…
She let her voice trail off, realising suddenly that she sounded like a narrow-minded cleric. Nell took a breath.
Time’s not directional? Is that what you’re telling me?

Warmer.

Not forward or backward?

Correct. Consider the shape of a spiral.

Nell let that sink in, though her mind remained murky.
I don’t get it.

Consider this metaphor, Nellion. Causation is like dropping a stone into a pool.