The Spell of Rosette (35 page)

Oh, Ruby, be warm. Be well, and safe. Love keeps you in my heart always.

She couldn’t read the signature. It was a scribble, and the ink had smeared. She folded the letter, tempted to take it; Nell might make some sense of the words. But after a moment Rosette put it back and moved away from the desk. There was a spell on this place and though it didn’t feel malevolent, she wasn’t going to put it to the test.

She ran her fingers along the mosaic tiles, stopping at a wall that sported Lupins romping beside long-limbed women on massive grunnies. It looked like a boar hunt or a festival of some kind. She closed her eyes and sank to the cushioned floor. Without another thought of her strange predicament she pulled her coat up to her neck, tucked her arms into its warmth and fell asleep.

Kreshkali flipped the compass shut with her thumb, folding the horary chart into quarters. She put both into her cloak pocket. Could this be it? She’d followed the text, a seventeenth-century work from the most famous astrologer of that time, William Lilly. The instructions were not cryptic in this edition. It was a copy straight from the original work of 1647. She’d memorised the relevant section—the rules for identifying witches.

If the Lord of the ascendant be ruler of the twelfth, and combust the Sun, you must observe of what house the Sun rules, and in what sign and quarter of heaven he and the Lord of the ascendant are, and judge the Witch liveth that way; describe the sun sign as he is, and it represents the person.

The horary chart she’d calculated had Leo rising and Leo on the twelfth, so the Lord of the ascendant was the Sun—as close a combust as you can get. The Sun was in Gemini, in the tenth house, ninety-two degrees of south longitude. She’d checked the Moon’s aspects, and followed her compass here, to this street, to this building, number ninety-two. Inside must be the witch
she was after, and if she did have those Gemini characteristics, she’d be sharp, astute and ready to go, no matter what her age, or his. She’d be a communicator, by voice, letter or message, no doubt with a notebook already in her hand. Kreshkali took a breath and let it out slowly. This venture was a risk, but she had to take it.

The building in front of her was bleak and weathered—indistinct from all the others in the long line of street-front apartments. If anything, it was in the worst condition. The rusted downspouts were hanging at strange angles from their brackets, useless for the most part. Water fell in sheets down the walls, as if the building wept. The windows were empty, lifeless, but from somewhere inside, Kreshkali felt she was being watched.

She climbed the concrete steps to the front door, her heart racing. It was dangerous business, stepping outside her turf. Before she found Gaela her survival skills had been honed scalpel-sharp, though now that her plans were finally coming together she felt vulnerable—one witch in one world—and everything rested on this errand’s success. She stood before the metal security door, her throat dry, hands sweating.

This has to be it.

According to the chart, here lived a witch who could tell her all she wanted to know about the source inside ASSIST—the mole she needed to contact to set her plan in motion. Whoever was behind this door, she had to get them onboard. If she couldn’t, or worse, if it was a tracker, she had to get the hell away, fast.

She knocked.

‘What do you want?’ A woman’s voice, sharp, suspicious.

So far, so good.
‘I’m looking for directions. I was told you might help,’ Kreshkali called out above the rain.

After a pause, the bolt inside the door slid back and it opened as far as the chain-guard. She could see eyes checking her out from head to foot. The door clicked shut and was opened again, this time wide. A grizzled woman with twin lines etched between her brows stuck her head out into the gloom. Her steel-grey hair was pulled back into two thick plaits that hung over her shoulders to her breasts. Her face was broad, her cheekbones strong, her eyes dark, like a jaguar’s.

‘There are many directions to ask about,’ the woman said, her voice softer than before.

‘Which is your favourite?’

‘I’d have to say the north node.’

‘Me too.’

The older woman motioned Kreshkali in and led the way to a small kitchen. It had a single cupboard and bench, a small sink, and in the centre was a broad wooden table with mismatched chairs.

‘You live alone?’ Kreshkali asked, pulling out the seat next to the stove. It was warm from recent use.

‘More or less,’ the woman replied. ‘My name is Annadusa.’ She held out her hand, bangles and beads sliding down her arm.

‘I’m Kreshkali.’

Annadusa sat opposite her. ‘You a bit lost, are you? Need directions?’ She said the words offhandedly, flipping her thumb across the edge of a worn diary.

‘If you could, please.’ Kreshkali matched her casual tone.

‘First some tea to warm you up, and then I’ll send you on your way. You won’t get lost with this.’ She scribbled on a loose leaf and pushed it across the table. Kreshkali smiled softly. ‘I thought it might be that simple.’

The note said,
Can’t talk here. Take me to yours?

Kreshkali folded the note and tucked it in her pocket, turning her attention to the steaming cup in front of her. She took a whiff. ‘Coffee?’ she whispered.

Annadusa beamed. ‘I have connections.’

The aroma filtered up her nose as she drew in her breath, the vapour enveloping her face, making her eyes dance. She let out a soft sigh as she sipped it. If this was a tracker, at least she’d die happy. Coffee wasn’t a commodity on Gaela and she hadn’t the time to trade for it here on Earth. She’d forgotten how rich the taste was, how welcoming.

‘It’s not quite that simple, actually.’ Annadusa spoke in a merry tone again, like a youngsters’ storyteller.

‘It’s not?’

‘I think I’ll have to guide you.’

‘You will?’

They drained their cups and stood.

‘I’ll get my coat.’

Kreshkali took a deep breath as she waited for the other witch to return. She hadn’t had the benefit of the horary chart when she found Jaynan. She hoped this time, things wouldn’t go wrong.

J
arrod awoke, in the dark. The fire was mere coals, banked with warm stones. Nell was sleeping close to it, a short distance from Scylla and the Sword Master. Judging by the regular breathing, he guessed their dreams were sweet and the injuries mild. Thank the goddess for Nell’s herbs and magic. The feline wouldn’t be doing well without both.

He didn’t see Drayco until he went outside. The temple cat stood staring up the path that led to the summit, the early-morning light turning him golden. He was completely still except for his whiskers. They twitched with every breath.

‘Are you feeling better, Drayco?’ Jarrod asked.

The feline turned his head briefly before looking back up the track.

‘Will you let me see?’ Jarrod stretched out his hand, keeping it steady, determined to check the feline’s vital signs. Drayco lashed his tail and sat down in the snow, wrapping it tightly around his front paws.

‘I’m going to take that as a “yes”. Just give me a warning and I’ll back off. I only want to help.’

He knelt beside Drayco, lifting his hand slowly to the temple cat’s thickly furred neck. He stroked it, working
his way to the ear and giving it a good scratch. A soft vibration issued from Drayco’s throat. Confident that he had permission, Jarrod grasped the massive head in both hands and pushed the top eyelids back with his thumbs. He looked at the left eye, then the right, turning each towards the sunrise.

‘Pupils are equal and both react to light. I’m guessing the headache is gone and you’re fit to travel.’ He smiled at the deep orange eyes. ‘Shall we go to the summit and wait for Rosette? The Sword Master says she’ll be there.’

Drayco’s ears pricked at the sound of his partner’s name. When Jarrod stood he leapt to his feet, heading up the track.

‘Wait for me. I won’t be long,’ Jarrod called. ‘I’m going to check on the others and saddle up. It’ll be quicker if I ride.’

Drayco sat halfway up the track, his tail sweeping back and forth across the snow, piling it into drifts on either side.

Nell came out of the cave wrapped tightly in her fur coat. ‘Making friends?’

‘I think we have an agreement.’

‘How is he?’

‘Concussion’s gone.’ Jarrod nodded towards the cave. ‘What about them?’

‘Sleeping. Scylla’s fever’s down but still present. I’m going to get more agate and snow root if I can find any. She shouldn’t travel yet.’

‘Not surprised. But your herbs…’

‘Have helped,’ she interrupted.

‘I’m going up to meet Rosette. If she’s not at the summit…’

‘I know. I’ve fed and watered the horses, and saddled Wren, though she won’t be of use underground.’

‘Underground?’

‘The Lupins took Rosette to the witch Kreshkali. She’s got a den down in the bowels of Los Loma. If Rosette isn’t back by the time you reach the summit, Drayco will find a way in. Wren will get you as far as the entrance, but you won’t convince her to enter the darkness. She’d be blind there anyway. She’s a good mare, but she’s no grunnie.’

‘Maybe I can persuade her to wait for me. I don’t plan on taking too long.’

‘I love your optimism, Jarrod.’

‘And I love your daughter.’ He winked at her and went back inside the cave.

Nell frowned.
That could get tricky.

When he emerged with the copper-red mare, Drayco jumped to his feet.

‘Take these.’ Nell handed him dark lenses. ‘The snow will blind you without them, unless you have time to think yourself up some UV-screened optics.’

‘Thanks.’ Jarrod took a risk and roughed the temple cat’s neck with a gloved hand. ‘Ready to meet Rosette?’

Drayco launched up the path and Jarrod followed after him. As he started to climb, the sunlight warmed his face—the only skin exposed. Thank Zeeka, goddess of the mountain wind, that the morning was calm and clear. When he reached the summit, he could see forever in all directions—a magnificent panorama.

‘She should be here soon. Let’s give her some time.’

Drayco snapped his tail and continued across the summit, ignoring Jarrod’s halt.

‘Or, let’s keep going…’ He clucked to the mare, jogging after the temple cat. Winding down a path on the other side of the summit, Drayco stopped suddenly before a cliff face. Its rocks and outcroppings were thick with snow, but on close examination, Jarrod
realised the rock wall was a deception. It hid a narrow fissure—an entrance into the mountain.

‘Did she go this way?’

Drayco entered the crevice.

‘I guess she did, then. Wait for me.’ Jarrod dismounted and unbridled the mare, leaving the halter on her head. He loosened the girth slightly and tied the lead rope securely to the saddle. ‘I’m hoping you’ll wait for me, my beauty. If we haven’t returned by dusk, go back to the cave. There’re shrubs at the summit, to keep you occupied. Do you understand?’

The mare fluttered her nostrils and rubbed her face on his shoulder, leaving a flurry of copper-coloured hairs floating in the air. Jarrod removed a torch from his saddlebag, shouldered his backpack and followed Drayco inside.

A wall of pitch black hit him. He couldn’t see his hand in front of his face as he fumbled to light a match. When the torch was blazing, he held it high over his head, searching for the temple cat. Drayco was nowhere in sight.

‘It’s going to be really hard for me if you disappear. I’ll never find you in this black soup.’ He inched forward until he came to three rough archways. ‘Drayco, really. We have to communicate more effectively.’ He stared at the archways. ‘Where in this underworld are you?’

Drayco’s head appeared from the darkness of the central arch.
You’re right. We have to communicate better, and you have got to stop nattering and try to keep up.

Jarrod’s stomach turned somersaults. ‘Drayco? Is that you talking?’

The temple cat’s eyebrows lifted.
Who else would it be? Let’s go!

‘But, what are you…I mean, I can hear you…I thought only…’

Still I hear the nattering…

‘But how?’

I’ve known you always.

‘What?’

She dreams of you.

‘You can see her dreams?’

We see each other’s.

Jarrod shook his head. ‘How does that work?’

Jarrod, you’re a quantum sentient from another world, walking around in a Tulpa-body, chasing a young witch whose DNA holds the key-codes to your operating determinates. Why do you find this such a surprise?

‘You know all that?’

I do, now that I’m talking to you.

Jarrod did an internal scan and found every front end file accessed.

Let’s go, shall we, Jarrod? It’s this tunnel. I’ve got her scent, but I can’t hear her mind. She must be deep under the mountain, or deep asleep.

Jarrod didn’t speak for a moment. ‘So she dreams of me?’

Focus, Jarrod. This way.

He smiled for a moment, before following Drayco into the dark.

Rosette awoke with a start. Two Lupins had entered the chamber, made a quick bow and signalled for her to follow. She scrambled to her feet before grabbing her coat and shoving her arms into the sleeves. The haze that permeated the corridors had cleared and a bright, dazzling light prevailed. Was there a second sun in the heart of Gaela? She turned to the Lupin beside her, wanting to ask.

‘Mirrors,’ he answered her unspoken question. ‘The sun shines brightly on the surface this morning.’

‘Mirrors? Quite a few, I’d imagine.’

‘Thousands.’

He steadied her when she tripped over a rough stone.

‘Thanks,’ Rosette said as she clenched his arm. She released it quickly.

Her short but intense introduction to the race of Lupins left her in two minds. They were strangely appealing and also aggressive and wicked. She was certain Drayco did not like them. It was hard to sift the lore from the facts. Hotha was particularly alluring, and he’d stopped the others with a word, those three who had been so brutal and quick to anger. They had a powerful magic, though. She couldn’t help wonder about that. Could she learn it?