Strange Attractors (27 page)

He returned to the parade ground, both he and the mare perfectly groomed. He stood for inspection, waiting for orders, trying not to smile. Would this be a practice run or did they have an actual task for him? His head lifted when he saw the Stable Master himself arrive and hand Willem a satchel.

A proper errand then, Gracie!

‘Are you well enough, Xane, to deliver a message?’

‘Of course, sir. I am, sir.’ He felt a tingling up his spine as Willem handed him the satchel.

‘Put that in your saddlebag and show it to no one but the High Priestess of Temple Corsanon. You must deliver it to her directly. Is that clear?’

‘Perfectly. Yes, sir.’ He took the message, recognising the seal. It came from the citadel and bore the stamp of the High Regent. He tucked it into a saddlebag and mounted up.

‘Take the north road, and let her run. Just make sure she comes back in good condition. Gauge her pulse after the first climb and water her at the temple. I’ll be checking her myself when you return,’ the Stable Master said.

‘And I’ll be timing you,’ Willem added.

‘It sounds like a test, sir.’

‘It is.’

Xane held back the smile that threatened to burst. This was one test he knew he would pass.

‘Give her a turn around the track, at the hand gallop, and then on your way,’ Willem said, waving him towards the starting line of the large oval parade ground.

Xane jogged her to the mark and checked his girth before mounting. He waited for the signal, keeping his hands soft on the reins, the mare as poised and alert as he. When the Stable Master’s hand dropped he let her fly, but not a dead run. She wasn’t warmed up enough for that and he knew they were watching for his judgement, not the horse’s speed. They already knew her capabilities; it was his that were under assessment. He kept her in a collected canter until the second turn, taking the corners smoothly and allowing her the slightest increase of speed down the last straight. When they came to the north gate, he slowed her down, approaching the five-foot fence at a collected canter. Grace cleared the barrier gate with ample room to spare. She landed lightly on the far side and they were off.

Perfect, Gracie! Thank you.
He knew his exit had been well received by the cheers from the other grooms.
We’re already getting high marks and that was the trickiest part of the journey!
He could see it all going well. He would deliver the message before the noon meal and be back on the parade ground by
afternoon tea. Just like that. He clicked his tongue, easing the mare down to a brisk trot and headed up the hill to Temple Corsanon.

They trotted over the last wooden bridge, Xane guiding the mare down the winding road to the valley. The temple gates were not far off. The mare was in excellent form this morning, a joy to ride. The sun was shining and he hummed as they covered the ground, the horse’s iron-shod hooves clicking out a cadent beat. When the temple was in full sight, he eased the mare to a halt, dismounting by the side of the road. He ran up his stirrups and loosened the girth a notch, leading her the rest of the way to the temple grounds. He planned to bring her back on time and in perfect condition, the note delivered, job done. He would pass this test and move on to the next stage of his apprenticeship. He felt it in his bones.

He walked down the middle of the road until the sound of wagon wheels brought his head up. He moved the mare to the grass, making room for the oncoming traffic. It was a coach from the temple, drawn by a dappled grey team, purple plumes on their headstalls, tacked in black leather traces with shiny brass buckles. As it approached, he felt his breath catch. The mare picked up on his excitement, prancing on the spot. ‘Easy, girl,’ he said, his hand on her neck. ‘It’s all right.’
Why am I shaking?
He didn’t breathe as the coach passed.

Leaning out the window, face to the breeze, was a magnificent black temple cat. He’d never seen one before, not this close up nor even in a book, but he knew what it was—a temple cat from the Dumarkian Woods. A witch’s familiar. His stomach did a somersault and the creature’s orange eyes penetrated
his own. The coach rolled past and he glimpsed two others seated beside the feline—a young man and a beautiful pregnant woman.

Xane’s heart galloped. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. His pulse raced and he felt like part of him was trying to crawl out of his skin. The mare—usually placid—reared, whinnying. By the time he had her under control the coach was gone, winding its way out of the valley, over the wooden bridge and on to Corsanon.

‘Amazing creature, that temple cat,’ he said aloud. ‘Harmless to us, though.’ He patted the mare’s neck and led her down the road, heading for the temple gates, but he turned around, again and again, to watch the coach’s progress until it disappeared over the hill.

The guard made him wait while he checked the seal on the satchel. That was expected. They were all more cautious since the battle in the Corsanon Fields and the uncanny fires. He’d heard what had happened. They talked of nothing else in the stables. Some witch on a golden warhorse had blasted the troops and when captured he and a temple High Priestess in the form of a Lemur raven had broken free, setting Corsanon on fire. Hundreds of warriors had died and the fires had spread through the city until the Corsanon priestesses had conjured the rain to put them out. But meanwhile the enemy had enchanted the death dogs and let the war witch escape, both flying away to their stronghold in the Isle of Lemur. They had to be Timbali witches with unfathomable powers. At least, that’s what the gossip said.

‘You can water the horse.’ The guard’s voice snapped him to attention. The man pointed to a shaded well. ‘And deliver the message yourself, as asked.’

Xane nodded. ‘Thank you. I won’t be long.’

He tied the mare to the hitching post and dropped the bucket into the well. It didn’t fall far before it splashed, a shimmer of light glinting before it sank. He cranked the handle and brought it up; the smell was earthy and fresh. He let the mare drink before he filled his waterskin. She was well cooled off and the water tepid—safe to let her have as much as she liked. He loosened her girth another notch and gave her a pat. ‘Rest easy. I’ll be right back.’

Again he looked over his shoulder at the road winding out of the valley. A sudden desire to catch up to the coach came over him. He wanted another look at that temple cat, and the beautiful witch.
Maybe I’ll see them when I return.
Nodding to the guard, he tapped the satchel on the side of his thigh and strode into the temple grounds.

An apprentice in a long blue robe pointed him to the High Priestess’s chambers. ‘Down the breezeway and to the right. The double doors will be open. If they aren’t, you wait. I’ve sent word you’re coming.’

Xane thanked her and walked away, his boots clicking on the wooden boards. He knew what kind of word she’d sent. It was a mind-to-mind message, like he could sometimes feel with Shaea. He frowned as the memory blurred. For a moment he imagined sending a mind-to-mind message to the witch with the temple cat. What would he say?
Hello, beautiful witch…Where did you come from? My dreams?

His thought was interrupted as he neared the double doors. They were closed but strangely he could hear people conversing on the other side as if they were right next to him. Two women talked in hushed tones, though it sounded loud enough for the entire temple to follow. It didn’t make sense. If they wanted to be covert, why were they shouting?

‘The temple cat was Dumarkian and that makes her a Dumarkian witch.’

‘She didn’t deny it.’

‘She didn’t give her true reason for being here either.’

‘The pregnancy was no glamour.’

Xane realised they were talking about the witch in the carriage!

‘Are you certain?’

‘If it was, I want to learn how she did it. I felt the baby move myself.’

‘The Stable Master’s boy is here with a message. Maybe that’ll offer a clue.’

‘And we can send this one back.’

‘You hardly need the written word to speak to the insider.’

‘Of course, but this isn’t for the Stable Master.’

‘It’s meant to be intercepted?’

‘I’d say its chances are very good, wouldn’t you?’

Xane scratched his head. The conversation didn’t make any sense. The fact that he could hear them through the solid oak door while they whispered was even more startling. He picked at his neck. Could hemlock poison be doing this? Was it a hallucination? They’d talked about the Stable Master as if he were more important to the temple than Xane ever imagined. It almost sounded as if he was their spy. As he pondered these ideas the doors opened and he was ushered in. His audience with the High Priestess lasted only a matter of moments.

‘Take this back with you. It’s for the Stable Master, or the first authority who asks. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Mistress.’ He understood perfectly. With a nod he backed out of the chambers, wondering what intrigue the temple was plotting. He felt like it was
already something he knew about, and something he needed to remember, fast. He shook his head. That was nonsense. What could such witches’ business have to do with him?

‘
W
here do you
think
she went, Sword Master?’ Kreshkali spat the words as she poured boiling water into a pot.

‘I’m not sure, but whenever you say my name like that I know I’m supposed to have the answer.’

Kreshkali sprinkled dried herbs over the steaming liquid and stirred. ‘Back to Corsanon, of course.’

‘She’s looking for Jarrod?’ An’ Lawrence shifted in his seat, bracing his wounded leg with both hands. ‘You can’t blame her, Kali. We gave up the search before it began.’

‘I was under some constraints. Besides, she and Drayco would have heard him if he was anywhere near. I would have heard him, for that matter. We didn’t. He’s gone.’

‘You would have heard if he had been conscious.’ An’ Lawrence winced as he straightened his knee. ‘What if he was knocked out?’

‘After that fall? It’s a flesh-and-blood tulpa he lives in, not a tortoiseshell. His body was dead.’

‘If you had told me Makee had a knife to your throat I would have dropped her in a second. I would have found out her game and…’

‘Are you so sure? As I recall you were having trouble holding your head up at the time.’

‘We’d just come down the quarry road. I was catching my breath.’

‘And I was making the choice that seemed most creative.’

‘You could have warned me at least. I wouldn’t have let her slip away.’

‘Who? Rosette or Makee?’

‘Either.’ He groaned. ‘Both.’

‘So you say.’ She tapped the spoon on the rim of the pot. ‘Get ready,’ she said. ‘This is hot, and it bites.’

‘Are you trying to kill me!’ he hollered as she applied the poultice. ‘What’s in that, woman!’

Scylla leapt to her feet, hackles up.

‘It’s medicine,’ she said to Scylla. ‘Good stuff.’ She turned to her patient. ‘Hold still, Rowan, I’m not done with you yet.’ Scylla had a sniff of the wound as Kreshkali packed it with hypericum pulp and bay leaves steeped in pure onion juice. ‘See? It’s helping already.’ She blew on her finger, shaking it when a drop of the juice seeped into a tiny cut. ‘That does smart.’

An’ Lawrence’s face was red, tears streaming down his cheeks, but he didn’t say another word or move again until she finished splinting the leg, binding it tight with broad flat sticks. He got up, testing the cure.

‘How am I supposed to train in this?’ he said, struggling to stay upright. ‘I can’t even bend my knee.’ He limped around the room, like a man with a wooden
leg, his frown deepening with every stride. ‘This is unmanageable. I can’t fight like this.’

‘That’s the whole point. You’re not meant to.’

‘Ridiculous! Kali, you realise this is a crucial time. I need to be ready for anything and so do my students.’

‘Most of all I’d say you need to be alive, so let’s get you past the septicaemia stage before you strap on your sword again. A day or two? That’s all. You have to rest. This is not negotiable.’

‘You could heal me in an instant, Kreshkali.’

‘Perhaps, if I had the time. But I think I like it better this way.’

‘With me crippled?’

She chuckled. ‘I wouldn’t call you that. You can heal yourself now while we work out what to do here.’

‘Evacuate?’

‘I don’t want it to come to that.’ Her smile fell. ‘We need Jarrod and we need him now.’

‘The backup CPU?’

‘There has to be more information about it here. Richter’s original notes, her journals. We need to search the library.’

‘I’ll help.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘That’s it, isn’t it? You wanted me in the library, not the training ground! That’s why you’ve strapped me up like a solstice parcel?’

‘Your Virgo mind is exceptional at nutting out complex systems.’

He snickered, mumbling something she thought best not to catch.

‘Come on. Lend me your skills. Please? Your knack for the fine details is going to lead us to those notes today. I feel it.’

‘Maybe. But when we do, it’s Rosette we need to find. She’s the one carrying the spell.’

‘Don’t worry. I’m tracking her already.’

‘Teg?’

‘He doesn’t know it, but yes.’

‘So you
let
them go, with blessings?’

‘I did.’

‘Because?’

‘If Jarrod really is out there, she’s the one who can find him.’

‘And that is preferable to activating the spell?’

‘As far as I know, much preferable.’

‘And what about the baby?’ An’ Lawrence sat and propped his leg up. ‘I thought you didn’t want her hopping through the portals.’

‘Seems all right—a lesser of two evils at this point.’

‘Let’s hope it stays that way.’

Rosette smiled as Drayco jumped into the coach. He leapt across the bench seat and stuck his head out the window, sniffing in the air.