The Spell of Rosette (14 page)

The bard looked around, unsure of what to say next. Had he been dismissed? He cleared his throat. ‘My payment?’

‘It’s in a bag under your bunk.’

Clay nodded. ‘I’ll be off now.’

The Sword Master reached out to Clay’s arm, stopping the young man in his tracks. ‘We would like you to stay.’

Clay whispered before turning around, ‘Stay?’

They made eye contact for the first time. Clay couldn’t hold the exchange for long and An’ Lawrence went back to grooming the horse, methodically picking up each of Dozer’s dinner plate-sized hooves, checking them for stones. He grabbed a currycomb from a bucket of brushes and started to groom the dappled coat in small, vigorous circles.

‘Yes. Stay.’

Perhaps years of training, or battles and adventures that Clay couldn’t imagine, gave him such authority. Whatever it was, Clay knew he would obey the Sword Master. He couldn’t think how to say, ‘No thank you, I have other plans’.

‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Keep up the front of apprentice bard. Train for a while—for the winter at least.’ An’ Lawrence paused. ‘It means staying in a comfortable dorm with a warm bed and good company, eating well, playing music, and continuing your friendship with Rosette.’

‘My friendship?’

‘You like her, don’t you?’

‘I suppose.’

‘Then stay.’

‘What do I get for it?’

‘You get a sack of gold coins and a safe haven for the winter, not forgetting the food, drink, song and sweet company. What more does a bard seek?’

Clay watched a line of ants marching from the base of an old feed bucket to the middle slat of the gate. Something in the back of his mind told him to get out, and fast, but the Sword Master’s words were like a spell, lulling him into agreement. His other option—to make his way on foot back to the plains of Corsanon where he could sing for his keep in dingy pubs and brothels—had a lot less appeal.

‘All you have to do is build on your relationship with Rosette and report to me when I contact you.’

‘That’s it?’

‘Hopefully, you’ll work with the fourth-year students on composition. You’ve a knack for that, I’ve heard.’

Is there anything you haven’t heard?

It wouldn’t hurt to train with his peers, even though he was already a journeyman. He liked the idea of teaching, and there were tunes floating around the music halls that he’d never heard before. It would be great to expand his repertoire.

‘I don’t have to remind you of the consequences if you should reveal our agreement to the girl, or anyone else, do I?’ The Sword Master’s voice had a deep finality to it, jolting Clay from his musings.

‘No, you don’t.’ Clay looked out through the doorway, taking in the expanse framed like a picture on a wall. The breeze touched his face with the scent of apple pulp and freshly stacked hay. He rubbed his cheek on his shoulder and turned back to An’ Lawrence. ‘When do I start?’

The Sword Master gave a half smile as he unbridled Dozer and flipped open his stall door. The horse nickered, heading straight for the manger filled with oats and alfalfa hay.

‘Right now. Find Rosette and make sure you accompany her back for her things. I want to know if she suspects this pack has been searched.’

‘She wouldn’t, would she?’

‘You don’t know her very well yet, do you?’

‘Do you?’

The Sword Master didn’t answer right away. ‘She’s an initiate of Nellion Paree. Best not underestimate her.’ He started going through the contents of Rosette’s pack. It seemed he was looking for something very specific as he set out each item, one by one. He glanced at Clay. ‘You’d better hurry. I want you to get as close to her as you can. Do you understand?’

Clay hesitated for an imperceptible moment then lifted his head. ‘Sure thing.’ He winked at the Sword Master then dashed out of the barn.

‘Coming through,’ a woman in a dark blue robe called out. She nearly bumped into Rosette as she shouldered past. ‘Oh, geebeeza! What in the underworld is that?’ She didn’t wait for an answer but swerved, giving Drayco a wide berth before breaking into a run.

Rosette felt herself being sucked into a stream of people, all intent on one destination. After years of living with Nell and only the occasional visitor to fill the small cottage with a foreign voice, Rosette felt overwhelmed. As the intensity of Treeon swirled around her, she faltered.

Maudi? What’s wrong?
The temple cat seemed unperturbed by the energy of the place.

‘I can’t breathe.’

More robed figures veered past like a river around rocks. Rosette wavered in the middle of the thoroughfare, Drayco at her side. She could hear the gasps and exclamations of those startled by the temple cat and it made her feel even more out of place. Her chest was tight. She couldn’t take a proper breath. Moving out of the traffic, she stopped in front of the plaza’s southern statue.

‘I really can’t breathe,’ she gasped.

Sit. Head down. Look away from the crowd.

Rosette slid to the foot of the statue. It was a huge winged deity, recognisable now. Looking skyward, she identified the head of a falcon, the body of a lion, the wings of a sea eagle and the tail of a snake. It bore many names, most she couldn’t pronounce. Nell called it
Werefey,
the goddess of transformation who presided over birth and death. Fitting. Rosette felt like she was about to die.

Take a deep breath.

Rosette closed her eyes and drew in as much air as she could, then spilled it out in front of her.

And another. Keep going.

After a few more inhalations, her dizziness settled. She rested her eyes on Drayco, mindful of her breathing, slow and steady, in and out, in and out. When she started to relax, she looked again at Were-fey.

The statue fascinated her. It was carved from a sea-green stone, smooth as glass and cool to the touch. The sculptor portrayed the beast in a contemplative pose, perched on an outcropping of boulders, serpent tail wrapped tight around a lower rock, partly submerged by a placid lake. The raptor eyes, for a moment, seemed to query Rosette, as if it had come to life. When she blinked, the statue looked blank, only a carved rock after all.

Feel better?

‘A bit.’

Too many people?

Rosette sighed. ‘Maybe we should wait for Clay.’

You have to get used to them at some point.
Drayco sat, resting his head in her lap.
We are meant to be here for a fair while.

Rosette’s nose twitched when she heard her own reasoning coming back at her. She smiled. To think she’d been worried about how Drayco would cope. She stood up, letting out a little laugh.

That sounds better.

‘It feels better, Dray.’

The traffic in the courtyard had thinned with only a few stragglers darting through, robes flying out behind pumping legs. She put her hand to her forehead and scanned the avenue leading to the oval, shading her eyes from the noonday sun.

‘We’re going to miss the start.’

If we don’t go now, we’ll miss the finish.

Rosette kept gazing up ahead until Drayco nipped her hand.

Someone’s coming.

Where?

Behind.

Her spine stiffened.

‘Are you lost?’

Rosette spun around and looked into the face of a tall, solid-built man in a black robe. His expression was sunny, his manner purposeful. He had a strong jaw, a shaved head, smooth skin and when he smiled, his eyes crinkled with delight.

‘Pardon me?’ she said.

‘It looks to me like you and your companion are lost,’ he said again, this time directing his words to Drayco as well.

‘We’re just getting our bearings.’

He watched her with an intensity that gave her goose bumps. His eyes were green, flecked with gold and brown and shaped like a cat’s.

‘I know a short cut,’ he said. ‘Come on.’

‘What?’ Rosette creased her forehead.

‘A “short cut”,’ he enunciated slowly. ‘It’s a way of getting somewhere faster, more direct.’

‘I’m familiar with the term,’ she said, suppressing a giggle.

‘I can get you right up close to the demonstrations, if you want…and you
will
want. They aren’t to be missed.’

Shall we?
Drayco nudged her hand.
He’s harmless.

Harmless? He looks to me like he could mow down an army blindfolded.

Drayco sneezed.
You’re right. Let me correct myself. He looks like he means us no harm.

She hesitated. Shyness washed over her, making her wish she were back at Nell’s cottage. She imagined herself sitting in front of the hearth, listening to her mentor read from
The Stellar Opus
while she combed grass seeds from Drayco’s fur.

‘Thanks, but I should probably find my own way.’

‘Should? Mine’s quicker.’ He winked. ‘Come on,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘You won’t regret it.’

She hung back.

He smiled at her anew. ‘Ah. I have no manners.’ He slapped his hand to his forehead. ‘Let me introduce myself.’ He turned his back on her for a second then spun around as if seeing her for the first time. ‘I’m Rowan.’ He lifted his right hand, palm upward, in a gesture of open greeting.

Rosette responded automatically in the same way, their palms touching. She took his hand and felt the fire of his grip. Energy jolted up her arm, like a zap of lightning. She blocked it before it reached her elbow.

‘I’m Rosette,’ she said, surprised by the tingling sensation. She looked deeper into his eyes. She felt a strength of purpose beneath his jovial manner. He’d been in plenty of battles, she could tell. She suspected there was more to his name than just plain ‘Rowan’.

‘You two are from the Dumarkian Woods, I’ll wager.’ He fixed his eyes on the cat as he spoke.

‘This is my familiar, Drayco.’

‘Honoured,’ he said, bowing his head slightly to both. ‘Can I show you the way now? Come or not, I’ve got to run. I can’t miss this.’

Nor can we. Come on, Maudi. It’s all good.

‘Thank you, Rowan. Lead the way, please.’

As he turned, she saw a stunning tattoo at the back of his neck—two wings, extended in flight, a grey wash of feathers, black with red tips. It stood out brilliantly against his bronzed skin. She couldn’t pull her eyes away.

‘Apprentice?’ he asked without slowing down. He dodged down a series of side walkways, glancing to see if she and Drayco followed.

‘Initiate,’ she answered. ‘We’ve just arrived.’

‘No kidding,’ he said, turning his head again to smile.

‘Huh?’

‘A woman like you, I would remember.’

She laughed, relaxing her shoulders as she rushed along. Her breath came easily now. It felt good to run, especially without her pack. ‘And why’s that?’

‘Because,’ he said, keeping his eye forward, ‘you’re beautiful…in a raven-like way.’

‘Raven?’ She sputtered out another laugh. ‘How so?’

‘The black hair, of course, and the nose.’

‘The nose?’

‘Raven for sure. Very distinct.’

Rosette reached up and felt her nose as if considering its shape for the first time. She shook her head, following him along the twisting pathways, wondering who he really was. His plain robe and the name he gave her offered no clue as to rank, and his manner didn’t help either. It was too contradictory. The commanding grace said one thing, his jesting speech and boyish mannerisms said another.

Trickster, do you think, Dray?

Maybe…

When she spotted the hilt of his sword as his robe wafted back, she sucked in her breath. It was ancient and elaborately designed, clearly not owned by a lowranking journeyman.

‘Do you train with the Sword Master?’ she asked in a rush.

‘You could say that.’ He lengthened his stride to a full run.

She worked hard to keep up, Drayco loping at her side.

He ducked down a narrow side path hedged by late-blooming camellias. The red and pink blossoms against the shiny green leaves filled her vision with a thrill of colour. She sped up, matching his pace stride for stride.

‘That’s why I’m here,’ she said between breaths.

‘Pardon?’

‘The Sword Master. I’m here to train with him.’

‘Does he know?’

‘Not yet.’

‘You’re ambitious.’

‘So they tell me.’

He touched her hand, tilting his head to the left.

‘This way,’ he said, leaping forward to ascend a long flight of stairs.

How they would get to the training grounds ahead of the crowd, even at this pace, she had no idea. From what she remembered of her elevated view of Treeon, the demonstration grounds were straight uphill, and a fair way off. Still she climbed, forcing her legs with no thought of slowing down. They turned a bend, dashed up a second set of narrow stairs and then came to a sudden stop.

‘Whoa,’ Rosette gasped, putting her hand down to her side to stop Drayco’s momentum. Her eyes widened.

They stood side by side, chests rising and falling in rhythm, looking at the horse in front of them. Obsidian black, with a mane that hung in braids down to his knees, the animal turned his head towards them and
trumpeted, blasting a throaty challenge. When they didn’t respond immediately, he pawed the cobblestones with alternating forelegs, setting sparks flying with each strike of his iron-shod hooves.

Rowan motioned for them to wait. ‘Don’t be cross,’ he said, stepping up to take the lead rope from around the massive neck. Bringing the horse forward a few steps, he came to a halt right in front of Rosette and Drayco.

‘This is Diablai,’ Rowan announced as the horse fluttered his nostrils at Drayco and let out soft whickers. The fur around the top of the temple cat’s head parted in the gusts of air. ‘I think he will consent to carry us both bareback.’

He’s been to Dumarka.
Drayco seemed surprised.
He knows my kind.

He’s been to Dumarka? Are you sure?

I am sure.

‘You’re talking to him?’ Rosette said. ‘He understands you?’