by Kim Falconer
Nell restrained a smile. ‘Rosette said you were short.’ She tilted her head to take in his full height.
‘I grew.’
‘So you did!’ She clasped his hands affectionately. ‘What took you so long?’
‘Long?’
‘Six years is quite a long time to be away, don’t you think? It’s only six days by clipper from Lividica. What did you do with the other two thousand?’
‘I was…I thought…’ He stumbled over his words.
Nell laughed, long and deep. ‘Get in here, lad.’
He slid his pack from his shoulders as he stepped through the doorway. ‘Where’s Rosette? Is she…Whoa! What’s that?’
Jarrod stepped back as Mosaic uncoiled to hang right in front of his face, scenting him with his flickering red tongue.
‘It’s all right, Mozzie. He’s a friend of Rosette’s.’
Jarrod backed up, bumping into the door behind him.
‘That’s Mozzie,’ Nell answered him as she rummaged through her pantry, bringing out food and clean cups. ‘Come in! He won’t bite you, now that you’ve been introduced. Take off your boots and hang up your coat.’ She laughed at the expression on his face. ‘I was about to eat. You hungry?’
Jarrod swallowed as he inched around the python. ‘Thanks. I’m starved.’ He unlaced his boots and put them by the door, taking in the row of footwear and stack of swords and bows. ‘Rosette isn’t here, is she?’
‘She’s been training at Treeon Temple for almost a year.’
He crossed the room, pulled out a chair, and sat near the fire, warming his hands. Nell cleared her books and charts away and set out a plate of bread, butter and soft cheese.
‘Start on that.’ She pointed to the food.
‘Thanks, Nell,’ he said, reaching for a thick slice of bread. ‘I didn’t come sooner because I’d promised I wouldn’t. We’d agreed it’d be too risky.’
‘She told me.’
‘She did?’ Jarrod smiled.
Nell swung the cast-iron pot over the coals and prodded them with an iron rod. ‘Tell me, Jarrod, why’d you risk it now?’
He swallowed before answering, sipping the cup of mulled wine she offered. ‘Because until last week, the deception was working. The entire Matosh family was believed dead, the youngest daughter included. I wanted to write to Rosette, to let her know it was safe, to see if I could visit, but I kept my promise. I protected her with silence, just in case someone was still watching. Then, last week, a bard came to the bay—I never discovered where he was from. He played at the pubs and asked a lot of questions.’
‘What kinds of questions?’
‘He was looking for the de Santo family, particularly the parents of a woman in her early twenties named Rosette, who’d grown up on an estate near Lividica. He let it be known that he was courting her and wanted to meet the family, to surprise them. Of course, no-one knew of her and said so. But people started talking about it and the Matosh murders came up. I don’t know what he was told. The bard disappeared before I could confront him.’
‘And did you learn the name of this bard?’
Jarrod shook his head. ‘No, but he was young, had shocking red hair and was a remarkable guitarist—clearly temple-trained.’
‘Sounds to me like Rosette has herself a beau. I wonder how much she told him?’
‘Too much, I think,’ Jarrod scowled.
‘Jealous?’
‘Hardly!’ Jarrod took another sip of wine. ‘I’m concerned, is all. It doesn’t add up.’
‘Why not? Rosette would naturally attract—’
‘Not that.’ He tapped his fingers on his lips. ‘Of course she would attract anyone she wanted.’
‘So…’
‘The bard had a very interesting companion.’
‘Companion?’
‘A familiar, perhaps, but I don’t think it was his.’
‘What was it?’
‘A raptor. I saw him give it a message.’
Nell frowned. ‘Did you see where it went?’
‘North. It disappeared into the clouds above Mount Jacor.’
‘A falcon?’
‘Peregrine.’
Nell poured more wine. ‘Either our Rosette indeed has herself a suitor, or things haven’t blown over after all.’
Jarrod shot her a glance. ‘I was hoping you might elucidate on the “things” aspect. Just what is it, Nell, that hasn’t blown over yet? Is Rosette in danger?’
She looked him up and down, thinking that perhaps this could be a past her future might change. ‘It wasn’t John’ra Matosh they were after when the Corsanon assassins murdered him and his family.’
‘It wasn’t?’
‘No.’
‘Who, then?’
‘They were after Rosette.’
Jarrod stopped chewing. ‘What for?’
‘There are beings on this world, and others, hunting for…something.’
Jarrod put down his fork and wiped his mouth. ‘What are you talking about, Nell?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘She’s just a young Gaelean witch. What things could she have that someone on this world, or any other, would kill for?’
‘She has a spell.’
‘What kind of a spell?’
Nell closed her eyes. ‘The hidden kind. Many are searching for it, would give, or take, anything to find it.’
‘Anyone in particular?’
‘The High Priestess of Treeon, for one.’
‘Does Rosette know she’s got it?’
‘No.’
‘What? She thinks it’s some travelling charm? And you let her go to Treeon with it?’
‘Sometimes the safest place is right under the adversary’s nose.’
‘But if they know she’s a Matosh…if they link her to the murders…’
‘They may have suspicions I hadn’t counted on. Makee will stop at nothing to get the spell back.’
‘Back?’
‘She had a glimpse of it once. It left quite an impression.’
‘Why? What does it do?’
‘It’s a power spell. Great power. If Makee should ever get hold of it she’d doubtless try to reclaim the temples to the east and extend the influence of Treeon across the whole of Gaela.’
‘That would mean war again!’
‘That’s not the half of it.’
‘What else?’
Nell hesitated. Could she reveal it? She knew that Rosette had trusted Jarrod utterly. If he was to help her now, he needed to be at least semi-informed.
‘The spell contains knowledge from another world. It can protect the portals that lead to other dimensions—other realms—to keep them intact, unpolluted. It holds the secret to the many-worlds’ survival. Oh, Jarrod, there is so much to it that you would never grasp. Even I’m still learning what it can do. It’s the key to this universe. Do you have any idea what that could mean in the wrong hands? In any hands?’
He pressed his fingers together. ‘Yes, Nell. I do.’
Jarrod sat in profound silence as Nell stared at him, her eyes like a hawk.
‘What do you mean, you do?’ she asked. ‘How could you comprehend what I just said?’
‘Because I know Passillo better than anyone alive,’ he whispered back.
Nell pulled the chair out from across the table and sat, her hands shaking. She took a deep breath. ‘I’m listening.’
‘I have a few questions first. What name do you go by?’
‘My name?’
‘With the Matosh family gone, I had a demon’s time tracking you down. Rosette told me you were Nell, the Dumarkian witch, but no-one could tell me more. I’d like to hear the whole thing, if it’s not a secret.’
‘It’s no secret to those who ask. I’m Nellion Paree of the Dumarkian Woods.’
‘Paree.’ He said the name like a prayer. ‘Can you tell me where you come from, Nellion Paree?’
‘Originally?’
He nodded.
‘A small fishing village south o
f Morzone.’
‘Morzone? Really? Isn’t it more like a small fishing village south of San Francisco? Of course, they can’t fish there any more, can they? Not in those dead seas.’
Nell froze with her wine mug halfway to her lips. When she spoke, her voice was barely audible: ‘Where did you hear that?’
‘I get around.’ He lifted his head. ‘One more question, Nell. Do you know your matrilineal ancestry?’
She stared at him, mouth open.
‘Who’s the first remembered in your line of priestesses?’
‘We go way back…’ Her voice trailed off.
‘Tell me her name, please. It’s important.’
‘We call her Docturi Janicia, but it’s really…’
‘Janis Richter.’
Nell dropped her mug, tipping her chair over as she leapt to her feet. Mozzie wove his way across the rafters, lowering his head to hover just above her eyes. She had never heard that name spoken, but had found it with the things her mother had left her. It pulled her mind back to the late-night talks between herself, her mother and her grandmother in the secret places of her childhood training, and she faltered. She gripped the edge of the table. ‘Who are you?’
‘Can’t you guess?’
‘The JARROD?’ she whispered, not knowing if her legs would support her.
‘I always liked the name,’ he said, lifting his face with a smile.
‘Jarrod?’ she whispered again.
‘Still in the flesh.’ He opened his arms. ‘A newer Tulpa, several actually, since I saw Janis last, but me just the same.’
‘Oh, Jarrod.’ Nell walked towards him, the cottage so quiet she could hear the floorboards creaking underfoot. She stood in front of him, tilting her head up before she fell into his arms.
‘Tell me, Nell, is Earth hanging in there?’
She gave him a strong squeeze. ‘By a thread.’ She released him. ‘Where have you been? You’re the one missing piece I didn’t know how to find. Why didn’t you answer me? I’ve been calling for you from ridge to mountain top, Corsanon to Morzone, for the last twenty years.’
Jarrod took her hands. ‘It’s your first-class glamour, Nell. I couldn’t spot the blood of the Techno-Witch, even this close up. I thought it was Kreshkali who carried it. I’ve been tracking her for at least that long, but damned if I could catch the woman.’
Nell chuckled. ‘She is tricky, isn’t she?’
‘But, Nell, why does Rosette have Passillo? I thought it was to lie dormant until…’ His face beamed. ‘Is the worm deleted? Are we ready to go back?’
‘No, not yet. I’m still working on that. Jarrod, Rosette doesn’t just have Passillo, a charm around her neck.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m not the last of my line.’
‘What?’ He stared at her, holding her at arm’s length. ‘You have a child? A daughter?’ He let go his grip. ‘Where is she? Earth? Is she safe?’
Nell winked. ‘Oh, she’s not lost, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just hidden.’
‘Where?’
‘Can’t you guess that yet?’
He looked into her eyes. ‘Goddess of the night…right under my nose too?’ he whispered.
Nell nodded. ‘Though that connection was a fluke. Didn’t see it coming at all.’
‘Rosette?’ His voice choked.
‘She’s all mine.’
Jarrod lowered his head and moaned. ‘That would explain the attraction…’ He let out his breath and wiped his eyes. ‘How’d she end up with the Matosh clan? Is John’ra her father or…’
‘No!’ Nell stopped him short. ‘No, no,’ she said again, softer, looking at the fire. ‘Rosette’s not a Matosh.’
‘Who’s her father then?’
‘A man from the ancient line.’
‘Ah,’ he smiled. ‘Rosette was born in Gaela?’ He looked around the cottage as if the answer were somehow there. ‘Things haven’t exactly gone to plan then, have they?’
‘Not exactly. I disturbed Passillo inadvertently. The rivers had changed to a gorge. I couldn’t put them back. But I had exactly what was needed to hide Passillo when I conceived. I came here for the sanctuary of Dumarka, had my child and hid the spell.’ She sighed. ‘Then I hid her.’
‘But Rosette doesn’t have Passillo. She took almost nothing with her that night. I know. I was there.’
‘Almost nothing.’
‘Are you saying she has the spell?’
Nell winked again.
‘How?’
‘It’s in her, Jarrod. It was the only way.’
‘But that means if you can’t find a way to delete the worm…’
‘I know. She can’t set foot on Earth now, nor can you, not while the worm exists. I’m the last of my line there, the last hope.’
Jarrod buried his face in his hands. ‘Does she know?’
Nell moved her head from side to side. ‘Not yet.’
‘But, Nell, it could get out of control. She has no guidance!’
‘I wouldn’t say none.’
Jarrod slumped in his chair. ‘I can’t believe you sent her to Treeon.’
Nell smiled. ‘I had my reasons…’
In another world, Kreshkali awoke from a troubled dream. She looked at her chronometer: 11:11 a.m. The opaque window, and the sheeting acid rain, made it difficult to distinguish day from night.
She kicked back the covers and stretched. ‘Well now, isn’t this interesting.’ She smiled. ‘Jarrod Cossica, I’ve got plans for you!’
CHAPTER 10
An’ Lawrence stood in the centre of the dusty arena, heart pounding, his sides heaving. The autumn sunlight warmed the back of his neck as sweat dripped down his face. He hadn’t trained like this for years—not since he was a journeyman in the elite ranks of the Timbali high-guard. Because of his background he had already been initiated and trained at the Timbali Temple, and who would have guessed that those simple things—magic, acknowledgement from a higher-ranking officer, a meeting with a witch—would have led to such machinations?
He took a deep breath. Rosette was turning out to be as brilliant with her use of magic as her mentor. It was potent, and he never felt it coming. No-one here could have easily taught her such skill. It was either innate or learned from long hours of training. He shook his head. What bothered him was that Nellion Paree didn’t use her magic quite this way—at least, she hadn’t twenty years ago. Rosette’s style was unique, and it made him uncomfortable.
He took another deep, focused breath to slow his respiration and steel his thoughts. The sun was dropping far to the west and the shadows from surrounding sycamores cast long, cold fingers through the arena. An’ Lawrence mopped his forehead and raised his sword. This would be their last round.
‘Again,’ he commanded, his voice challenging his opponent.
Rosette dived towards him, feigning a swipe to his shoulders before tucking down low and cutting for his knees. He blocked the move—only just—propelling her backwards with the momentum of his blow. An’ Lawrence smiled through gritted teeth. She improved with every hour of training. What a delight to work with such aptitude, a delight and a mystery.
‘Good, but next time see if you can actually strike a blow!’ he said, his mouth quirking.
She leapt to her feet and he gauged her stance. She shielded her mind and body so well it was impossible to predict her moves. Her agility astonished him. The combination of flexibility and strength proved an effective weapon in itself. Mixed with enchantment, it became invincible—almost.
‘Quickly,’ he commanded when she stood for several heartbeats. ‘Don’t give your adversary any time to recover.’
Her body glistened with sweat and her chest rose and fell in controlled breaths. A snarl lifted the left side of her mouth. ‘Quickly, is it?’ she countered, still not moving.
Rosette was as obstinate as she was skilled. The Sword Master suppressed a laugh. More shades of Nell. He felt the familiar rush of en
ergy course down his spine as he observed her. She couldn’t know how much she reminded him of her mentor. An’ Lawrence strengthened his mind-shield as he speculated. What was Nellion like now? Had she told Rosette of their past? Doubtful. Nell had made it clear that he was someone she never wanted to speak of or to again.
The instant his mind drifted, she was on him, inches from his face, her sword pressed against his chest, the move toppling them both. He rolled as he hit the ground, intent on pinning her down.
Rosette de Santo seemed to have other ideas.
As the Sword Master sprang back towards her, he felt her knee thrust up between them, driving into his abdomen and throwing him back into the ring netting. He paused against the ropes, judging as his student vaulted to her feet. She must have been exhausted, but she showed no sign of fatigue. Crouching like a wildcat, she barely moved to fill her lungs.
An’ Lawrence leapt forward, his eyes on hers. He was aware of the sun setting behind him, the blood-red rays slanting across the ground between the lines of shadows—spears of light in his peripheral vision. The breeze whispered past his face, bringing the scent of horse sweat, alfalfa hay and leather. The students lining the ring diffused into silhouette and a distant bell rang three times. Dinner. Still he kept his eyes locked with hers until their breathing synchronised.
‘Done, Rosette. Well done,’ he said, allowing a smile. ‘Bathe and refresh. We start all over again in the morning.’
The young witch dipped her head in acknowledgement, sheathing her training sword and ducking under the netting. The students made way as she passed, looking at her with respect. An’ Lawrence was obviously not the only one she had impressed. He chuckled quietly as he stood alone in the arena with the darkness setting in. He was creating quite a warrior. What would Nell think of that?
He rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn’t dispel his musings. She clearly had him remembering feelings he hadn’t counted on, and didn’t want.
Are you going to the baths as well? The voice of his familiar came to him from behind the armoury.
His brow relaxed. ‘Scylla, it’s a wonderful idea, but that would keep me in her presence. It’s not the most beneficial plan. I’m having enough trouble coping when she is attacking me with a sword. I can’t imagine what would happen if I let my guard down.’