Arrows of Time (15 page)

He ran on, catching the scent he was after. It touched him lightly as he veered around a broad ravine and shot north. He hadn’t forgotten his purpose; he’d just forgotten why it had concerned him so much. What would be, would be. Who was he to judge?

He spotted the cliffs opposite the black gates, noting the three ravens perched in the deadwood above the crevice. Of course she would send her familiars. He didn’t mind. On the contrary, she could watch all she wanted. Before he reached the cliff face, he dropped to a trot and sniffed the air again. Where was Teg?

On closer inspection he spotted the young Lupin in human form, hunched over a book, tapping a pen against the side of his head. Hotha growled—a deep vibration in his throat. The youth was obsessed with word puzzles.

He skidded to a halt and sat on his haunches, waiting. When Teg didn’t respond, he focused his mind and morphed into bipedal form. Instantly the worry and urgency flooded back. He shook his head, pushing stray hair off his face. Teg was still absorbed in the book. He hadn’t looked up but clasped it with both hands to keep the shockwave of Hotha’s transformation from ruffling the pages. Hotha cleared his throat.

Teg glanced up. ‘What’s a nine-letter word, starting with
p
, that means abundant or lush?’

Hotha’s face darkened. ‘I’ve a better question. What’s a lad doing playing with word puzzles when he’s meant to be watching for arrivals?’

Teg smiled. ‘I can do two things at once.’

‘The wind is too strong. It’s masking scents from the west. You could miss someone, or something.’

Teg looked out over the barren valley; a few brown tumbleweeds were rolling by with drifts of red dust trailing behind. ‘The Santa Ana?’

Hotha nodded, black waves of hair falling into his face. He smoothed it back with both hands and tied it at the nape of his neck, biceps flexing with the movement. ‘What do you know about her?’

‘Santa Ana?’ Teg said. ‘She’s from the east, a place in ancient times known as the Valley of Saint Anne—patron goddess of books.’ He frowned. ‘I don’t know why they say her wind comes from the mouths of demons, unless they were opposed to the teachings of the sacred feminine, or occult knowledge in general.’

‘There were plenty who equated scholarship with evil.’

Teg scratched his head, his face lighting up. ‘Plenitude,’ he said, writing the word into the small squares on the page. ‘Thank you!’

‘Demon blood vipers, Teg!’ Hotha shouted. ‘Put that away!’

The younger Lupin rose, dusting off his leather pants. He folded his puzzle in half and used it as a place marker in a larger tome. Hotha caught the title before Teg slipped it into his pack.

‘
The Evolution of Consciousness in
…’ He tilted his head to read the rest. ‘
Closed System Societies?
’ Hotha snorted. ‘No secret how you’ll be voting. Where’s your sword?’

Teg clasped his side, his long fingers grasping at an
empty scabbard. His face fell. He stammered an unintelligible reply.

‘That’s it.’ Hotha’s lip curled up in a snarl. ‘I don’t care if the Sword Master was willing to take you on. You’re out. An apprenticeship with him, or me, is earned by attention to detail and exactitude. You’re lacking both. I’m done.’

‘Hotha, no! Please. I just forgot. It won’t happen again. I…’

‘It’s already happened too many times. If books are your weapons, you’ve no business here, keeping watch, nor training under me. How will you protect the council chambers if the need arises?’

‘I’m aware of…’

‘You’re aware of nothing! You didn’t even sense my arrival.’

‘I did! I knew it was you—no threat—so I just kept going with my…’

‘Word puzzle?’

‘Crossword puzzle, actually,’ he mumbled, his eyes on the ground.

‘And if I had been a threat? What then? You have no sword.’

‘I have my mind,’ Teg said, ‘and these.’ He lifted his hands, and his fingers curled—ten sickle claws jutting out.

‘Then you should have stayed on all fours.’

Teg hung his head again, nodding.

‘But you can’t read on all fours, can you?’

Teg drooped lower, his shoulders hunched. ‘Not so well,’ he whispered.

The elder Lupin gazed towards the gates of Temple Los Loma. He sighed and turned back to Teg. His face relaxed.

‘Look, son, here’s what we’re going to do. If things go well in there,’ he tilted his head towards the inner
cavern, ‘I’ll let Rashnan lead the fractious clans back to Los Loma, Gaela. The rest will stay here, under my watchful eyes.’

‘And me?’ Teg asked.

‘What if I send you to the High Priestess Kreshkali? Maybe she can find use for your literary interests.’

‘Kreshkali?’ he said. His face transformed. ‘Our queen?’

‘They don’t call her that so much any more. Not here on Earth. Something about a double life…But there’s much you can learn from the witch, and I think she can use you too.’

‘I’ll be able to apprentice?’

‘That would be the plan, if you suit. She has different needs, Teg, different rules, and different magic.’ He caught himself and laughed. ‘Actually, Kali has only one rule.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Ask her yourself,’ he said, brushing a fly from his face. ‘You’ll start out as an envoy to the council, a go-between. You’ll report to me too, of course.’

‘She’ll have me?’ Teg’s eyes glistened. ‘Kreshkali wants me? She knows who I am?’

‘I suspect she does now.’ Hotha lowered his eyelids. When he opened them the three ravens took flight, screaming a victory call, their wings tearing the air as they sped away. ‘You’re in.’

‘When?’

‘It’s already done.’

Teg froze for a moment, his hands braced on his thighs. As the sun came out from behind a cloud, he bent his knees, threw back his head and howled—long, deep and joyful.

Rosette stood at the edge of the cliff, the wind blowing her cloak away from her body like a dark flag. It was
clasped at the throat, dark red lining whipping against the rich black wool. She could smell apple cider. It reminded her of another time when she’d stood above the temple valley. It seemed ages ago. Where had the naivety gone? She stared at the grounds, her eyes shielded against the bright sunlight, scrutinising everything.

The rows of jacarandas and acacias looked thinner than she remembered, but that could simply reflect the time of year. The redwood grove was the same—massive trunks that rose up towards the top of the valley with their rich and fragrant green branches. The courtyard statues were all familiar and in the right place, though their companion trees were gone, unless the saplings near them counted. The brightly coloured banners that topped the temple library were absent; short flags, dark purple and black, were in their place. She wrapped her cloak around herself and called to Drayco, stroking the back of his neck when he appeared. ‘It’s not what I expected,’ she whispered to him. ‘Something’s not quite as it should be, no matter when it is.’

He stood at her side, scenting the air.
I agree, Maudi, this isn’t our time. But more pressing for the moment—someone is coming.

‘Where?’

Rosette leaned forward, watching the bend in the road that led out of the valley.

Just ahead. It’s a rider. Coming up from Treeon. Can’t you smell her?

‘Not like you can, my lovely. Beware?’

Always.

His hackles went up at the sound of hooves clipping over the cobbles. Rosette closed her eyes and reached out with her inner sight to perceive the traveller. A horse and rider were winding their way
along the zigzag path that led from the valley floor. She got an image of messages; many to deliver by the look of the saddlebags filled to the brim with scrolls and booklets. It was most likely an apprentice on her mentor’s errands. She shut her eyes tighter. The horse shone in her vision like a newly pressed gold piece. Perhaps that was just the morning light in her face, though she knew there was such a colour—a golden yellow with white mane and tail. They called it palomino, a strain she’d never seen outside paintings and tapestries. They were common before the Corsanon wars, but few, if any, remained in Gaela now.
Could it be that long ago?

It could, Maudi.

The horse seemed young and eager, pulling against the reins, anxious to reach the top. He pranced and tossed his head as the rider, a young woman, held him to a collected trot. Rosette adjusted her assessment as they approached the crest of the grade. The one who handled the horse so expertly was probably only a girl, small, slender and topped with flames of wild red hair. She opened her eyes to find Shane staring at her.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

‘Checking out the approaching company,’ she answered.

‘What approaching company?’

‘A girl on a horse.’ Rosette nodded to the rider as she appeared over the top of the ridge. It was a palomino after all, and not the sunlight.

Rosette’s group hadn’t been spotted yet, and none of them moved.

‘Do you know her?’ Shane asked.

‘I don’t think so.’

Shane dug his hands into his pockets and shivered. ‘Is it me, or has it suddenly got colder?’

Rosette hooded her eyes and stared at the rider. ‘It isn’t just you,’ she whispered. ‘Be ready.’

‘For what?’

Rosette shook off the chill and shielded her mind, closing her thoughts from any who might pry. The girl may or may not be a mind-traveller, but either way, Treeon would be full of them, and Rosette suddenly felt the need for caution.
Drayco? Lie low, can you? The horse might spook when he picks up your scent. They’re coming straight this way.

Where would you like me to go?
The temple cat yawned massively before gazing into Rosette’s eyes.

Perhaps into the trees, just in case?
‘We should all step slowly to the side of the road,’ she said aloud, tugging on Shane’s sleeve and pulling him with her. They were dead centre in the road when she heard Drayco’s voice.

Bad timing, Maudi.

The rider had been looking the other way, the horse preoccupied, snorting and shying away from the entrance flags that flapped like gangly wings. The girl moved her mount into a brisk trot and headed straight into their midst as if they had been invisible. Drayco leapt to the side to avoid a direct collision, and the horse, seeing the huge feline, suddenly skidded to a halt and reared. When his front hooves touched the ground, he dropped his head, bucked once and ran. The girl was unseated, hitting the ground hard. Dust billowed around them. The young rider scrambled to her feet and raced off after her galloping mount.

‘Gem, whoa!’ she shouted in a high-pitched voice.

The horse galloped on.

Rosette cupped her hands to her mouth. ‘Whoa up!’ she yelled over the girl’s head, one arm thrusting out towards the retreating figures.

The human stopped immediately. The horse took a few more calls, but Rosette soon had the animal trotting back to them, ears pricked, stirrups flapping and reins dragging on the ground. He was a splendid coloured animal, immaculately groomed and in perfect condition. He stopped just short of his rider, nostrils flaring with each breath, neck arched, eyes locked on Drayco.

The rider was looking much the same as her mount—shocked at the sight of the witch and her familiar. Neither noticed Shane as he leaned against a tree by the side of the road, chewing on a blade of grass. The girl stroked her horse’s neck, eyes wide and staring.

‘It’s all right, lass. I’m Rosette de Santo. I apologise for the fright.’ Rosette looked the rider up and down. She was very young, nine at the most. ‘Are you okay? That was quite a spill.’

The girl continued to stare at Rosette, her mouth open. She didn’t look particularly frightened, but she did look surprised, as if she were trying to bring something to mind. Her spine straightened and her shoulders went back. ‘I’m fine, thank you,’ she answered, her breath coming out in a rush. She picked up the reins and dusted herself off before looping them over her horse’s head. ‘We got a startle, that’s all.’ She whispered to her mount before reaching onto her tiptoes. Grabbing a shock of mane at the horse’s withers, she vaulted up, her boots quickly finding the stirrups.

‘Sorry for that.’ Rosette smiled as the girl settled into the saddle, keeping the horse under better control. She was a well-trained equestrian. Rosette found herself nodding approval. ‘Have you never seen a Dumarkian temple cat before?’ she asked.

The girl swallowed. ‘Is that what it is?’

‘
He.
’ Rosette emphasised the pronoun. ‘Let me
introduce you to Drayco of the Dumarkian Woods. He’ll do neither you nor your fine mount any harm.’

‘Is he…’ She lowered her eyes as if searching for a word. ‘Your…’

‘My familiar?’

Her head shot up. ‘Is he?’

‘We are bonded, yes.’ Rosette raised her brows at the golden horse. ‘And him?’

Not hardly
, Drayco said, licking his forepaw and wiping dust from his eyes.

I know. I want to see what she says.

The girl smoothed her expression as she stroked the horse’s neck. ‘He’s not my horse and certainly not a familiar. I’m exercising him for High Priestess La Kaffa. He’s her favourite palfrey. I’m the only apprentice allowed to ride him.’

Rosette created a smile and held it in place. La Kaffa? Could it be that long ago? ‘And you are?’ Rosette asked in a pleasant tone.

‘I’m called Nell, apprentice to master archer Gunton.’ Her girlish voice was sweet and lilting, like sunshine on buttercups. She was proud of her rank.

Nell
? Rosette stumbled backwards, Drayco swaying at her side. Shane spat out the grass stem and made to draw his sword. She held out her hand to stop him.

‘Nell,’ Rosette said aloud. As the word escaped her lips, the ground seemed to rock underneath her feet. She felt the colour drain from her face.

Maudi, what’s going on? Is she really our Nell?

I’m not sure. Did you sense it?

Total surprise to me, but you better talk to her. She’s looking quite confused and sending some rapid messages back to the temple.