You mean ripples?
Yes, waves and ripples, if you must think in such horizontal dimensions.
Ripples,
Nell repeated.
I still don’t understand.
She felt a flick, like the closing of a book, before the ground dropped out from under her feet. In a split second, she was standing on a wooden bridge. It arched over a flowing river, the water below blue. Everglades spread out into the distance as far as she could see, and waterlilies and willows hugged the shore on either side.
‘Look down,’ said the Watcher.
He stood next to her, a man of medium height with sandy hair and dark eyes. He wore muslin fisherman’s pants and a pale orange cotton shirt, the tails wafting in the breeze. Prayer beads hung around his neck. His hands were folded in front of him.
‘Sphinx?’
The man raised his eyebrows.
‘What are you doing?’ She looked him up and down.
‘I like to try on different things, don’t you?’
She shrugged.
‘Look down,’ he said again.
Nell stepped closer to the rail and leaned over. She gazed at the ripples of water under the bridge. They were like little waves that constantly branched off, interfering with each other to form yet another wave and another.
‘Now look out there.’ The Watcher lifted his arm, opening it out towards the everglades.
Nell followed the ripples as they multiplied for as far as the eye could see. The Watcher smiled and touched her shoulder, guiding her to the other side of the bridge. There she saw the same thing—endless ripples of waves, and arched bridges—all heading out into the distance, leading to and from the waterlilies and willows, path after path after path.
‘Where would you like to stand?’
She looked at the Sphinx. ‘I can choose?’
‘You choose every time you draw in a breath, every time you exhale.’
He took a stone from his pocket and dropped it over the edge. When it hit the surface, waves flowed out from the impact point. They expanded towards each shore, upstream and downstream, an ever-increasing circumference, interfering with the ripples of the currents, creating more and more little waves.
‘Sphinx, are you saying there is something I can do in the future that will alter what has happened in the past? If I do something on one shore, it will change another?’
‘You could construct it in those terms, but I’m suggesting you stop thinking of past and future as if they were two different things. It’s all one river, one shore, one mind, one spiral, when you focus on it.’
‘And when I don’t focus on it?’
‘Then it is infinite ripples of possibility, each with a potential destiny of its own.’ Again he opened his arm out towards the flow of water until it blurred into the horizon.
‘But what if…’ She felt the tactile sensation of his departure.
‘I’ll leave you to contemplate.’ His voice trailed off, and he was gone.
‘That’s it? That’s all you have to say?’ Nell looked down at the water. She thought for a second it was laughing at her. ‘Enigmatic Watchers,’ she mumbled. ‘Just what I don’t need—another metaphysical puzzle.’
She wandered over the bridges for the rest of the day, dropping stones into the water and watching the ripples flow. Just before she dropped a particularly lovely greenstone over the edge, she straightened, slipping it into her pocket instead.
Bingo.
She shape-shifted into a red-tailed kite and caught a thermal. With one last look below, the ripples still clear with her raptor vision, she shot off towards the horizon, hoping that her cottage in Dumarka wasn’t far off.
The Three Sisters had been restless all day, scolding and flapping and cawing. They’d be quiet for a moment, composing themselves in a stately row, then suddenly the commotion would start all over again—flap, squawk, raucous. When the slanting light angled through the garden, turning red roses golden, they flew to the highest pine, watching all directions like weather-vanes.
‘When will you settle?’ she asked.
Someone comes! Someone tall, long legs.
‘Are you talking about a heron or a person?’
They squawked and flapped but didn’t answer.
She tapped the windowpane. ‘If someone’s approaching, why not fly out to meet them instead of sitting here all day and driving me nuts! I honestly don’t detect a threat!’
The middle raven tilted her head to stare into the cottage then took flight, followed by the other two.
Finally, some peace.
Person, Nellion. Long legs person.
How far off?
Long legs has a long walk.
She squared her shoulders and put the kettle on.
Nell sipped her tea and studied the chart before her. The eclipse would be on Saturn in less than three days. She never felt comfortable in the shadow of an eclipse and this one seemed particularly potent. It could coincide with a realisation, a disclosure and a choice to make. With Mars at a ninety-degree square to the lunar
nodes in the cardinal sign of the Ram, things would happen fast. Quite likely, there would be an uninvited guest.
‘Nothing my ravens didn’t tell me.’ She looked up at Mozzie draped over the rafters. ‘Be mindful, my beauty. Someone’s coming but I can’t say who.’
The snake flicked his tongue in her direction, uncoiling to meet her eye to eye.
Ally?
‘I hope so, Moz. Could use one about now.’
The fire had burned low when she heard the Three Sisters return and the gate latch click. Booted feet stepped confidently up the path, a purposeful walk, a man’s walk—long legs, indeed.
Mozzie coiled about the rafter in front of the door, tongue scenting. Nell washed her cup in the sink and set it carefully on the rack. She picked up her staff that leaned against the wall. Mozzie followed, but Nell held out a hand to stop him.
Let’s see who it is first, shall we?
The knock startled them, though they knew it was coming.
‘Nellion Paree?’ A young man’s voice called out. ‘Rosette?’
‘Who’s there?’ Nell asked. She ran her thumb over the carvings etched into her staff.
‘It’s Jarrod.’
The hairs on the back of her neck rose. ‘Say again?’
‘Jarrod Cossica; I’m a friend of Rosette’s. I’ve come from Lividica. I have news.’
Nell opened the door to a tall man with broad shoulders and a wry smile. He swept off his hat, revealing a mass of dark curls, and bowed—his eyes never leaving hers, his grin beaming.
‘Jarrod Cossica, ready to serve.’
After a moment his gaze shot past her and into the cottage, searching.
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 of Morzone.’