Kreshkali urged her mare into an easy jog, which Jaynan’s horse matched. ‘The child?’ she replied. ‘Seems Archer got his instructions wrong. The child’s dead. Do you know how that could’ve happened, Jaynan?’
She knows! Or at least, she suspects. I can’t let her go back to Earth now, and I can’t turn my back.
‘What will we do?’
Kreshkali stretched her neck, leaning from side to side. ‘We’ll rest the horses and have supper before we head back home. The death changes everything.’
‘But…we have to keep moving!’
‘Do we?’ Kreshkali glanced down at the sheath that held her staff.
‘It isn’t safe.’ Jaynan gestured out into the black maw of trees that lined both sides of the road.
Kreshkali kept her face smooth. ‘What did you have in mind?’
‘Keep hiding, of course. We can go straight to Los Loma. It’s safe there. If we ride through the night, we’ll be…’
‘I’m not hiding any more,’ Kreshkali replied, throwing her voice behind her as she moved ahead at a gallop.
Of course you aren’t, my queen. And that’s why they sent me, just in case Archer failed.
They sped along until the woods thinned out into a grey meadow. Kreshkali brought her mare to a halt, dust rising around the horses’ legs.
‘Does this look
safer
to you?’ she asked, not waiting for an answer. She dismounted and led her mare out into the field.
She looked ethereal, like she was walking on water, the grass a shallow sea undulating beneath her feet. For an instant, Jaynan’s eyes burned, and she brushed the tears with her fists.
‘Wait up,’ she said, swinging her leg over the saddle and dropping lightly to the ground. ‘There’s something I didn’t mention.’
Not quite all the trackers are gone, my love.
‘What’s that?’ Kreshkali turned back as Jaynan’s thin sword levelled at her neck.
‘You have yet to deal with me.’
Kreshkali let the mare’s reins slip through her fingers. ‘What’s this?’
‘You’re coming back to Earth with me.’
‘Or?’
‘Or die here.’
Kreshkali lifted her head, avoiding eye contact. ‘I’m not going with you.’
Without hesitation, Jaynan thrust the sword tip forward.
Kreshkali’s mare reared, iron-shod hooves pawing the air. Kreshkali stepped to the side, inches out of the line of the blade, her own dagger flashing briefly before it sank deep between Jaynan’s ribs.
The tracker’s eyes went wild, searching for comprehension as her sword fell from her hand. ‘They’ll send more,’ she said, dropping to her knees. ‘You’ll never be free.’
‘Ah, but I will, sweet Jaynan. And you would have been too, if you’d only trusted me.’ Kreshkali bent to kiss the other woman as she slid to the ground.
The mare’s nose fluttered over the blood before it seeped into the grass. The moon went behind a billow of clouds, sucking light from the meadow as Jaynan died.
Kreshkali closed her eyes, no longer able to hold back the tears.
She rode for five days, stopping only to feed and rest her horse. On the sixth night, she arrived at the slopes of the Jacor Mountains above the treeline of Espiro Dell Ray. The stars winked in and out of view as mist drifted across the night sky. The mare rubbed her face on Kreshkali’s shoulder, covering her cloak in horsehair.
‘You deserve a rest.’ She took off the saddle and bridle, giving the mare’s shoulder an affectionate slap, and turned her out to graze.
She slipped the keg from her back and dug a shallow grave with her hands. She knelt in the grass in front of it, tears blurring her vision. With her dagger she cracked open the keg, sloshing the contents onto the ground.
Unwittingly, Bethsay…I had a hand in this.
She covered the site with small rocks, making a stone idol at each of the four directions.
You, and your family, won’t be forgotten.
The veil of mist dropped as the three-quarter moon shone through, dimming the stars. It painted everything with an iridescent sheen, bathing her skin in milky-blue light.
Into the night,
Into the dark,
Travel the worlds
Unencumbered.
The greater mysteries await.
‘Forgive me, Bethsay, and know that you will be avenged.’
She sat by the gravesite for the rest of the night and wept.
‘
S
tars in the sky, look at you!’ ‘Nell!’ Rosette whooped with delight as she ran to the gate.
Nellion Paree stood in the garden, her long auburn hair playing in the spring breeze. She had the body of a dancer and a spirit like the sea—fathomless, unpredictable, life-giving, life-threatening. Her dark hazel eyes crinkled with her grin. However old she was—thirty, forty, fifty, older—Rosette didn’t know. Nell beamed with timeless exuberance and energy. Her ivory-coloured dress lifted above her bare feet as she opened her arms, its wide neckline slipping off one shoulder, revealing the tattoo of a black raven on her upper arm.
‘Come in, you gorgeous girl. I’ve been waiting for you!’
Rosette unlatched the wooden gate and entered the garden. It was like stepping into another realm where everything around her exploded with colour. Pink azaleas and sunny orange tiger lilies lined the path, and vivid unnamed blooms spilled out of the window boxes, setting off the cedarwood cottage with clusters of purple, red and lavender. Huge roses circled the
chamomile lawn, their blossoms exquisite shades of pink, peach and tamarind, their fragrance intoxicating. She took a deep breath. The place seemed smaller than she remembered, though every bit as magical.
A creek gurgled in the background as it rushed towards the rugged coastline, a short hike to the west. At night the sound of the ocean crashing against the towering cliffs would fill her dreams. Once she had looked down from that vantage point. Her stomach had turned somersaults. Boulders larger than men were like tiny pebbles from where she stood. It took three hours to follow the winding track to the bottom, but she hadn’t been allowed to explore.
As Rosette raced up the path, ravens squawked and flapped and red-eyed figbirds and brightly coloured finches chattered in the shrubs. Several hummingbirds with ruby throats and chartreuse bodies hovered over the honeysuckle blossoms that draped the fence, their wings beating so fast they were invisible. What a wonder to be so close to the wild woods, far away from the noise and clatter of the city. Her father had said that Nell was a hermit, but Rosette saw a sanctuary teeming with spirit friends.
‘How’d you know I was coming?’ she asked in a rush, reaching for the woman and falling into her arms.
Nell nodded to the three ravens sitting in the lower branches of a central weeping willow. The corvids stopped their preening and tilted their blue-white eyes as if following the path of a fly. Together they cawed again and took flight. Rosette watched them flap away, each shooting off in a different direction, heading for the tall pines surrounding Nell’s home.
‘Every twig, sparrow and snake has spoken of your coming for the past two days,’ she said, looking into the distance. ‘The Three Sisters haven’t stopped yakking about it all morning. How could I not know?’
Rosette squeezed Nell tightly. ‘It’s good to be here.’
‘Where are your things?’
Rosette untangled herself from the embrace and looked into Nell’s eyes. ‘This is all I’ve got.’
‘Leave in a hurry, did you, Kalindi Rose?’
Rosette shuddered. She glanced over her shoulder then back to Nell. ‘Don’t say that name.’
Nell searched her face. ‘What’s this about?’
‘I’m…’ She blanched, her hands beginning to tremble. ‘I’m Rosette now, Rosette de Santo. You mustn’t say my birth name again.’
‘Why ever not?’
Rosette looked down at her feet, tears falling. ‘Something…something terrible’s happened.’
‘I can see that.’
Nell gathered her into her arms again and held her tight. The garden went strangely silent for a moment and Rosette felt a warmth flooding her body, chasing away the fear and hurt. When Nell let her go, the garden came back to life, abuzz with chatter.
‘Come inside, Rosette. You’re exhausted. You need to eat, and rest.’
‘Thank you, Nell. I am a bit dizzy. I don’t know if I can eat.’
‘We’ll see about that.’
Rosette took off her boots, lining them up on the porch next to Nell’s, and crossed the threshold. The smells of baking bread, cinnamon, mint and roast meat did seem inviting. They sat at the black oak table, side by side, and held hands.
‘Tell me what happened, Rosette. What are you running from?’
Rosette felt tears welling again as she reported the events, stuttering when she came to the kitchen scene. Nell didn’t speak, nor did she let go of her hands. She drew Rosette out of her chair and into her lap, rocking
her gently. Rosette let her tears fall and they ran down her face, mixing with Nell’s.
‘You did right to disappear,’ Nell said, stirring a cast-iron pot.
It simmered on the hearth, making Rosette’s mouth water. They had just returned from an early-morning walk—a good night’s sleep reviving her spirits, and her appetite.
‘If someone wanted to punish John’ra that’s one thing, and it’s done, but if they wanted…something else, that’s another matter altogether.’
Rosette washed her hands in the basin, drying them with a brightly coloured kitchen towel. ‘What do you mean,
something else?
’
‘Just speculation.’ Nell frowned. ‘Did you speak to anyone in Dumarka?’
‘I came straight here.’
‘You remembered the way?’
‘Easy, though I’d forgotten how far it was.’
‘It’s not so easy for just anyone,’ Nell said. She opened the oven door and a wave of heat and bakery aromas poured out. ‘Did you use your family name on the ship or at the harbour in Flureon?’
‘Only de Santo, if that.’
‘You’ve done well, sweetheart.’
Nell turned to the pantry beside the stove and took butter and cheese from the cold box and set them out on the table. Rosette got out plates and cups.
‘But, Nell, why did this happen? Do you know?’
Nellion smoothed her dress before putting her hands on her hips. ‘There are enemies in the world, Rosette.’
‘Enemies?’
‘Come. Eat first. I need to think. Plenty of time for philosophy later.’
Rosette frowned. ‘Philosophy?’
‘Philosophy and speculation. That’s all anything is, second-hand.’
While Nell prepared the food, Rosette leaned back in her chair. Her face relaxed as she scanned the cottage, taking it in properly for the first time. The rows of books by the back wall had increased since she’d last visited. Leather-bound volumes of various shapes and sizes were stacked on shelves that climbed halfway to the ceiling. A four-poster bed with crimson cushions and a purple velvet quilt filled the far corner. Woven rugs covered the hardwood floor, cushions were scattered about, and various herbs hung from the beams over the kitchen, adding a mix of earthy fragrance to the cottage.
She spotted the mobiles of planets circling above in miniature orbits around bright orange suns. The broad window seat where she’d slept was covered with quilts, warm and comfortable on the far side of the hearth. Rosette had been warm and snug all night, even though the temperature dropped quickly once the sun set. The glowing coals had been a welcome heat. She studied the design of stained glass in the high windows to the east—they had amazed her early in the morning—the sunlight through them making a splash of rainbows when she awoke.
Her gaze was drawn directly overhead, and she started. ‘Nell!’ She shrank back. ‘What’s that?’
Hanging from the rafters, its body draped in serpentine loops around the wooden beams, was a huge yellow-and-black-speckled snake.
‘
Who
is that,’ Nell corrected.
Rosette swallowed, not taking her eyes off the animal. ‘Who, then?’
‘It’s Mozzie.’
‘Mozzie?’
‘Short for Mosaic. He’s a carpet snake, of course, a python. Don’t you have them in Lividica?’
‘Not like that.’
‘Like what?’
‘Not like that big. And not in the house.’
‘Well, Mozzie lives inside.’
‘He was there last night? Watching me sleep?’
‘More likely he was under your bed. You’ll get used to him.’
Rosette didn’t reply.
‘He keeps the rodents down, among other things.’ Nell ladled porridge into blue ceramic bowls. ‘Still hungry, aren’t you?’
Rosette cleared her throat and nodded.
Nell swept away her books and notes, stacking them on a small desk before laying out the bowls, fresh milk, bread and honey.
Rosette sighed as she turned her attention to the meal. ‘Very hungry,’ she answered, glancing back up at Mozzie.
Nell smiled, toasting her with a mug of spiced cider.
‘To warm reunions.’
Rosette raised her mug and smiled, the cider sweet on her lips.
‘I see you got away with your travelling charm,’ Nell said, studying her necklace.
‘Jarrod got it out of the house for me.’
‘Who’s that?’
‘Jarrod Cossica—he’s my best friend…What’s wrong?’
Nell’s brow was knitted. ‘I remember a man with that name many years ago. Is he…’
‘Old?’ Rosette laughed. ‘He’s my age—just a boy really. He grew up next door.’
‘Not him, then.’ Nell blew on a spoonful of porridge. ‘Is he Cossica’s oldest son?’
‘No, that’s Liam. Jarrod is the youngest.’
‘I don’t remember him.’
‘He’s a foundling.’
‘And is this foundling of yours the only one who knows you’re here?’
‘Him, and possibly Liam. There are few secrets between them, though he said he’d tell no-one.’
‘What about your sisters?’
Rosette shook her head. ‘Both married. Leea’s on a sheep farm near Dumar. She probably hasn’t even heard yet.’
‘And Sasha?’
‘Under Mount Pele, with a glassblower. Three kids now.’
Nell was silent, her eyes drifting to the window. ‘I warned your mother that it wasn’t safe.’
‘What do you mean?’