Arrows of Time - Kim Falconer [2]
‘It wouldn’t want to be. We’ve almost no water left, certainly not enough to get back to Half Moon Bay.’
‘There’ll be fountains full of it on the estate.’
‘Are you sure about that? The place might be rubble, destroyed by the quakes.’
Kreshkali remained bright. ‘As I think it, so it is. There’s water, Rowan. I promise.’
An’ Lawrence jogged alongside Kreshkali, his mouth turned down at the corners. How she could remain so cheery in this sun-stroked, dead-beaten, fly-ridden land was beyond him. They’d spent days looking for signs of her ancestor’s home grounds. Futile venture. It would be dust and ruin after all that had happened here. He swatted his neck and picked the dead insect from between his fingers. ‘Old man?’ he asked without looking at her.
She laughed. ‘It’s a figure of speech.’
‘It hardly applies,’ he said. He urged his horse around a newly opened crack in the ground. Scylla sprang neatly over it. ‘If you’re counting years, Kreshkali, I’d be…’
She stopped him with a look. ‘I’m not counting years.’
‘I’ll bet you’re not.’
She slowed her horse to a walk, loosening her reins. The mare lowered her head, nostrils fluttering. ‘Old man was a reference to your optimism,’ she said.
‘I’m not optimistic.’
‘Exactly.’ She leaned over and gripped his forearm. ‘Can you choose your words more carefully? Things are only as grim as you think them.’
‘This again?’
‘Of course this again. It will be “this again” until you get it.’ She smiled. ‘It’s not like the laws of the universe are going to change to suit your grumpy belief system.’
‘But isn’t that just a limiting belief as well?’
‘Not as limiting as your pessimism.’
‘Are you saying I created the earthquake?’
‘I’m saying, think calm and serene and you’ll experience calm and serene.’
‘I promise I’ll be as happy as summer solstice the moment you stop thinking of me as an old man.’ He hoped that would keep her quiet for a moment. It didn’t.
‘More of your circular arguments! An’ Lawrence, I’m not the cause or the effect of your moods.’
‘Oh, but you are.’ He laughed, and she tossed him a look that sent fire up his spine.
I hate to interrupt the philosophical discourse, Rowan, but you do realise they’re following, don’t you?
The voice of his temple cat swept into his mind, a familiar touch. He spotted her running ahead, her buff-coloured coat vivid against the stark red landscape. Her ears were pointed forward, like radar scoping the distance.
‘Who’s that, my lovely?’
The demon dogs.
‘Who’s what?’ Kreshkali asked, not hearing Scylla’s part of their dialogue.
‘Lupins. Apparently not far off.’ How close, Scylla? he asked.
Very.
Can you be more specific?
How far can you throw a stone?
He straightened his spine and studied the landscape. Ravines and fissures cut their way through the barren hillside, scars on an ancient face. Giant red boulders jutted out from the land at strange angles. They reminded him of the half-buried statues of the old gods, abandoned or forgotten on Gaela’s distant islands of Rahana Iti. The rotting husks of dead oak trees lay scattered like so many broken limbs. Only two healthy trees stood in the distance, shading the fence line ahead. He had no idea how they survived but it was a refreshing view. I can’t see the Lupins anywhere, he said to Scylla.
That doesn’t mean they aren’t nearby.
In front or behind, my lovely?
We’re surrounded.
Right. Good to know.
When they reached the gate, An’ Lawrence dismounted, mopping his brow. The sun shone relentlessly now that they’d disabled the solar shields. It had taken less than a year for the continuous rain to stop. The Earth was drying out. Kali said balance would return, eventually. He hoped it would be in his lifetime, and the sooner the better. He’d known nothing like this heat, even in the desert plains of Corsanon. It wilted almost everything it touched.
‘Look at the apple trees,’ Kreshkali said. ‘They’re as sound and fresh as any stock from Gaela.’
He examined them, rubbing a green leaf between his fingers and thumb. These specimens didn’t