Arrows of Time - Kim Falconer [92]
A woman approached, walking towards them at a leisurely pace. She wore a long green dress, black laceup boots and a light, open robe. A temple cat strode beside her. Selene’s hand went to her sword.
‘Why didn’t you pick up on her?’ she asked Jarrod.
‘I did.’
‘You could have warned us.’
Jarrod chuckled. ‘I couldn’t get a word in.’
Nell watched from her vantage point behind the brambles, her lips stained purple from the sweet berry juice. Not far off, a man and a woman argued. The woman’s face was red, her hands gesticulating. The man backed away, keeping her at arm’s length. He looked familiar.
Torgan? Do we know him?
He was with Rosette. Played flute, remember?
Ah! Shane…That seems so long ago now.
Shane argued with the woman while the other man ignored them both. He stood with his eyes closed as one viewing the inner landscapes of the mind.
The hairs on Nell’s arms rose suddenly, and Torgan bristled. Something brushed her consciousness, like a sweep across her cheek. It was gentle, soft, but enveloping like a breeze that rushes into a house when you first open the window. She looked closer at the other man. His eyes were still closed. You felt that, Torgan?
I did.
Can he see us?
Not unless he has third vision.
Men don’t.
I know.
Nell swallowed. It feels like he’s staring right at me, touching me.
If it feels like he’s staring at you, Nellion, then he probably is.
It doesn’t make sense.
Unless he’s not what he appears to be.
She gripped the feline’s neck. Torgan, this is it.
The one in the message?
It could be no one else.
She’d been lost in the corridors for what seemed like years, and she was coming to the conclusion that no matter how much insight she gained about the past, or the future, none of it would change her situation back home. The curious note she’d found in Rosette’s pack, with its set of instructions addressed to Nellion Paree of the Dumarkian Woods, had remained a mystery. Until now. This could be the man that the message spoke of, the quantum sentient Rosette had expected her to know.
She drew in a long breath. Before finding the letter—the one written to herself by herself, the one that she didn’t remember composing—she thought it was somewhere ‘out there’ that things had to be manipulated. Now that she’d glimpsed the many-worlds first-hand, she knew it wasn’t. What she was searching for was right here where she stood, and she finally comprehended what had to be done. Nell staggered, tightening her grip on Torgan’s neck. The realisation struck hard.
Her desire to remove Corvey from his authority over Treeon Temple had not dissipated, though at times it was pushed back while a more pressing concern took hold. Travelling the corridors had a strange effect on the mind. It often rearranged things—memories as well as priorities. Her old world didn’t fully exist for her any more—a world that must be manipulated by external efforts, plans and strategies acted out with the aid of others. She was immersed in another reference now, one that transcended the ordinary boundaries of time, space, and conventional reality. She didn’t know if she would find her way back to her Dumarka, or if Corvey would even be in power any more—or yet—when she got there. And if he was, or was not, would it really matter? In the expanse of the corridors, it was a grain of sand in the Mobbie Desert. And now that she’d found Jarrod, there were other grains of sand to trace, other priorities. She felt them sting her skin.
Eyes open, Nell. He watches.
‘He’s definitely spotted us,’ she whispered to her familiar.
And he is the one?
She stepped out from behind the brambles, still holding a handful of blackberries. She popped another into her mouth, purple juice trickling down her thumb. ‘Only one way to find out.’
And how’s that?
‘Introduce ourselves.’ She laughed. ‘Come on, Torgan. Time to make new friends.’
‘Where do you think we are?’ Rosette asked, turning in a full circle.
A refuse dump? Drayco sneezed. This place reeks.
‘He doesn’t seem to mind,’ she said, pointing to Fynn. His nose was