Strange Attractors - Kim Falconer [109]
I just need some air.
Grayson’s pretty confused. He…
Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. She let out a long slow breath. I can’t deal with it right now.
Her bare feet padded down the hall, Drayco beside her. She stopped and winked at her familiar. I’m shifting, Dray. Watch out.
In here? Maudi, the walls are too close and they…
There was a boom and a shatter as picture frames jumped off their hooks. The shock wave from her morphing rebounded from the walls and smacked the back of her head. She dropped to her belly, then leapt up and ran full pelt down the hall, her wolf form sleek and graceful.
…might be a hindrance. Drayco finished his thought.
I see that now, Dray. She looked over her shoulder. It’s a good thing I didn’t try that in the library. Kreshkali would…
‘Kreshkali would what?’
Rosette looked just in time to leap over the threshold and run straight into Hotha and Kreshkali ascending the steps. Drayco skidded to a halt and Rosette picked herself up, limping slightly as she followed them back into the shade of the entrance. Kreshkali threw out her hand. ‘Don’t even think about shifting. You can stay like that and go for a hunt. Teg too.’ She closed her eyes briefly. ‘The lot of you need a good run. Take Fynn!’ The young dog had run down the hall after her.
In this heat?
‘Especially in this heat. You’ve been cooped up too long. I don’t know if you can stand it, but I can’t. Go hunt!’
The notes?
‘I’ll read them. We’ll discuss it over supper.’ She gazed at the sun. ‘That’ll give you three hours. Go!’ She clapped her hands and Rosette took off, Drayco leading the way. In a few moments, Teg caught up, Fynn behind him, and the four sped through the orchard, veering towards the red desert plains and the nearest smoking mountain.
They were three days into the march and Xane had the grey mare as calm and responsive as a well-schooled cavalry horse. He even led his section of the scouting party, under Willem’s command.
‘She’s not green-broke any more, lad. Job well done.’
‘Thank you, sir, but all it takes is a few long days in the saddle. She knows her business now.’ He stroked her neck as he looked at the mountain peaks to the north. ‘We’re heading for the Dumar Gorge?’ he asked. ‘The pass will be tricky this time of year. There can be…’ He cut himself short. How could he possibly know what there could be in the Dumar Pass this time of year?
‘Can be what, lad?’
‘Sudden blizzards, I’d imagine?’ He said it like a question but he knew the answer was correct. He could clearly see the track in his mind’s eye and he felt like he could calculate the chances of any weather pattern at any given moment. Calculate? Xane realised that before the battle on the Corsanon Fields, he couldn’t multiply double digits in his head and he certainly wouldn’t have used the word calculate. He closed his eyes, testing. Twelve times twenty-three is two hundred seventy-six. The answer came instantly, almost before he asked the question. Two hundred seventy-six times four hundred ninety-seven is one hundred thirty-seven thousand seventy-two. One hundred thirty-seven thousand seventy-two times… He blinked, realising that Willem was talking.
‘We’ll get through the pass without trouble. We’ve weather witches along to make sure of it.’
Xane’s eyebrows went up. ‘High Priestesses from Temple Corsanon? Riding with us?’
Willem nodded while Xane multiplied a few more numbers. He had no idea if his instant answers were correct or not. He’d have to wait until camp to work it out longhand. He frowned. He had no idea how to do that beyond double digits. How could these figures have jumped into his head, as quick as lightning? He went back to simpler calculations, ones he knew he could check on paper. Forty-seven times ninety-eight equals four thousand six hundred and six, which is numerologically a seven, the number associated with thinking, analysing, introspection. He bit his lower lip. Numerologically? What was happening to his mind?
He knew old Rall threw the numbered stones and muttered the meanings