Strange Attractors - Kim Falconer [134]
‘The Sea-goat?’ Kreshkali asked. It was bold to inquire, she knew. Those in power rarely gave information about their birth charts unless it suited them and even then it could be hard to authenticate. Sometimes a priestess wouldn’t announce the birth of her child for days after the event to cloud the exactitude of her child’s horoscope. Knowledge was power in the time of the temple wars. Information embedded in the birth chart could be used as a weapon. But sometimes the sharing of such information could build trust. Kreshkali was hoping for the latter.
Saphon laughed. ‘I do like to plan things, you’ve got that right. But let’s leave the intimate details aside, at least until we get to know each other.’
Well answered, Kreshkali said, using her mental voice.
Ah, the mind speech. I rarely get that uninvited, from a human, anyway. Thank you. Saphon looked back at the temple cats. Some were wandering out into the woods, others following through the courtyard. The mare had been led away, the sight of so many felines too much for her. Are you testing me, High Priestess Kreshkali?
I hope I’m protecting you.
Corsanon rides?
They are crossing the Goregan River this moment. ‘What lovely flowers,’ Kreshkali said aloud, her fingertips brushing the hanging baskets as they walked past.
‘There are gardeners among us,’ Saphon said. ‘From the Southern Cusca Plains. They know how to grow a posy there.’
‘Indeed.’ You have spies? Kreshkali asked.
Doesn’t every temple?
They sat at a table under the trees; the light filtered through the branches and made golden patterns as the limbs swayed. After a light meal of cornbread, honey and spiced apricots, and more polite exchanges than Kreshkali thought she could endure, Saphon got down to business.
How many?
Five hundred strong.
Five hundred? Saphon paced, her bare feet padding alongside her temple cat’s. What could provoke this? She turned to Kreshkali. Horsed or on foot?
Marching, for the most part. About one hundred cavalry. Kreshkali put her arm out to stop Saphon. It will take them another six days to get here. We have time.
Time for what? This is not a warrior temple. Our skills are in explorations of the mind, not battle.
The towers?
They are for the star watchers.
Did they foresee this?
Saphon crossed her arms. ‘Change comes in many forms,’ she said aloud.
‘And change there will be.’ But, Saphon, it is the skill of the mind that can turn them.
With illusion?
Alteration. High Priestess, you are not alone in this. My warriors…
From Treeon?
Not exactly, but I do have skilled fighters. They plan to meet the Corsanons and turn them back.
Saphon returned to the table. She sat opposite Kreshkali and folded her hands. Forgive my bluntness. I fear it will betray another quality of my personal zodiac, but why would I listen to you, Kreshkali? I have no knowledge of you or these events, forward or backward in time. No dreams, no premonitions, no point of reference. No predictions. It is like you came out of nowhere. Unheard of and unheralded. Why would I trust you?
You will, Saphon.
How can you be so certain?
‘Because you already have.’ Kreshkali again spoke aloud, letting the words ring through the hallways.
‘And have you seen the results? Do the temple cats and priestesses of the Dumarkian Woods prosper?’
Kreshkali lowered her voice. ‘Not yet. But I think this time, they will.’
This time?
I’m confident, yes.
CHAPTER 17
DUMARKIAN WOODS, CORSANON & CUSCA PLAINS, GAELA
Grayson hesitated at the garden gate, listening to the cacophony of sounds, searching for a single voice amongst the myriad others. It was a contrast to the stark winter silence of his last visit. The creek babbled, flush with spring runoff. Woodpeckers were tapping away, magpies sang their sweet operas and butcherbirds twittered in the trees. The caws of the Three Sisters rose above them all, loud enough to bring an army. He didn’t hear anything else—particularly, he didn’t hear the cry of an infant. ‘Rosette?’ he called. ‘Nell? Drayco?’
‘Drayco’s not here. He’s catting about