Strange Attractors - Kim Falconer [149]
‘If you can’t speak one at a time, how do you expect to hear each other?’ she asked. ‘You’re behaving like whelps with a single shin bone.’
He’s the whelp, An’ Lawrence said to her privately. He glared at Teg. Why is he even here?
Because he’s my apprentice.
I can’t see how this will resolve as long as your Sword Master refuses to acknowledge the true threat of the Corsanons, Hotha said, his inner voice drowning out her own.
‘Get out of my head, the both of you,’ she yelled, rubbing her temples.
They all pulled back and she stood, leaning into the table and tapping her finger on the map. ‘Let’s review what we know,’ she said, her voice low and smooth. ‘Just the facts. Where are the Corsanon warriors?’
Hotha stood beside her, pointing to the mountainous regions. ‘They’ve crossed the Goregan River and are heading for the northern Prieta pass, ill prepared.’
‘More than ill prepared,’ Teg said. ‘Now that they are out of the Corsanon lands, they’re storming like locusts.’
‘Locusts?’
‘They’re slaughtering livestock, felling trees and fouling streams. They’re five hundred strong. It’s a lot of mouths to feed, man, woman and beast. They’re decimating the land as they go. The settlers in their path are being slain. They can’t stand against that many, even the fey ones.’
Kreshkali visualised the path left behind them, and narrowed her eyes to slits.
‘Now can you see the need to stop them before they get any further? This is no longer a diversion. We must protect the land,’ An’ Lawrence said.
Hotha raised his hand. ‘But if we wait until Rashnan and the Lupins under Los Loma arrive…’
‘It will be too late!’ An’ Lawrence cut in.
The argument erupted again.
‘Enough!’ Kreshkali gripped the edge of the table and overturned it in one quick heave. Scylla’s hackles went up as she leapt aside, hissing. Cups, mugs, maps and plates crashed to the ground, the notes floating like leaves in the sudden silence. Kreshkali turned to Hotha. ‘Is Rashnan coming?’
‘He’s a day’s trek away, one hundred Lupins strong.’
She wheeled on the Sword Master. ‘How far are we from the Corsanons if we march immediately?’
‘Thirty leagues to the scouts. Another ten to the legions.’
She pulled the table back upright, the others helping.
‘It’s clear we cannot let them reach Temple Dumarka. That must be protected, first order. Can we take half our troops and circle past the scouts?’
‘Trapping them between us and Rashnan’s warriors?’ Hotha asked.
‘That could work,’ An’ Lawrence said, tracing the route on the map.
‘As long as we weren’t detected.’ Teg’s voice was soft.
Kreshkali left the three with their heads together, working out the details.
Mistress?
I’m going to get some sleep. Wake me in an hour. She smiled at his affirmative and headed for her tent.
Clay wiped down his guitar strings before closing the case. He slung it over his back then mounted the chestnut gelding and rode out into the sunshine. When Shane didn’t follow, he called over his shoulder. ‘It’s a horse, Shane, not the peaks of Prieta.’
Shane heaved, scrambling into the saddle. The brown horse sighed, swishing his tail when the saddle slipped to the side, Shane hitting the ground like a sack of potatoes.
‘Forget to tighten your girth?’ Clay asked, laughter crinkling his face.
Shane let out a string of curses as he brushed himself off.
‘Who taught you to ride?’ Clay asked.
‘Rosette, though I’ve had little chance to practise.’
‘I can see that.’ Clay hopped off the chestnut and re-saddled Shane’s horse, tightening the girth snugly and giving him a leg up. ‘Even your reins! You’re sending her in circles.’
Shane sat rigid, looking at either side of the horse’s neck, trying to get the lengths right. Clay held the horse still, taking a twist out of the bridle strap. ‘Lucky she’s a school horse, eh?’ After a little more adjusting they were on the road, heading back to Treeon. ‘I still don’t understand it,’ Clay said. ‘Why did I wake