Strange Attractors - Kim Falconer [150]
‘You got very drunk.’
‘I don’t remember but I guess those stable girls might have been enough to lure me to the barn late last night.’
Shane shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Didn’t they appeal to you?’
‘Very much, but they had eyes only for each other. Besides, I distinctly recall you staggering into bed around dawn. Something’s not right.’
‘Most likely your memory.’
‘Maybe. I had a bit to drink myself.’
‘The more important question of the morning is, why would the witch Rall be riding towards Corsanon with a war about to break?’
‘War?’ Shane screwed up his face.
‘They’re marching on Dumarka. I can practically feel the ground shaking from here.’
‘You can’t feel any such thing,’ Shane said.
‘I can, and I do.’
Shane shook his head. ‘Perhaps she’s off to sack the unguarded citadel, or maybe the coffers. Who knows? Witches’ business.’
‘Our business. We’re witches’ spies.’ Clay grinned but let it fade when he saw Shane’s response. ‘What’s wrong now?’
‘Witches’ spies? You say it like it was an honour.’
‘It is!’
‘We’re bards caught in a death game, way over our heads.’
Clay wrinkled his nose. ‘I hadn’t thought of it that way.’
‘I have.’
They rode on, the whistle and chorus of magpies filling the air around them.
‘How do we get this news to Nell?’ Clay asked. ‘She’ll want to know.’
‘If she’s anything like the other Nells I’ve met, she’ll come to us before the day is out.’
‘Other Nells?’
‘Don’t ask. I can’t even explain it to myself.’
They trotted past farmlands, the pastures close-cropped, the cattle fat. A bird of prey whistled overhead and Shane’s horse came to a sudden stop. He slammed into the pommel, cursing. ‘What’s that for?’ he asked the horse, digging her sides with his heels. She didn’t budge.
‘Look, there.’ Clay pointed to the sky. ‘The bird’s coming this way.’
Shane’s horse snorted, backing up. A huge raptor headed straight towards them. It was flanked by three ravens.
‘Ease up on your reins. Legs still,’ Clay said. ‘She’s just spooked. Go with it.’ His eye followed the progress of the bird. ‘Why’s it coming at us like that?’
‘To land. You’ll have to do it. I can’t keep my horse still.’
‘Do what?’
‘Roll down your sleeve and hold out your arm.’
‘You’re kidding?’
‘She needs a place to touch down before she morphs.’
‘Morphs?’
‘It’s Nell. Be quick.’
Clay swallowed hard and held out his arm in time for the black falcon to stall overhead and alight on his wrist. The claws barely curled around his sleeve before she sprang, a shock wave blasting his face. His horse’s head was up, mane streaming in the wind. As he watched, mouth open, the falcon dissolved like grains of sand and a cloaked witch appeared. The chestnut horse jumped sideways and Clay was nearly unseated before he brought the animal under control.
‘Sorry, lads.’ Nell clucked to the horses and they settled, though their ears remained pricked, their necks crested. ‘What news do you have? Is Makee afoot?’
‘Not her,’ Shane said. ‘At least, not the Makee we left at Treeon.’
‘Who then?’
‘Her name’s Rall, a dark-haired witch, riding a golden warhorse.’
‘Beautiful woman,’ Shane said.
Clay nodded. ‘She was in the pub last night.’
‘For how long?’
‘She stayed over.’
‘Alone?’
Clay shook his head. ‘With her apprentice, Shaea.’
‘Shaea, is it?’
‘From the night in the corridors, yes.’ Clay sighed. ‘With the honey-red hair and dark eyes.’
‘She’s beautiful as well,’ Shane added.
‘Did you see, after noticing all this beauty, where they were headed?’
‘That’s the curious thing,’ Shane said. ‘They were riding straight back to Corsanon.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘The road only leads two ways—east to Corsanon or west to Treeon. They were heading east.’
‘Good work, lads.’ Nell went to the side of the road. ‘Mind your horses. I’m off.’
‘Wait.’ Clay held up his hand. ‘What do you want us to do?’
‘Back to Treeon. Let me know if Makee makes a move.’
‘But…’
‘Thank you.’ Nell dropped to one knee and sprang, shooting into the air. The horses spun in circles when the warp of energy smacked them. Shane