Strange Attractors - Kim Falconer [169]
And you didn’t know you’d tripped over this lot? There are temple witches among them. I bet they’d love to get their first look at a live Lupin—or a dead one, for that matter.
Teg licked his lips. How’s the glamour coming?
I’ve got you covered, Teg. They are here. Silence.
He felt the ground vibrate. Horses trotted by, the cowled riders looking left and right, some looking right at him before riding on. He allowed a small sigh. Archers followed, and the lad on the dappled grey mare.
Mind this one, Rosette. He spotted me in the first place. He’s got some eyes.
He felt another layer of the glamour waft over him, like a blanket draping about his shoulders on a winter night. The archers disappeared, leaving only hoof prints and scattered leaves behind. He felt the glamour lift.
Thank you, Rosette.
My pleasure, sweetheart. May I suggest you give me a hand?
Where are you going?
To Dumarka. I want to get there before they do.
We need more than the two of us to defend the temple.
If Kreshkali is doing what I think she is, we won’t. Can you bespeak her?
I will. And you?
I’m going north, picking up Drayco and the bards. Meet you in the Dumarkian Woods?
Meet you there, if the mistress consents! He turned north, crossing the road and heading west, tuning his mind towards Kreshkali. No answer.
And, Teg. Rosette’s voice sounded distant. Stay off the road. Stay out of sight.
Aye. Thanks. I thought that was what I’d been doing.
He thought he had stayed off the road and out of sight. But the lad on the grey mare came to mind, giving him a tingling sensation in his spine. Interesting. He ran on, keeping north, keeping alert. A few leagues off the main road he stopped at a creek and drank his fill. He sat on the bank, watching the water float by.
Mistress? Are you about?
He sent his thoughts out to Kreshkali, wondering if she was near enough to hear him but keeping his mind shield up in case the Corsanon temple priestesses were close by too.
Where are you, Teg?
He stood, his tail waving back and forth of its own accord. I’m north of the main road. He sniffed the air. Not far from the sea. A creek, a stand of eucalypts, scattered oaks. He shook his head. Way too many flies.
Show me.
He opened his eyes wide, taking in the river and the pastures beyond the gum trees lining the waterway, thinning into small scatterings of oak and laurel; rolling fields spread out before him and windswept cypresses leading to the sea.
I’ve got you. Sit tight.
He crouched to the ground, his front paws in the stream. He drank again, his tail sweeping the leaves from side to side.
Rosette heard the whistle before she spotted the lads. She smiled. At least the high end of her hearing was coming back. The shrill notes from Shane’s instrument flew up to meet her, an eerie melody with the lower notes missing—like the sound of a tiny bird calling. Clay was sitting on a stump, playing his guitar. She couldn’t hear the chords or the sound of his voice; only the flute and the rush of the wind registered.
Maudi? Drayco was on his feet, sniffing the air.
Shane stopped playing and scanned the sky. ‘Dear heart.’ He held out his arm, giving her clear landing.
I’m coming. She stalled overhead, dropped to his wrist and morphed to the ground. Drayco jumped up, his paws on her shoulders. She tussled with him, gripping his neck. ‘I wasn’t gone long, lovely.’
Both lads were talking at once. She couldn’t understand either of them. She held up her hand for silence and motioned them to sit. Raking the ground in front of them, she drew a map with her finger, pointing out the groups of Corsanon warriors and those from Temple Los Loma, and the Lupins and An’ Lawrence’s riders as well.
‘Crap, Rosette,’ Clay said slowly. There was no mistaking his words.
Again they talked at once, gesturing to her, to the map and into the distance.
‘I’m sure all your ideas are grand, but I’ve got to get to Temple Dumarka. I’ve got to catch up with Kreshkali. I’m not certain what she’s planning, but Corsanon has it in their mind that the temple cats