Strange Attractors - Kim Falconer [18]
‘Round the worlds, worlds round. Found the entrance, entrance bound. Who shall pass, pass not with guile. Who shall try, shall only fail…’ She never heard the rest of the evocation as Rall would mumble it to herself. But when Shaea opened her eyes, the little rent in the ground was gone and before her was a crevice, an opening that led into a cave. With a deep breath she stepped forward, the tendrils of purple light dancing out to touch her arm. It stopped her sharply, a searing pain.
Not so fast, Shaea of Corsanon. Bring me the witch Rall. I must see her before I can let you through.
‘Rall? You want me to bring you Rall? But she’s…’ Shaea’s words were cut short and she was thrown backward, smacking her tailbone hard on the ground. The crevice had vanished and so had her shovel. Mud seeped over the pothole without a sound.
She rubbed her backside. ‘You want Rall that bad, do you? Just don’t go away. I’ll fetch her, though how I’m going to get that old witch out of the city is more than I can think of.’ Shaea studied the pothole. ‘Any suggestions?’ When there was no reply, she let out an oath and kicked the ground.
She huffed. It was a good hour’s climb to the top where the huge tunnel drains led back into the city. In wet weather they ran full, the effluence plummeting down to the quarry slues that seeped out into the fields. Fortunately, it was the dry season, more or less, and the way clear. She headed south, preparing to climb the ancient quarry stairs—a safer path than the cliff face, but less direct. On her way up the broken steps, she pondered what to say to Rall. How would she convince the old woman to come, and what would she say when she returned without the witch’s shovel? She’d borrowed it this morning with the idea of digging for wild yams at the edge of the Corsanon Fields. That was before she felt the burning pain, before her brother had died. Darkness swept over her face. What would she say when she returned without Xane?
CHAPTER 4
TEMPLE LOS LOMA & BORDERLANDS, EARTH & CORSANON, GAELA
Grayson folded his sketches and tucked them back into his notebook. He’d been staring at them for so long the images were starting to jump off the page. They were unusual animals, arranged in a stylised totem that Rosette had described some time ago. It was her idea for a new work, one that she would receive when she finished her apprenticeship. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. A while back?
It was almost a year ago now. They were at Treeon Temple, sitting in the apple orchard, finding shade from the summer sun. She’d told him about a dream she’d had and the animals that featured in it. They hadn’t had time to discuss it further. He hadn’t even shown her the sketches. When they last talked, the topic was on other concerns—mainly his desire to pull back from their ‘relationship’. He clicked his tongue. It was hardly a relationship by his standards. Gaelean witches had different ways.
A knock on the door brought his head up.
‘Enter.’ He reached for a pen.
‘Am I disturbing you?’ Hotha stood in the doorway, Fynn squeezing past.
The young dog made to jump up but Grayson held out the flat of his hand. ‘Sit, lad. I’m working.’ Grayson closed his notebook and scratched Fynn behind his ear. He turned to Hotha. ‘Just finishing up for the morning.’
‘You’re usually so busy I have to wait in line to catch you,’ the Lupin said, his voice light.
He might as well have been talking about the weather but Grayson knew he had something more on his mind. ‘Someone’s coming in after lunch but I’m free now.’
Hotha pulled out a chair and sat, resting the side of his head on the palm of his hand. ‘I’m gathering news,’ he said. ‘And it’s not shaping up into what I’d anticipated.’
Grayson waited for him to go on.
‘I