Strange Attractors - Kim Falconer [51]
‘To the south. We can take the quarry road.’
‘Quarry?’
‘It’s a bit of a climb. There are steps, though, all the way down.’
‘Lead on.’ With an arm around her belly, Rosette followed him through the maze of alleyways, slowing when she heard music.
‘Come, Rosette. This way. You have to keep moving.’ He waited for her to catch up.
‘Hang on.’ She cocked her head. ‘Do you hear that?’
‘I hear the sound of Corsanons marching towards us with battle-axes. Let’s go!’
‘No, it’s something else. That music. Listen.’ She pressed her ear against the brick wall. The fires were far behind, and the wall cool to the touch. Music played inside, light as a harvest festival. ‘I know that tune.’
‘It’s not from Treeon.’
‘I recognise it anyway.’
‘I’m glad you have such an eclectic ear. You can hum it to me as we escape.’ He grabbed her shoulder.
‘It’s more than that.’ She felt the colour drain from her face. ‘I know that musician.’
‘Not likely. We are way before your time, or mine.’
‘It’s Clay,’ she said. Tears formed in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.
He shook his head. ‘Clay’s dead, love. And we’re way before his time too.’ An’ Lawrence pulled her into his arms. ‘Pregnancy does strange things to the mind, Rosette. It’s okay. Come along.’
It does sound like him, Maudi, now that you mention it. It sounds like Clay.
She gave the Sword Master a quick squeeze and slipped out of the embrace. ‘I’ve got to check.’
‘The pub? No way!’
‘I’ll just be a moment.’ She looked up at the sign. It was newly painted, as were the doors. It read: ‘The Shek Inn’.
‘Rosette! You can’t. We’re nearly to the quarry road and…’
His voice faded as she pushed through the double doors, Drayco leading the way into the noisy pub.
Shane was panting when he reached the top of the stairs. The climb had been steeper than expected. How many storeys could there be? True, he hadn’t studied the rooftop when they’d approached the cabin. It was dark and he’d been much too busy fending off Halo to take in the architecture. He’d assumed it was a simple loft but now he felt like they had climbed to the top of Mount Pelt.
Odd that their hostess, May, with her generous size and weight, was not winded. She appeared before him as if awaking from a nap, not even any colour in her cheeks. Selene seemed perplexed as well, though his thoughts did not stay with that mystery for long. Perhaps it would have been better if they had. He might have grabbed Selene, turned around and run for his life. But he didn’t. He stood on the landing and May pushed open the door, waving them in.
The stench hit him before he could back away. He clapped his hand over his nose and he tried not to breathe. Lungs burning, he gulped in a breath, sickly odour and all. At first he thought there must be rat traps in the attic—definitely something dead—until his eyes adjusted to the dim light. There was no preparation for what he saw, not even in his most macabre nightmare. Bile rose and he swallowed it, listening to Selene do the same.
The attic was long, running the length of the cabin, with high-pitched rafters sloping down to the floor creating the shape of an A. But the design was not what shocked him. There were cabins in the mountains above T’locity made of similar shape. What shivered him to the bone was the content. Never before had he seen such a horrible mixture of treasures and chests—rib cages and skulls, femurs and toes, bodies decomposing among the gold and jewels.
Trunks piled high with coins and sparkling gems were thrown open, the contents spilling over the tops to form mounds of wealth on the floor. Clothes were scattered here and there—frilly dresses, military uniforms and children’s garb, some fine and new, some tattered and worn. Rifles and china cups, books and maps, kettles, forks, knives and clocks all strewn like leaves in a storm. There were signs of struggle: tables overturned, lamps knocked askew, gold and silver flung in every