Strange Attractors - Kim Falconer [55]
‘You do. I’m Grayson Nath.’ He returned the handshake. ‘We met not long ago, in the Parklands. Canie introduced us.’
‘Canie?’ Everett shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. I haven’t been to the Parklands in many years. You got my name right, though. I’m Everett Kelly. Must be some other explanation.’
‘Must be. But if you don’t remember me, then I think I am quite lost.’
Kreshkali rode at the gallop, the glow of the flaming city lighting her way. Jarrod was beside her on the tall palomino gelding, matching her mare stride for stride. They were on the quarry road, the jagged stairs looming in front of them.
‘Some path you picked,’ Jarrod said when they came to a halt under the steps. He twisted his neck to view the top of the quarry wall. ‘I have a bad feeling about this place.’
Kreshkali stared at him. ‘You don’t get bad feelings.’
‘I do about this.’
The stairs were broken, chipped away by runoff, deep gutters turning to ravines on either side.
‘I thought it would be in better repair,’ Kali said.
‘The horses won’t make it.’
‘I see that.’
‘Turn them loose, or tie them until we get back?’
‘We’ll have to let them go. There’s no telling how long this will take now.’
He shook his head. ‘Too many variables to round it down.’
They dismounted and untacked the horses, leaving the saddles on the ground and the bridles hanging on a nearby branch.
‘This will be a little puzzle for the Corsanons, I imagine.’ Kreshkali smiled as she released the mare. The palomino had bolted the moment Jarrod slipped off his headstall, but the mare lingered, whickering as she stroked her neck. When the Three Sisters swooped in, the mare’s head went up and she trotted down the path, following the other horse.
‘Where is the rain?’ Kreshkali stared at the sky.
‘Teg may not be up to the task,’ Jarrod said, pointing at the glowing orange city above them. The stars were fading behind plumes of smoke. ‘No sign of a storm.’
Teg? Kreshkali called to her apprentice. Had he fallen back asleep?
I’m here.
How are we coming with the rain?
I got distracted. There’s this young witch…
Teg!
She has the strangest eyes. Reminds me of…
Teg, forget the girl. We need rain. Work with me.
Kreshkali kept her mind linked to Teg’s as she and Jarrod climbed the ruined stairs. All she allowed herself to think about was rain. She imagined the wind blowing, her sleeves saturating, droplets moistening her eyelashes and beading in her hair. She smelled the earth release its rich fragrance of soil, roots and grass in response to the rain, the sound of patters hitting the dry stones, forming pools and rushing to the road below. The higher she climbed, the harder the rain fell in her mind until she reached the top and looked skyward again. Clouds had gathered overhead and the first drops of rain, big as plums, splattered the back of her hand.
Nice rain pray, Teg. Well done. You have it there?
Coming down in buckets, Mistress.
How’s your head?
Better.
And that girl? What were you going to tell me about her?
She’s got some strange magic. Something you need to see.
Keep her close.
Can’t. She’s gone.
Where to?
Same way you and Jarrod went.
Follow her.
Shaea ran down the road as the storm gathered. There hadn’t been a single wisp of cloud obscuring the stars moments before and she suspected sorcery. She also suspected it had something to do with the trouble Rall was in. She frowned, looking up at the clouds. Rall had told her how weather could alter with a single thought, though she’d doubted it at the time. Otherwise, why would winters be so cool and summers parched? Why frostbite and floods and icy winds? Living on the streets kept her apprised of the climate, day and night. If she had known how to control the weather, she would have made it forever spring. Wouldn’t everyone?
Shaea stumbled to the ground, tripped up in her long skirts. She hadn’t kept her beautiful dress clean for long. Would she be sucked back into her gutter life, this moment of