Strange Attractors - Kim Falconer [88]
Leaning out the window, face to the breeze, was a magnificent black temple cat. He’d never seen one before, not this close up nor even in a book, but he knew what it was—a temple cat from the Dumarkian Woods. A witch’s familiar. His stomach did a somersault and the creature’s orange eyes penetrated his own. The coach rolled past and he glimpsed two others seated beside the feline—a young man and a beautiful pregnant woman.
Xane’s heart galloped. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. His pulse raced and he felt like part of him was trying to crawl out of his skin. The mare—usually placid—reared, whinnying. By the time he had her under control the coach was gone, winding its way out of the valley, over the wooden bridge and on to Corsanon.
‘Amazing creature, that temple cat,’ he said aloud. ‘Harmless to us, though.’ He patted the mare’s neck and led her down the road, heading for the temple gates, but he turned around, again and again, to watch the coach’s progress until it disappeared over the hill.
The guard made him wait while he checked the seal on the satchel. That was expected. They were all more cautious since the battle in the Corsanon Fields and the uncanny fires. He’d heard what had happened. They talked of nothing else in the stables. Some witch on a golden warhorse had blasted the troops and when captured he and a temple High Priestess in the form of a Lemur raven had broken free, setting Corsanon on fire. Hundreds of warriors had died and the fires had spread through the city until the Corsanon priestesses had conjured the rain to put them out. But meanwhile the enemy had enchanted the death dogs and let the war witch escape, both flying away to their stronghold in the Isle of Lemur. They had to be Timbali witches with unfathomable powers. At least, that’s what the gossip said.
‘You can water the horse.’ The guard’s voice snapped him to attention. The man pointed to a shaded well. ‘And deliver the message yourself, as asked.’
Xane nodded. ‘Thank you. I won’t be long.’
He tied the mare to the hitching post and dropped the bucket into the well. It didn’t fall far before it splashed, a shimmer of light glinting before it sank. He cranked the handle and brought it up; the smell was earthy and fresh. He let the mare drink before he filled his waterskin. She was well cooled off and the water tepid—safe to let her have as much as she liked. He loosened her girth another notch and gave her a pat. ‘Rest easy. I’ll be right back.’
Again he looked over his shoulder at the road winding out of the valley. A sudden desire to catch up to the coach came over him. He wanted another look at that temple cat, and the beautiful witch. Maybe I’ll see them when I return. Nodding to the guard, he tapped the satchel on the side of his thigh and strode into the temple grounds.
An apprentice in a long blue robe pointed him to the High Priestess’s chambers. ‘Down the breezeway and to the right. The double doors will be open. If they aren’t, you wait. I’ve sent word you’re coming.’
Xane thanked her and walked away, his boots clicking on the wooden boards. He knew what kind of word she’d sent. It was a mind-to-mind message, like he could sometimes feel with Shaea. He frowned as the memory blurred. For a moment he imagined sending a mind-to-mind message to the witch with the temple cat. What would he say? Hello, beautiful witch…Where did you come from? My dreams?
His thought was interrupted as he neared the double doors. They were closed but strangely he could hear people conversing on the other side as if they were right next to him. Two women talked in hushed tones, though it sounded loud enough for the entire temple to follow.