Strange Attractors - Kim Falconer [92]
He hobbled to the door and locked it. ‘Time to take one, don’t you think? We could search for years and not find what we’re after.’
‘But a calling?’ She looked pale. ‘Just the two of us?’
‘Three,’ he said, tilting his head towards Scylla. ‘If it’s going to work, three is enough. If it doesn’t work, only three are lost.’
Kreshkali closed her eyes.
‘Hotha and Grayson can take over, with Zero and Annadusa,’ he added. ‘We aren’t irreplaceable. But Jarrod is.’
She stood, pushing back her chair. ‘Power down the computers. We better do this before I lose my nerve.’
Scylla emerged from under the table, stretching. She sat, looking up at An’ Lawrence. Rowan, are you sure a calling spell is wise?
We need the notes, Scylla. We need them now.
But if the spell doesn’t bring the notes to us, it will…
I know. It will send us to them.
All fine if they are on a bookshelf in a cosy room upstairs, but, Rowan, if they don’t exist, you realise we go there too.
I do. ‘They have to exist. I stake my life on it.’
‘And ours.’ Kreshkali pushed aside the chairs and tables until the centre of the library was clear, a circular space beneath the high-domed ceiling. The sun was at the zenith, turning the carpet into colourful patterns as light filtered through the stained glass. She lit candles and looked around, satisfied with the preparations.
‘Pyramid?’ An’ Lawrence asked.
They took up the positions of north, southeast and southwest, Kali at the top of the pyramid, Scylla and the Sword Master forming the base. They focused on the empty centre and began to weave the spell. Clouds obscured the sun and the room turned dark, the candles flickering though there was no breeze.
Teg opened his eyes when the coach rolled to a stop. ‘I didn’t expect to see those here.’ He pointed at the tall white statues guarding the gates of Corsanon—temple cats carved out of marble. ‘A perfect likeness, don’t you think?’
Rosette studied the twin cats. ‘The ties between Corsanon and Dumarka must be strong.’
‘Gifts?’ Teg asked.
‘I don’t know.’ She capped her waterskin. ‘They aren’t in the histories.’
The driver jumped down to help them out.
‘Your pregnancy is quite an asset,’ Teg whispered. ‘I never remember being treated so well.’ He winked. ‘Or maybe it comes with having such a beautiful travelling companion?’
She laughed. ‘It’s not always like this, I promise.’
Are you remembering our first coach ride to Treeon, Maudi?
‘I am.’
‘Run into some trouble there?’ Teg asked.
You could say that. The temple cat yawned, flashing his teeth.
Teg roughed his neck. It was a pleasure when Rosette’s familiar spoke to him directly, or even let him share in their conversations. He missed the intimacy of multiple mind-to-mind communication—one of the most rewarding aspects of being Lupin born and raised. Rosette and Drayco filled a void and he was grateful.
I miss it too, sometimes.
He frowned, looking at the temple cat.
‘What do you miss, my lovely?’ Rosette asked. She stepped down from the carriage.
More minds.
Rosette opened her mouth to reply but instead she stammered, clutching Teg’s arm.
‘What is it?’ He held her up, searching her face. ‘Is it the baby? Rosette! What’s happening?’
‘Not the baby.’ She shook her head, her cheeks burning, her eyes wide. Her hair was wafting about her face though there was no breeze anywhere else. ‘Something’s got me.’ She was choking, as if an invisible riptide pulled her under.
The guard approached wearing an amiable smile, asking their destination. When he caught sight of Rosette—her arms flailing, gasping for breath, a now wild wind blowing past her face—his hand went to his sword. Teg gripped her tight, feeling the storm. He braced his legs. Rosette drew her sword.
What are you doing, Rosette? Don’t challenge them.
Someone’s spelling me! she shouted in his head. Beware! Drayco, to me!
Drayco’s hackles were spiked and he stalked forward; the coachman tripped over himself to back away. The guard stood his ground, his sword drawn, ordering them against the wall. Teg