The Spell of Rosette - Kim Falconer [112]
‘Yes, I would,’ Rosette said.
There was information to be gained here, and she was going to get it. She remembered the Sword Master’s words: Be calm, unimpressed, no panic, no frivolity. A modicum of confidence infused her. She would be just that and she’d get as much out of this meeting with the queen of the underworld as she could. All the more ammunition for her reunion with An’ Lawrence and La Makee. She wanted to strangle him, as soon as she got the chance, and she was starting to feel optimistic. This would be empowering. Without words, she felt Drayco, like soft paws making bread in her lap. Intuition was a wonderful thing. Now what would she say next?
‘You hungry?’ Kreshkali asked.
‘I am.’
‘Good. I’ll take you down where it’s more comfortable.’
Rosette stared at her.
‘Come on, girl. Follow me.’
‘Down?’ Kreshkali’s back was already turned, her boots sinking into the coarse gravel, crunching loudly with each long stride, and Rosette had to hurry to catch up. She found herself scrambling up onto one of the grunnies, feeling relieved to be seated and also a little nauseous at the peculiar rocking of the animal’s stride. The grunnie’s skin was loose and the saddle slipped from side to side, even with a snug girth. She couldn’t imagine them having a comfortable trot or gallop. Still, it was good to ride, no matter how bizarre the mount. When she turned around to see if Hotha followed, he was gone.
They tracked the edge of the lake, skirting it before descending a dimly lit ramp that spiralled in endless circles. The beasts were remarkably sure-footed. Rosette’s heartbeat steadied and her jaw relaxed until she looked over the edge of the railing. She could see a long way down, but not the bottom.
‘These grunnies don’t spook, do they?’ she asked, the saddle sliding as she turned to Kreshkali. She grabbed a fistful of the grunnie’s hair to steady herself.
‘You mean startle?’ Kreshkali shook her head. ‘Not like a horse.’
Rosette nodded, then her eyes widened. ‘Like what, then?’
‘They stampede.’
Rosette didn’t know how far down they’d gone. She only knew an ever-increasing thirst and exhaustion. Her throat was dry and her head spun. The stirrups were too long and her legs ached with the lack of support. She wanted to stop and adjust them but felt a lassitude that prevented her from taking any action.
She realised that the only way out of this underground maze would be by the grace of Maggi, god of the crossroads—she would certainly never find her way back without his blessing; either that or a detailed map. She hoped she would have one or the other when she made her way out.
‘Nearly there,’ Kreshkali said, showing no sign of fatigue.
She had paused at yet another junction where four corridors met. Each archway looked identical except for the script set into the stone. Strange lettering ran from the bottom of the arch, up across the top and down the other side. Was this the map she wanted? Too bad if it was—she couldn’t read a word of it. Her lids drooped.
‘Good to hear,’ she answered.
The next corridor was wider, more refined and nothing like the rough rock of the upper caverns. The light had increased as well, although there was a haze to everything—a kind of misty fuzz. The glow illuminated the way and Rosette wondered how much further they had to go, because if she didn’t rest soon, she was pretty certain she would tumble from this great grunnie beast and drop dead.
‘My rooms are just up ahead.’
The echoes deepened as they passed beneath a vaulted archway, and Rosette was surprised to hear the sound of rushing water, now loud, now soft. It must be hot because the mist that surrounded them was steamy—warm on her face. She slipped off her wool-lined coat, unwound her sword-belt and tied it to the pack saddle. She pulled at her neck, widening her thick sweater to let some fresh air in.
My sword! She realised that the Lupins had taken it and she hadn’t got it back. She cringed, imagining the look on the Sword Master’s face.