The Spell of Rosette - Kim Falconer [121]
Rosette jumped at the voice and tightened her mind-shield.
Kreshkali pushed back her hood, running her fingers through her spiky, pale hair. Rosette thought she looked tired, or maybe distressed.
‘Here’s the deal: I’m High Priestess here—and “here” means you’re in the tombs of Los Loma. Welcome to my realm.’
Rosette bowed her head briefly. ‘And I am Rosette de Santo of Treeon Temple, apprentice to Sword Master An’ Lawrence.’
‘So he has finally made you apprentice. Took him long enough.’
‘Pardon?’
‘My Lupins tell me he may have little left to teach you.’
Rosette didn’t flinch. Her mind-shield was secure and she didn’t let the implication rattle her.
‘Why was I brought here?’ she asked.
Kreshkali grinned and sat down. She folded her hands on the table and tapped her thumbs together. ‘Several reasons. Firstly, I wanted to test the Lupins’ mind strength against you lot.’
‘Not much of a match, was it?’ Rosette said, interrupting.
‘It wasn’t. You think you learned adequate mind-shielding at the temple, but clearly it failed both you and An’ Lawrence, so you’re not ready for much as far as I’m concerned. I’d need to see improvement there.’
‘You make it sound like it was my test.’
‘Do I?’
Rosette straightened her shoulders. ‘So we’ve established that your Lupins can penetrate my mind-shield.’ Her thoughts were working fast, shuffling through myriad possibilities, looking for the most likely reason Kreshkali sat before her now. ‘What else have we learned?’
She wasn’t feeling subordinate to the High Priestess of Los Loma, regardless of her station. A warm glow flowed through her, offering confidence and strength.
Kreshkali lifted one eyebrow. ‘There’s the business of Passillo.’ She reached into her pocket and held a vial up to the light before placing it on the table. ‘I understand that you were the last to wear this.’
She pointed a long, black-enamelled fingernail at Rosette’s face. ‘Do you know where the Spell of Passillo is?’
‘No idea.’
‘Are you certain?’
‘I used to wear the vial around my neck—a gift to my mother, passed on to me—but it’s been empty all my life. I can’t tell you anything else.’
Kreshkali touched a finger to her lips. ‘Well, doesn’t that leave us in a conundrum…’
Rosette resisted the urge to bolt. There was something so alien—so un-Gaelean—about Kreshkali that even her scent made her nervous. She took a deep breath and let it out. ‘A conundrum?’ she asked.
‘A dilemma…a pickle.’
‘I understand the term,’ Rosette snapped back.
‘If you don’t know anything about the Spell and La Makee still searches…’ Kreshkali groaned. ‘Then there’s too much to do and not enough time.’
Rosette’s mind was in a whirl. The witch talked in riddles. One moment her eyes glared and she looked fit for murder, another and there was something else—something soft and almost intimate in her gaze.
‘I assure you, I do not know where Passillo is,’ Rosette continued, filling in the silence. ‘Perhaps it really has been lost.’
‘Lost?’ The High Priestess laughed. ‘It can never be lost, never be unmade. It has to be awakened; it has to be used!’
Kreshkali looked at Rosette anew, her eyes losing their intensity and filling with a kind of wonder. ‘Who gave that vial to your mother?’
Rosette flooded her aura with a self-assurance she didn’t actually feel, hiding the inner turmoil that wiggled in her guts. She had a very good idea of where that spell had gone and she didn’t like the notion one little bit. More issues to take up with Nell, when she saw her again.
‘Can you answer me?’ Kreshkali asked. ‘Do you know?’
Rosette lifted her eyes and locked them onto the other woman. ‘It was never discussed.’
‘All right then, I am going to make you an offer.’ Kreshkali spoke softly, sipping from an ornate cup.
‘What offer?’
‘You tell me what you are concealing, and I’ll let you return to the surface.’
‘Let me? I thought I was invited.’
‘You were. And now I’m inviting you to tell me everything you know.’
‘I’ve told you all I remember,’ she lied.
‘Have you?’ Kreshkali pushed her chair back, reaching