The Spell of Rosette - Kim Falconer [151]
Drayco?
Right here.
You okay?
Grand. I like it here. Warm, dry, good nap, good smells. He purred from the shady palm trees behind her, where he sat sculpture-like, eyes unblinking. We need water, though.
‘Good idea. I’m parched.’
And sunburnt.
‘Have you seen the horses?’
They headed east—looking for water too—but I think that’s the long way around.
‘The long way around what?’ Rosette turned over on her belly to look at him.
Around the island.
‘The horses made it? Did you see Wren?’ Jarrod mumbled, awakened by the conversation, not quite grasping the words from Drayco’s mind.
‘Dray says they’ve gone to look for water,’ Rosette replied, sitting up and brushing sand from her arms. ‘The wrong way round.’
Jarrod stood and stretched, peeling off his coat and shirt. ‘Wrong way around what?’
She smiled. ‘The island.’ Rosette pulled off her layers of clothes as well until she was down to a black cotton undershirt and leggings. She laid her things on rocks above the high-tide line to dry and turned to scan the horizon. Waves rolled in, quite gently now, in rows of foamy turquoise and white.
‘Jarrod? This is strange.’
He was staring out to sea. ‘I know.’ He put his arm around her as she came to his side.
‘Something’s not right,’ she said. ‘The colour…’
He didn’t take his eyes off the ocean. ‘I’ve never crossed the straits before, but…’ He pulled her close. ‘There’s nothing like this on the maps. The water is positively turquoise, and this island is mountainous. Huge.’ He tilted his head until his nose pointed straight up and still he had to crane his neck to see the tips of the peaks. ‘All the islands beyond the Emerald Straits are sand-spits, not even a foot above sea level.’
‘And the water’s green, not this shade of blue.’
‘Where do you think we are?’ Jarrod asked.
‘It must be the Isles of Landercan, but I’ve no idea which one. Do you think it’s inhabited?’
‘I don’t see any signs. Ask Drayco.’
I’ve found drinking water. Drayco sent the message from a distance away. No other people or felines, but you’ll like the spot. It’s nice.
We’re coming, Dray. Exactly where is this ‘nice spot’ of yours?
East. The horses had it right.
How so?
They’ve already been.
The Sword Master awoke on a cold stone floor. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to remember where he was and how he could have gotten here. Zero was sitting beside him, his head between his knees. They were in a dank, noisome tunnel, dark save for a small lantern perched on a box and a faint purple glow emanating from the wall. His head spun and he felt like he would be sick.
Are you here, Scylla?
She answered by pressing the top of her head into his face. She’s brought us to another world, Rowan. Not a fun trip.
‘What?’
Your Nell. She’s brought us to her home, and it’s not Dumarka.
‘How can you be certain?’
It doesn’t smell like anything in Gaela.
An’ Lawrence got to his feet, hand on his sword hilt. Next to him, Zero struggled to stand.
‘You all right?’ he asked, helping Zero up.
‘I think so. Just tell me where we are, and who that is.’ Zero nodded to the woman stepping into the light.
An’ Lawrence narrowed his eyes as she moved closer. She had spiky hair, a long cloak and was sorting through the things that they had brought to the portal in Gaela.
‘Where’s Nell?’ An’ Lawrence gripped Scylla’s scruff, but his familiar seemed unconcerned by the stranger.
She’s not the problem, Rowan.
Are you sure?
Oh yes.
‘Nell had other business,’ the woman said, ‘but I suspect she’ll be back soon.’
‘And who are you?’ Zero asked.
‘I’m Kreshkali. Though that’s not the most important question you could