The Spell of Rosette - Kim Falconer [163]
‘I thought some of you might be ready for a trip back to your home world,’ she said, seating herself at the whalebone table with the others.
‘We are exiled,’ Rashnan said.
Murmuring agreement followed.
‘That’s true, but only for your own protection.’
Several of the pack snarled.
‘I know.’ Kreshkali held up her hand. ‘You hardly need protecting now, but in the beginning you did. You were a few litters of helpless pups and young whelps. If my foremother hadn’t smuggled you out when she did, there would be no Lupins anywhere. You’re one of a kind.’
And what, Kreshkali, would we be going back to?
Kreshkali kept her face a mask as she listened to Hotha’s words in her head. She suspected he’d shielded them from the others.
I won’t pretend it’s a pleasant place. The Earth is badly damaged.
As are we.
She sighed. Maybe there could be healing, for both.
Hotha touched her leg beneath the table. Then tell them. Tell them the truth.
‘I’m not offering you paradise,’ she spoke aloud. ‘It’s a mess there—polluted seas, martial law, witch-trackers ready to skin you alive, blocked sun, seismic activity, no clean water, constant acid rain, fear in all species, river, rock and stone…’
Tell them the truth, but don’t terrorise them, Kreshkali!
The witch smiled. ‘But we are going to change all that.’
‘We?’ the Lupin across from her asked.
‘Yes…me, my coven, some stray rebels and you, if you care to participate.’
‘We can stay in our home world then?’
‘If we win.’
‘Battle?’
Kreshkali sighed. ‘Yes, I think it will come to that.’
Nice bait.
I’m just telling the truth.
The Lupins conversed amongst themselves, their heads turning, ears shifting as the debate went on in front of her. Their mind-shields were up. She couldn’t follow a single thread until Hotha spoke to her.
Looks like you’ll have at least five clans.
Including yours?
Of course.
‘What about hunting?’ a young Lupin asked from the far end of the table.
‘Only water rats in the city, but there’re still wild boar, goats and rabbits in the surrounds.’
‘Water?’
‘That you’ll have to bring from here, until we get more purifiers set up.’
Fists thumped the table as each clan pounded their approval. Tails wagged in the background.
Seven clans, Mistress. That leaves five here, in case.
In case what?
In case we don’t survive Earth.
Kreshkali awoke stiff and sore the next morning. She stretched, looking over the wadded quilt to scan the apartment. They’d taken over the entire top floor of Annadusa’s building. There was plenty of room there for Kreshkali and her inner circle: An’ Lawrence, Zero, Clay, Rosette, Jarrod and the familiars, including the Three Sisters. The ravens preferred this top-floor abode to a winter in Gaela, content with the pampering they received from the coven, and the warmth. All agreed it best for Mozzie to stay in Dumarka, at least for now.
Kreshkali had prepared the place weeks ago, gutting the entire level save one bedroom and bath, turning it into an expansive and well-appointed hall. It had wall hangings from Los Loma, rugs from Flureon and colourful overstuffed cushions from the looms of Morzone. It hadn’t been hard to trade for the luxuries, for here or her dwellings in Los Loma and Dumarka. One thing there was plenty of on Earth, besides decomposition, was gold coin. Useless now that water was the prime commodity, she could pick gold out of the gutters or trade for it in shops, a box of water credits buying her a king’s ransom in coin.
The rest of the floors in the building were taken up by Annadusa’s lot, the rebels she’d been gathering for years—over one hundred strong. So far, not a single tracker had gotten wind of them.
She stretched again. ‘How long have I been out?’
‘A few hours,’ An’ Lawrence said. He was examining a rack of swords that she’d commandeered from Treeon. ‘How you got Makee on your side, I can’t imagine.’
‘I have my ways.’
‘I remember,’ he winked. ‘What about the rust? This environment’s ruining their edge already.’
‘Oil them.’
‘When we shut down the solar shield and let the sun shine in, it