The Spell of Rosette - Kim Falconer [168]
Kreshkali held up her hand. ‘It takes as long as it does,’ she replied. ‘Don’t get me dwelling on it too!’
Annadusa cleared her throat. ‘Can you show me that Draconic horary chart? I’d like to see exactly how you found me.’
Kreshkali brightened. ‘It’s from a very old Lilly text. What I had to do to get it…’
Annadusa offered a quizzical look.
‘Never mind. Look at this.’ She flipped open the text. It smelled of must and leaf, like mouldy hay. She brushed away the blue powder and smiled.
‘The key to horary astrology, no matter what zodiac you’re using, is clearly identifying the rulerships associated with the question.’
The women studied the chart in detail, going over the angular aspects, checking the ephemeris for the approaching contacts of the Moon and the Arabic Part of Fortune’s relationship to the Sun. The candles hadn’t burned much lower before they heard a tap on the door.
‘Enter.’
Clay stuck his head in, his tangles of red hair obscuring his face. ‘They’re coming!’ he said. ‘He’s back.’
‘Followed?’
‘Zero is checking, but I don’t think so.’
The women were on their feet as the door swung wide. An’ Lawrence came through first, followed by Drayco and Scylla who leapt around Jarrod.
Kreshkali pulled out a chair, hugging him tight before sitting him down. ‘We were having some concerns,’ she whispered into his ear.
‘I know.’ He kissed her cheeks. ‘Me too.’
‘Hungry?’ Rosette asked, her face animated for the first time since her arrival. She brought plates and cups to the table.
‘Starving!’
‘I made enough pasta to feed an army,’ she said.
Jarrod looked at them all in turn. ‘That’s exactly what we’re going to need—an army.’
‘What do you mean, he’s tattooing DNA?’ An’ Lawrence asked.
‘I mean just that.’ Jarrod picked up the last piece of bread and wiped his plate with it. He popped the crust into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully before washing it down with mulled wine brought over from Morzone.
‘Explain it again?’
He wiped his mouth. ‘You know that the work on skin, tattooing body art of any kind, has been banned by the Allied States. They cut them off if they find them.’
Rosette rubbed her left arm where the temple cat stood guard. ‘They’d have to come through my sword first…’
Jarrod leaned over and kissed her neck. ‘Most people on Earth don’t have your sword skills, love.’
‘Why stop tattooing? What possible good does it serve?’ Clay asked.
‘The tattoo ban is another means of control, another way of disconnecting people from their clans, their totems, their living myths and their sense of purpose,’ Kreshkali said.
‘Grayson’s gone round it, though. Right under their totalitarian noses.’
‘How?’
Everyone leaned towards Jarrod, waiting for his response.
‘He gets a shipment of blood once a month, for research purposes. Some of the samples are taken from those in the Resistance.’
‘There’s a Resistance?’ Kreshkali asked, her eyes widening.
‘Other than our coven here? Yes! It’s small and comprised mostly of good intentions. They lack training, but they don’t lack spirit.’
‘And they smuggle their blood into ASSIST?’ she asked, urging him to continue.
‘They do. Grayson uses an electron microscope—the only one still functioning in the Allied States—and inserts codes for dermal images in the DNA. The serum is packed into injection units and smuggled back out.’
‘But it’s too late, then,’ Kreshkali said, her brows knitted. ‘It wouldn’t appear on their skin even if the altered DNA is picked up.’
‘You’re right. It doesn’t appear on them, but it is passed onto their children, and their children’s children. He’s been doing it for decades now. New totems are already starting to run in family lines, and because they’re present from birth and on the certificates, no-one’s being charged. And they aren’t being removed. Families are able to identify each other, even if the Allied States separate them. People are getting back a sense of meaning and connection to their inner powers.’
Kreshkali whistled. ‘Interesting concept. The parents choose the tattoo?’
‘The DNA chooses,’ Jarrod said, ‘from an