The Spell of Rosette - Kim Falconer [175]
Rosette groaned, letting Jarrod slip out of her hands. Yes, Drayco. Please search. Please find Kreshkali. She drifted back to sleep, welcoming the oblivion.
When she awoke again, her head was bombarded with voices. They grated against her mind.
‘You’re no better than a pig-headed cave troll, Rowan!’
‘I’m not the one that needed rescuing, as I recall.’
‘I did what I had to do. You’ve no place to judge.’
‘You cut it too close.’
‘Can’t you let this go? It’s done—ASSIST is levelled and the shields are coming down. We should have the semblance of a sunrise any moment and enough time to get to the San Fran strip and salvage those panels. What the fuck’s your problem, Sword Master?’
‘The plan was for you to be out before the blast, not after. Remember?’
‘Did you consider I might have to ad-lib? I ran into some contingencies.’
‘You mean your “friend”?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘That scientist you risked everything for.’
‘You’d have me leave him there under a ton of rubble? He saved our arses.’
‘I saved our…’
‘Hey!’ Rosette shouted, keeping her eyes closed, her face alternately smiling and wincing. ‘Keep it down. Some of us are wounded.’
‘How’s the head?’ Kreshkali’s voice softened as she went to her side.
‘Feels like a pack of single-toothed demons are chewing their way through my skull.’
Kreshkali stroked her forehead and Rosette opened her eyes. ‘Hello,’ she said, smiling up at her mother.
Jarrod came with a steaming mug. ‘Drink this. It’ll knock those demons back.’
‘Will it put me to sleep again?’
‘Not this one. You hungry?’
‘A little,’ she said, taking a tentative sip. She made a sour face.
‘Drink it up. It’ll reduce the cranial oedema.’
‘Oedema?’
‘Swelling.’
Rosette looked blank.
‘Around your brain,’ Kreshkali supplied. ‘Big sips now. Good girl.’
‘You sound like Nell again.’ Rosette wrinkled her nose as she took another gulp, trying not to taste the pungent brew.
‘That’s my potion,’ Annadusa said from the table where she sat next to her son. ‘I’m a bit of a herbalist, you see.’
Rosette sucked her teeth with her tongue and screwed up her face. ‘Thank you.’ She rubbed her temples. ‘It’s helping already, I think.’
‘Polite as well as beautiful,’ Annadusa said to Grayson, squeezing his arm.
‘I’d like to make a toast.’ An’ Lawrence lifted the shade on the east window, holding up his steaming mug. A brilliant beam of yellow light shone through the cracks of brown sky, flooding into the wide room. It brought the pillows and cushions to life, highlighting the vivid colours and textures of the fabrics. It splashed across Clay’s guitar, the polished rosewood reflecting like a mirror. Rosette’s black hair shone with red highlights and Drayco’s ebony coat revealed rust-coloured tabby stripes. Everyone’s face glowed.
An’ Lawrence cleared his throat, holding their attention. ‘To the fall of ASSIST, the rise of Earth covens, and to the heart and soul of Clay Cassarillo, from the Southern Cusca Plains—journeyman bard, swordsman, lyricist, friend and lover—may he always fare well and free.’
‘To Clay,’ Rosette murmured, tears falling down her cheeks.
I don’t see why you’re so upset, Maudi. I found her! Drayco lay down by Rosette’s side.
She studied the feline, staring into his wide orange eyes. Clay died. I find that sad.
He’s on another side.
What’s that, Dray?
He’s crossed over.
Over where?
What you call death, Rosette, we call change.
‘I’ve made you a bath,’ Kreshkali said. ‘Full of fresh herbs and jasmine.’
‘I can smell them from here.’
She continued gazing at Drayco until he got up, stretched and strolled to the kitchen.
That’s all you’re going to say? Death is change.
He turned his big head back towards her and blinked. For now.
‘You’ve enough water for bathing?’ Grayson’s eyebrows went up.
‘More than enough. There’s an elaborate purification system on the bottom floor,’ Kreshkali answered. ‘We pump out one hundred thousand gallons a day now.’
‘Do you sell the water?’
‘We give it away.’
He pushed his ginger hair back from his face,