The Spell of Rosette - Kim Falconer [47]
‘Apprentice?’ he asked without slowing down. He dodged down a series of side walkways, glancing to see if she and Drayco followed.
‘Initiate,’ she answered. ‘We’ve just arrived.’
‘No kidding,’ he said, turning his head again to smile.
‘Huh?’
‘A woman like you, I would remember.’
She laughed, relaxing her shoulders as she rushed along. Her breath came easily now. It felt good to run, especially without her pack. ‘And why’s that?’
‘Because,’ he said, keeping his eye forward, ‘you’re beautiful…in a raven-like way.’
‘Raven?’ She sputtered out another laugh. ‘How so?’
‘The black hair, of course, and the nose.’
‘The nose?’
‘Raven for sure. Very distinct.’
Rosette reached up and felt her nose as if considering its shape for the first time. She shook her head, following him along the twisting pathways, wondering who he really was. His plain robe and the name he gave her offered no clue as to rank, and his manner didn’t help either. It was too contradictory. The commanding grace said one thing, his jesting speech and boyish mannerisms said another.
Trickster, do you think, Dray?
Maybe…
When she spotted the hilt of his sword as his robe wafted back, she sucked in her breath. It was ancient and elaborately designed, clearly not owned by a lowranking journeyman.
‘Do you train with the Sword Master?’ she asked in a rush.
‘You could say that.’ He lengthened his stride to a full run.
She worked hard to keep up, Drayco loping at her side.
He ducked down a narrow side path hedged by late-blooming camellias. The red and pink blossoms against the shiny green leaves filled her vision with a thrill of colour. She sped up, matching his pace stride for stride.
‘That’s why I’m here,’ she said between breaths.
‘Pardon?’
‘The Sword Master. I’m here to train with him.’
‘Does he know?’
‘Not yet.’
‘You’re ambitious.’
‘So they tell me.’
He touched her hand, tilting his head to the left.
‘This way,’ he said, leaping forward to ascend a long flight of stairs.
How they would get to the training grounds ahead of the crowd, even at this pace, she had no idea. From what she remembered of her elevated view of Treeon, the demonstration grounds were straight uphill, and a fair way off. Still she climbed, forcing her legs with no thought of slowing down. They turned a bend, dashed up a second set of narrow stairs and then came to a sudden stop.
‘Whoa,’ Rosette gasped, putting her hand down to her side to stop Drayco’s momentum. Her eyes widened.
They stood side by side, chests rising and falling in rhythm, looking at the horse in front of them. Obsidian black, with a mane that hung in braids down to his knees, the animal turned his head towards them and trumpeted, blasting a throaty challenge. When they didn’t respond immediately, he pawed the cobblestones with alternating forelegs, setting sparks flying with each strike of his iron-shod hooves.
Rowan motioned for them to wait. ‘Don’t be cross,’ he said, stepping up to take the lead rope from around the massive neck. Bringing the horse forward a few steps, he came to a halt right in front of Rosette and Drayco.
‘This is Diablai,’ Rowan announced as the horse fluttered his nostrils at Drayco and let out soft whickers. The fur around the top of the temple cat’s head parted in the gusts of air. ‘I think he will consent to carry us both bareback.’
He’s been to Dumarka. Drayco seemed surprised. He knows my kind.
He’s been to Dumarka? Are you sure?
I am sure.
‘You’re talking to him?’ Rosette said. ‘He understands you?’
He hears all of us.
‘Yes, he does,’ Rowan answered, thinking Rosette’s words were directed towards him. ‘Sometimes he knows what I’m going to say before I even think it.’
‘I know what you mean,’ she whispered.
Rosette marvelled at the animal. He was tall—about seventeen hands, she guessed. His neck arched as he looked at her straight on, his huge brown eyes gazing through a long and dense forelock that covered most of his face. His nostrils flared as he took