The Spell of Rosette - Kim Falconer [49]
‘You have a wonderful horse.’
‘Thank you, my lady.’ He smiled down at her. ‘Actually, he’s the Sword Master’s.’
Rosette’s eyebrows went up.
‘Go on,’ Rowan prompted, giving her a wink. ‘Find a good place, right up front.’
She followed his gesture then turned back only to see him galloping away. ‘Thank you…’ she called out.
Too late. Horse and rider were gone.
She looked over at the crowd. ‘Ready to get amongst them, my lovely?’
Ready, Drayco purred. She’s near.
‘Who’s near?’
The one like me.
‘Maybe you’ll meet her soon.’
Not yet. She’s hiding.
He pressed his head briefly into Rosette’s hand and led the way into the crowd. A path parted before them as they moved towards the stage, dead centre, front row. Rosette looked straight up into the faces on the raised platform. She guessed immediately which one the High Priestess was.
Even though Rosette had never met La Makee, she had heard her described many times. She was easy to spot. The red hair gave her away, and the fact that everyone around her was listening intently, responding to her directions with nods and gestures. She was definitely in command. Red hair, short stature, huge energy. Huge? The woman was luminous. And her hair wasn’t just red. It burned like fire, falling in tresses to her waist. Several large azurite stones were draped at her neck, secured with a double chain of silver. They glinted in the sunlight while she paced back and forth, stopping now and then to speak with the others. A sword swung at her side, the hilt inlaid with silver and bluestone. Rosette took a quick look at her own lapis bangles. They were of similar design.
That’s interesting.
What, Maudi?
Just noticing La Makee’s sword hilt.
You would. Drayco sent a playful purr with his thoughts.
As the High Priestess strode about the stage her silk robe blew open, revealing black leather trousers and a finely quilted vest. Embroidered on the edges of her robe were entwining green serpents, and on the back a soaring golden falcon. Her hands lifted gracefully above her head, slipping on a band to secure her hair away from her face. They were tattooed, somewhat like Nell’s.
La Makee stopped suddenly and stood like a warrior—legs apart, arms crossed under her breasts. She eyed the crowd as if they were new troops. The High Priestess of Treeon Temple wasn’t very tall, five or six inches shorter than Rosette, but what she lacked in height she made up for in sheer potency. La Makee exuded power and command, her toned muscles well defined, each movement agile and precise.
Her face seemed timeless, ancient and full of youth all at once. She had to be over fifty years old, but her birth data—like many of those in high rank—was kept secret. Nell said she was born under the sign of the Archer: adventurous, philosophical and free. Looking at her on stage, Rosette didn’t doubt it. La Makee beamed with fortitude and conviction, and something else. Something regal. She guessed the sign of the Lion was on the eastern horizon when this woman entered the world.
‘She’ll not let you off with the slightest imprecision or flaw,’ Nell had warned. ‘She knows true from false at the glance of an eye. Be honest in what you say to her, though know you may not always want to say too much.’
She knew Nell and La Makee had a history. They hadn’t seen each other or communicated for decades, until the letter Nell wrote applying for Rosette’s entry to Treeon. Rosette had asked what lay between them, but her mentor seemed reluctant to speak of it, and Rosette hadn’t pressed. Now that she was here, she wished she had.
As La Makee clapped her hands several others joined her, though they stood further back. Rosette was startled to see two men leap up onto the platform belatedly. They shed their black robes, one tightening his sword belt and striding forward to stand beside La Makee. He towered above her, powerfully built, serpent tattoos entwining his forearms, shaved head revealing a striking face. The other, a slightly shorter man with spiky hair, followed quickly