The Spell of Rosette - Kim Falconer [86]
‘Drop by the smithy’s on your way home. He has a new sword for you.’
She nodded and continued down the path, a smile lighting up her face.
Rosette heard the click of iron-shod hooves on the stone breezeway and the occasional blow and snort from deep mangers. The stables were just around the corner—almost there. She’d felt her way along in the dark, the thick fog obscuring her lantern, creating only a blinding glare around her feet and hands.
Rosette whistled like a magpie to warn of her coming. The mountain horses were calm and sensible, but she didn’t want to get off to a bad start by spooking them. There would be enough adjustment with the familiars so close at hand.
I wait with Scylla at the gates.
‘We won’t be too long, lovely.’
She frowned. Here she was, about to go off into the Prieta Mountains with the Sword Master, and no-one cared to tell her why. If that wasn’t unsettling enough, her farewell to Clay had been doubly strange. Something was definitely not right between them, though there was no time to work it out now. He had shared her bed last night, but they’d only kissed each other goodnight and fallen asleep. He was gone when she awoke.
Rosette tried to hurry, feeling for the smooth fence railing with one hand and holding the lantern out in front of her with the other. Her heavy backpack jostled and bumped with every step. She squinted as she rounded a corner of the stable, shadows jumping up and down in the wake of the lamplight.
An’ Lawrence had the stout mountain horses saddled, their packs stowed and water-skins filled. He was bent over the taller one’s foreleg, feeling down the length of the cannon bone.
‘Everything all right?’ she asked, puffs of steam forming with each breath.
‘Yes,’ he said without looking up. ‘Just making sure there’s no swelling. They have already come a long way.’
Rosette frowned at the beast, looking it up and down. She pushed her hand through its dark coat, running it against the grain. Her fingers disappeared completely in the thick shag.
‘They’ve got full winter coats already?’ she asked. ‘Where are they from?’
‘North,’ he replied, straightening his back. ‘Far north.’ He turned, searching her face. ‘Are you ready, Rosette?’
‘As ready as one can be if one has no idea where one is headed.’
He looked past her, ignoring the sarcasm.
Rosette’s eye went to the thick roll of furs strapped behind each saddle. ‘Are we going to the northern crossing?’ She didn’t mean to sound anxious, but there it was.
He nodded and tossed her a hooded sheepskin cloak that would cover her from head to toe.
Rosette caught the heavy garment and pulled it on over her coat. She was grateful. An’ Lawrence had told her to bring only a few necessities, and she was certain she would be cold, especially at night. The warmth of the new garment gave her hope. She unpacked her gear, distributing the items into the saddlebags, and adjusted her sword.
The finely wrought blade that An’ Lawrence had commissioned for her was in the fashion of the old swordsmiths of Timbali. They used clay on the core for tempering, causing them to curve—single-sided and razor-sharp. It sat at her waist, supported by a belt of broad black cloth, double-stitched like a quilt. Its presence reminded her that the mission was deadly serious.
Looking up, she caught An’ Lawrence staring. ‘I’m ready,’ she said.
‘Let’s do it.’ He turned his horse around and led it towards the top of the path. ‘Check your girth,’ he added.
Mounting up, Rosette sent a mental note to Drayco that they were on their way and followed the Sword Master out into the pre-dawn.
CHAPTER 11
Jarrod paced back and forth, making a narrow path in the snow. His hands were blue, his fingertips numb, yet he had the distinct sensation they were burning. He shoved them into the fur-lined pockets. What was taking Nell so long?
She’d sent him out to the shed to tack up the horses while she remained inside with Maka’ra. They’d been talking in hushed voices since well before dawn. The horses were saddled