Arrows of Time (27 page)

He looked at her, eyes pleading. ‘Selene, she was like that when I met her.’ He nodded to Rosette.

‘How could she have been?’ Selene snapped the words back. ‘You said you’d been trapped in that loop long enough to learn each other’s language. That is longer than it takes.’

‘Longer than what takes?’ Rosette screwed up her face. ‘What in Passillo’s bright fire are you two talking about?’

Another groundswell rolled underneath them, sending the cliff face down like a waterfall.

‘No more time,’ Jarrod shouted. ‘Into the portal.’

Rosette hesitated long enough to grab Selene’s hand and turn her around. ‘Enough! Peace now. Come with me.’ She led them all into the corridors, brushing past the plasma stream as it burst from the Entity, her
intentions focused on finding Nell. She was panting as she leaned against the smooth wall of the corridor, a quiet darkness around her. Her mind reached towards her familiar.
Drayco?

Here, Maudi.

Did we get Fynn?

He’s here too. Sleeping again.

Everyone else?

They all came in.

Rosette sighed, letting go of Selene’s hand. After a moment’s reflection, she spoke to Drayco.
Do you know what she meant by ‘longer than it takes’?

I’m not sure, Maudi. Some kind of task?

That doesn’t make sense to me at all.
She rested her hand on her familiar’s back as they whirled through the corridor streams in silence.

Nothing’s made sense for quite some time.

‘I know, but now that Jarrod’s here, it will.’ She scratched Drayco’s spine, her fingers disappearing into the plush fur. His tail rose and whipped back and forth. She leaned over him, reaching to pet the long silky fur of the pup.

Maudi?

‘Yes, my lovely?’

You’re not going to like this
…Her temple cat sat next to her, wrapping his tail around his front legs like a winter scarf.

‘What won’t I like?’

I can’t see Jarrod any more, or the others.

‘What do you mean, you can’t see them?’

There are no electrical signals running from my optic nerve to the visual cortex that indicate their presence.

‘What? They are right here. They have to be. We all ran in together. I held Selene’s hand.’ Rosette stiffened, her head scanning left and right, arms reaching out to touch her friends.

They did, and they were, Maudi, but they aren’t here now.

‘How did that happen?’

I think we’ve taken a different turn.

Rosette closed her eyes and sank to the ground as her legs collapsed beneath her. ‘Entity! Not again?’ She sat on her heels, rocking slightly in the dark as the stillness of the corridor floated around her.

Seems that way, Maudi. Must be for a reason. It’ll be all right.

Rosette didn’t move until Drayco nudged her with his nose.

We’re somewhere now, Maudi. See? We might as well have a look around. Check it out?

She got up, brushing off her cloak. ‘You’re right. We might as well, Drayco,’ she said aloud. ‘How much worse can it get?’

Teg crossed the central square of the temple grounds, nodding to a few faces he recognised, keeping the eye contact brief so they wouldn’t stop and talk. He was amazed at how chatty these people were. Almost everyone took an interest in him, even though many knew he was Lupin.
Especially because I am Lupin.
What a curious bunch. Hotha had warned him there could be fear or resentment in some of the Gaeleans, but they seemed more inquisitive than biased. It was a refreshing contrast to growing up in Los Loma, Gaela, a land steeped in prejudice against his kind. Here, so far, the only two with hard feelings were the Sword Master and his lynxy feline, Scylla. No matter how hard he trained or how polite and accomplished he was, An’ Lawrence never gave him more than perfunctory sentences or curt nods, and Scylla all but hissed when he came near.

It didn’t matter to them that he had nothing to do
with the incident on the Prieta Mountains. He wasn’t even under Los Loma, Gaela, at the time. The Sword Master didn’t seem to remember that Teg and his clan mates had battled their common enemy with him at the gates of ASSIST either. Teg had been wounded badly there. That should count for something. A redemption? Ingratiation?
Why do I feel I owe him one?

He cringed at the assumptions. There wasn’t any place for ‘should’ in his life, not now, especially not as the new apprentice to the High Priestess Kreshkali. Besides, the wound had been a blessing, the top of his ‘gratitude list’ that he recalled daily. It had left him crippled for months, the recovery slow and painful. The only way he could distract his mind from the agony and confinement was by reading. In the process, he’d fallen in love with the written word. Literature was his divine consort now, when before it had been the hunt, or the fight. He was happy to return to those activities as his body healed, though they didn’t hold the same fascination any more. He never strayed long from the written page, and there were so many books to explore. The library of Temple Los Loma held endless distraction for him. It was the last great collection of literature on Earth, and it was his job—one of his jobs—to help catalogue and preserve it. Bliss.

He paused in his reflections, catching the eye of a woman trotting down the manor steps. She adjusted her course straight for him.

Maluka.

She was wearing short leggings and a small leather vest. A sword belt fitted snugly around her hips and a large sack of apples balanced on her shoulder. His face brightened when she slowed her pace. She stopped square in front of him and flashed a smile back, shifting the weight of the apples to lean in and give him
a kiss on the cheek. Maluka was someone he didn’t mind stopping to chat with.

‘Tell me you’re training this morning,’ she said, dropping the sack to her feet and letting it rest against her leg. Her red hair swept across her face and she brushed it aside.

‘I wish I was, beautiful, but…’

‘Liar.’

He laughed. ‘You’re right. I’m not unhappy to be working with Kreshkali today.’

‘Any day’s more like it. What is it? The books? Charts and stars?’

‘Something like that.’

‘And I suppose your smile’s for her too?’ Maluka cocked her head to the side, raising her chin.

‘This one’s all yours,’ he answered.

‘Ha! Lying again. You’re not a Lupin, you’re a diplomat.’ She picked up the sack, her biceps flexing as she settled it on her shoulder. ‘Come to the afternoon workout, if you aren’t completely immersed. I still want to learn that one-handed uppercut you wielded yesterday.’

‘The Sword Master hasn’t shown you?’

She lowered her voice, her eyes glancing about. ‘I’m not at that level yet.’

‘But you want me to break protocol and teach you anyway? I’m not already in trouble enough with An’ Lawrence?’

‘I didn’t think that would worry you,’ she said, brushing her body alongside his as she walked past.

‘I’ll be there if I can,’ he said, but she was halfway across the courtyard by the time he spoke.

There’s an invitation I can’t misinterpret
…He watched her disappear into the sword hall. He might be training later today, but if so, his sparring partner would be Kreshkali. She’d taken a keen interest in the
sword since the battle at ASSIST. She used the blade as a conduit more than as a weapon and she was teaching him the technique.

‘I’m not interested in battle,’ she’d told him. ‘But magic—that’s another thing.’

Magic and divination mattered more than anything to the High Priestess—more than anything she explored with him, anyway. He wondered how An’ Lawrence felt about that. He was such a traditionalist when it came to boosting the power of the sword with magic. As far as he knew, Rosette and Zero were the only students he worked with in that way. He doubted he would get a chance to learn it from him any time soon.
Not with the strain in the air.

The tension between him and An’ Lawrence had increased proportionally to the time he spent with Kreshkali. The more they were together, the harsher he became. Could he be jealous? The thought made him smile. In any case, Teg still trained with the sword students, and they were grim workouts when An’ Lawrence took the class. Grim but instructional. Teg sometimes wondered whose benefit the sword sessions were really for—him or the Sword Master. That man’s biases were getting in the way of progress, and he told both Kali and Hotha so.

Kreshkali had suggested it was a mirror. He had to think about that. He shook his head and carried on. Today was different. No need to brood over these details. He would be spending this entire glorious day with his mentor, if all the signs added up. She’d asked him to pack a few things and he suspected they were going on a little trip. He breezed through the temple doors, the scent of cedar, sandalwood and fresh coffee greeting him. So far his apprenticeship was the best time of his life.

Of course it was challenging, and Kreshkali was tough on him, exacting, but he loved the work. The
readings she set and the discussions that followed opened his mind in ways he’d never dreamed of. It was like a whole new world. And the magic she taught was different from the Lupin mind spells he’d perfected in Los Loma, Gaela. Kali’s lessons made him feel indescribable joy, and the energy went both ways. She was equally keen to explore the Lupin earth magic. He shivered.

There was something else he found indescribable, something that took him over when he was in her presence. It made his head spin and his heart pound. It made him want to point his nose towards the moon and yowl,
Kreshkali!
He strode down the hall, his bare feet silent on the carpet. The library was in sight. She would be waiting—his mentor, his queen. He would not be late.

‘
Y
ou’re brooding,’ Kreshkali said.

Grayson glanced at her before returning to his work. If he ignored her, she might go away. She didn’t. Instead, she leaned over his shoulder—not his favourite placement for any onlooker—studying the drawing board in his lap. His stomach grumbled. Would he come poking his nose in her grove when she was brewing a spell? Certainly not. ‘What’s that, Kali?’ he asked.

‘I said, you’re brooding.’

‘I’m not brooding, woman,’ he answered, rubbing out a section of the sketch and redrawing it. ‘I’m concentrating. This is my work. It takes focus.’

Kreshkali exhaled forcefully. ‘I know the difference between concentration and mood,’ she said.

He turned to her. ‘I imagine you would.’

She chuckled. She put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. ‘You want to tell me what’s up?’ she asked.

He ignored the question, rubbing out the line again and redrawing it in a higher arc. The image was captivating and he wanted to get it right. The wings needed to be able to carry the beast’s weight, be capable of more than just short hops. It had to be able to fly. The woman who commissioned this tattoo was very specific.

Make it real,
she had said.
Make it as if you have met this being in more than your dreams.

She called it
Ishtar’s Lion
and spoke of it as one would a lover, or a god. He didn’t know if this creature existed anywhere in the many-worlds, but he had seen a life-size sculpture of it in the plaza of Treeon Temple. It stood guard in the eastern corner—a winged lion with a long tail and sharp claws, crouched to pounce, or perhaps take flight. They called it something else there, but he didn’t remember the name. He intended to design it as authentically as he could imagine, though, as ‘real’ as he could picture it when she described it to him. What an intriguing notion—a winged lion.

‘Grayson?’

He put down his pencil and pointed towards the waterskin. She passed it over. Kreshkali would linger until he gave her his full attention. He might as well do it now so he could actually get some work done when she left. He took a swig and wiped his mouth. The only thing she could have been there to discuss was Rosette, and there was no point pretending that topic didn’t worry his mind. ‘She’s been gone a long time,’ he said.

‘Maybe, Grayson, and maybe not. We don’t know how fast or slow time is moving for any of us.’

‘It’s not going fast for me, I promise.’ He traced his finger along the edge of the lion’s shoulder. ‘I thought she would be back by now, or at least would have sent a message. It’s been half a year, for me.’

Kreshkali gave his shoulder another squeeze and sat down. He shifted along the narrow bench, releasing tension as she leaned against him. It was a comforting gesture, and he allowed it.

‘I thought we would have heard something by now as well,’ she whispered. ‘Not much we can do but carry on, though. The bright side is, she may have only experienced a few days of absence herself not all these months.’

‘Or it might be many years for her. She might be living her whole life out in another world, away from us. I can’t…’ He let his thought trail off.

‘If that’s true, then she and Jarrod aren’t meeting with much success. Or they can’t get back. I don’t think it helps to dwell on either of those possibilities.’

He nodded, taking another drink. ‘Do you know where they were called to?’ he asked. ‘Or what the problem was?’

She shook her head. ‘I know it was urgent. They were away within hours.’

‘I remember. I didn’t even hear about it until after they’d left.’ He rubbed his forehead as if trying to shift a heavy weight. ‘Can’t Scylla communicate with Drayco? Would she have heard something?’

‘I’d have told you if she had, but there’s been no word through the corridors. Too much time and space between. The mind-links don’t often transmit that far, even with the temple cats.’

Grayson returned to his work. ‘Nothing to do but wait, then,’ he said.