Authors: Kim Falconer
‘It does feel like something substantial ahead,’ An Lawrence said. This time the positivity in his voice was genuine.
‘I agree!’ She’d not known how she would ever locate the mansion until she found the picture in her mother’s diary—a treasure and a boon—though the image itself was of little help. The world had seen much change since the photo was taken. Nothing was recognisable. The lush trees that led the way, exploding in purple blossoms and feathery green leaves, weren’t even a memory for her generation. Yet the image had been passed down their family line for more than reasons of nostalgia.
She still recalled the thrill she’d experienced when she’d turned the photograph over and read the back. The message was cryptic, it had to be, but it contained all the information needed to locate the estate—for one who knew how to interpret it.
Luka Michelle Paree
January 30, 2054
05:55:23
151 W 13:23
33 N 52:11
She had guessed immediately it was not her ancestor’s birth data she was looking at. Although of interest, that information wouldn’t lead to the estate.
The latitude and longitude would be of no help either, as all such coordinates had altered with the first plate-shift. But the data was there to find the Paree mansion. She was sure of it. Her ancestor wouldn’t have left a set of coordinates just by chance. It had to be the data for a horary chart, an effective horoscope map that would lead right to the front door, no matter how much the terrain had changed—providing whoever had written the coordinates had asked the right question.
She’d drawn up the chart using the Draconic zodiac—a system based not on the vernal equinox as in Western astrology, but on the lunar nodes—studying the rulerships and aspects before plotting a path that led, eventually, to the gates surrounding the estate of Dr Luka Paree. Because magnetic north had shifted by twenty degrees since the data was written, she had to keep recalibrating her alignment, but that fortuitous earthquake had shot them out of the canyons in the right direction. The fence line led to the gate and beyond the gate would be the manor estate. What condition was it in? By the sound of the Three Sisters’ cackling, it would be everything she hoped for.
As they wound their way down a steep grade and trotted up the next hill, the manor house came into view and her face lit up like a sunrise. ‘Rowan!’ She reached out to grip his arm.
There, in a shallow valley, was the Paree estate, a white sandstone manor in a red sea desert, an oasis frozen in time, immune to the beating suffered by the surrounding land. The two-storey mansion had a domed stained-glass roof over one wing and turrets rising above the balcony windows. Flowerboxes overflowed with trailing red roses, and smooth-branched gum trees swayed like guardians at the inner gates. The front entrance was paved with terracotta
tiles. Wide steps led down from the front doors to a courtyard fountain which spouted crystal-clear water over a prancing black onyx stallion.
Kreshkali squeezed the Sword Master’s hand tighter. ‘It’s so like Diablai,’ she whispered.
‘Uncanny.’
A stone wall surrounded the grounds, graced with flowering shrubs and broad, shady oaks. On the opposite side of the courtyard were the stables, built for warm weather with open box stalls and breezeways. Stone-paved driveways led to and from other buildings. It was a storybook setting, a valley sleeping under a spell, waiting patiently to be awakened—vibrant in the afternoon light. And there were so many trees! Kreshkali’s eyes welled. Live trees on Earth! Oaks with dark green leaves and pale jacarandas bare of leaf but covered in purple blossoms, weeping willows and figs, paperbark eucalypts and yellow blooming acacias, all offered a welcome reprieve from the sun. Everywhere, flowers displayed their colours like strutting roosters—a view she’d never seen this side of Gaela.
‘It’s beautiful,’ An’ Lawrence said, bringing his horse to a halt. ‘Your Earth really is beautiful.’
‘I never thought I’d hear you say that.’
‘Me neither, but this is extraordinary. It reminds me of Timbali Temple in the spring.’
Kreshkali let the tears spill down her face. ‘There must be an underground water source,’ she said, wiping her eyes. ‘Look at the colour of the grass.’ She pointed to the rolling paddocks behind the stables and orchard.
‘Grass alone would be a marvel in this desert, but that’s as green as the Southern Cusca Plains, and there are acres of it.’
The horses tugged at the reins, tossing their heads.
Scylla bounded down the lane, scampering in spite of the heat.
Water! Mice! Joy!
‘It might be the last oasis on Earth,’ An’ Lawrence said, allowing his horse to follow Scylla.
The fountain water looked pure, and a trough next to the hitching posts ran clear and clean, the water flowing through like a stream, its source as yet undetected. Garden sculptures stood straight and regal as if the earth hadn’t rocked and belched beneath them.
‘It’s been protected,’ Kreshkali said.
They followed Scylla, jogging down the lane that led to the inner gates. They were wide open and welcoming.
‘Clearly a spell,’ An’ Lawrence agreed as he dismounted, leading his horse towards the manor entrance.
‘I’d like to know what it is,’ Kreshkali murmured. She felt the air with her fingertips.
‘Can you work it out?’
‘Maybe.’
They stopped at the hitching posts, the horses plunging their muzzles into the water, sipping at a frantic rate. An’ Lawrence lifted their heads after every few swallows to slow them down. ‘We’ve got to watch they don’t get colic in that pasture,’ he said, pointing towards the fields. ‘I’ve never seen clover so green.’
Kreshkali helped unsaddle the horses and rub them down, checking their hooves for stones. ‘That paddock looks like the best bet.’ She indicated a small corral, knee-deep in pale green rye grass with a few tassels of oats.
‘That will keep their minds off the Lupins, at least,’ she said, leading the horses towards the enclosure and releasing them. The animals didn’t take more than one step forward before setting into the grass. She had to
give them a shove, slapping their rumps, in order to close the gates behind them.
‘But will it keep the Lupins’ mind off our horses?’
‘I don’t think they’re here for food, Rowan.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
Kali turned towards the manor house. ‘Shall we investigate?’
‘We’d better bring provisions.’ He looked the place up and down. ‘It could take hours to explore. There’s room for a whole village here.’
‘It’s perfect.’ She smiled, grabbing two green packets from the saddlebags. ‘Just what I’ve been hoping for.’
‘Tell me you’ve something other than those vile nutries?’ he said, wrinkling his nose.
‘You’re as fussy as Rosette.’ She laughed. ‘This is all we have left, unless you would care to hunt.’
As if in answer, a not-too-distant howl sounded on the wind.
‘I think I’ll explore the manor first,’ he said.
The massive doors were locked, but she coaxed them as she had the main gate, with a bit of charm and love. The handle seemed to awaken with her touch. ‘Thank you, darlings,’ she said, pushing the door open.
The outer door frames had faded to grey, bleached and weathered by the passing centuries, but once over the threshold the rich tones and hues jumped out to meet them. The walls were white marble veined with lapis, a sky blue shot with gold. The archway and door were made of dark polished teak, and the brass latches shone with a golden glow. Finely woven rugs covered the Spanish tiles, a layer of dust muting the colours beneath. She crossed the entranceway, leaving boot prints in the fine film. An’ Lawrence and Scylla followed more slowly—Scylla sniffing her way in.
‘We need to find the library,’ Kreshkali said, gazing at the ceiling. ‘It’s probably upstairs.’
‘Where do you think the kitchen is?’ An’ Lawrence asked as he examined the pictures lining the hall.
Kreshkali joined him. They were engaging images that drew the eye towards the centre of each lively scene—picnics in lush woodlands, a pool full of waterlilies and nymphs. And there was one of charging warhorses, their riders carrying off two voluptuous nude women, much to their apparent delight.
‘You’re that hungry?’ she asked, pulling her eyes away from the paintings.
‘Starving.’
She tossed him a nutri and he caught it without looking. ‘Eat up.’
Scylla sniffed the nutri and sneezed.
‘I might explore in this direction,’ he said, waving towards the other side of the hall. ‘There has to be something better here than this green glue.’
‘I imagine there’s a sizable pantry, Rowan, but I doubt it will still be stocked, at least not with anything edible.’
‘I’m not so sure. There’s a palpable spell on the whole estate—the trees, water sources, ground untouched by quakes. How else could it have survived? I’m guessing everything has been preserved—books, equipment, medicaments, weapons and food.’
‘Perhaps,’ Kreshkali said. She’d spotted a letter on a table near the stairwell. She picked up the envelope and blew off the dust, frowning at the address before opening it. ‘Worth a look,’ she said, not taking her eyes from the letter.
‘You’re not hungry?’
‘Maybe. Just something I need to check.’ Her head came up when he chuckled. ‘What?’
‘You’ve come home, haven’t you?’
She glanced down the hallway and back to him. ‘As close as I’ve ever been.’
‘What spell are you brewing, Kali? You’ve got that look…’
She returned to examining the letter. ‘Pardon?’
‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘I’m checking out this side.’ His heels clicked across the tiles as he headed towards the left wing. Scylla sneezed again and followed him, her soft pads not making a sound though they left prints on the dusty rugs.
Kreshkali slipped the letter into her pocket.
Isn’t that just interesting! They thought of everything.
She strode down the hall, looking into the rooms that branched out on either side of the long corridor. There was a massive dining hall that seated over one hundred, the long tables and high-backed chairs buried under a heavy covering of dust but otherwise sound. She swiped the dusty table with her finger to reveal the gleam underneath, a rich oak finish. The grain swirled like a waterway, creating beautiful patterns in the wood. Exquisite. She’d never seen a wooden table on Earth before, let alone one so large. The last had been made—and destroyed—before she’d been born.
The room was lined with buffets and hutches holding china, wineglasses and silverware. Kreshkali let her fingers glide over the patterned dishes, her tattooed hands delicately counting cups and saucers.
She checked the other rooms. There was a parlour with decadent sofas and cushions, a huge stone fireplace, and a refreshment room with basins and toilet.
‘Plumbing!’ she shouted over the sound of the flush. ‘We have plumbing, Rowan.’
I don’t know what your obsession is with such conveniences, but I’m glad you’re happy.
He sent the message directly to her mind.
I’m not happy, Rowan. I’m ecstatic!
She found an open room with a raised stage fitted
with chairs and music stands and sound equipment, and a room with tiered seating—a lecture hall, perhaps. She breezed in and out of them all, her heart quickening.
She arrived at the end of the hall to find the double doors ajar. She inhaled deeply, her fingers twitching. She heard the faint rise and fall of breath not her own, and the displacement of energy created by a familiar presence. She knew this scent—Lupin through and through. Her shoulders relaxed, and a spontaneous smile lifted her face. She pushed the doors wide and entered, searching him out. The Lupin greeted her with a smile of his own, arms stretched wide, gesturing for her to take in the expanse.
‘The library!’ she said, turning full circle.
‘Did you guess it would be this grand?’ he asked, his voice like silk over bare skin.
She resisted the urge to lock eyes immediately, turning her attention to the room instead. She took her time, absorbing the features as she might a work of art. The place was enormous, lined with bookshelves two storeys high, packed tight with tomes. Stairs led up to the second level and a railed walkway ran around its circumference, little tables and chairs set up in each corner for study. Light filtered through the stained-glass ceiling, casting a rose, blue and emerald tint over the carpet. Broad wooden tables and chairs filled the centre of the room, some with quiescent computer monitors and consoles, and others with books, notes and calculation devices.
‘It’s impressive, Hotha,’ she answered, finally allowing her eyes to rest on the Lupin. ‘More than I dreamed of.’
‘Indeed.’
He sat at the far end of the table, filling a high-backed chair. She had recognised him immediately by
his posture more than anything, though his stunning looks and rich forest scent were unmistakable identifiers as well. Hotha had a regal quality that set him apart. Man or wolf, he was exquisite in either form—superb physique, dark eyes, sculptured jaw, jet black hair, dazzling smile.
He returned her gaze unblinking. ‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ he said.
‘You didn’t come in the front door.’
‘Your horses aren’t accustomed to us. I thought I would spare them the fright.’
‘And I thought it was An’ Lawrence you avoided.’ She chuckled.
‘The man holds a grudge.’
‘Not without reason. I think it best you two keep your distance, for now.’
Kreshkali crossed the room and he stood, bending to kiss her—one cheek, the other, and then her lips.
He pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit. ‘Straight to business?’
‘Hotha, we need to discuss the future.’
‘Which future?’ he asked, his eyes dancing.
Heat rose up her spine. ‘That’s an interesting question.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘Are you saying you’ve glimpsed more than one?’
‘I have.’
‘Please tell me you aren’t playing with time.’
‘It’s anybody’s game, my queen.’
‘True, if you know the rules.’
‘That’s just it. I don’t think there are any.’