libraries, but so far they’d found no clues.
The portals were aligned to intention. If the traveller had a strong enough focus—a clear and fearless picture of their destination—they could enter. They might even end up where they wanted to go, but the real ticket was in the blood. The safest travel pass was encoded in the DNA. The Richter line had it, and Grayson. They could commune directly with the Entities, as could Jarrod. For anyone else, though, the journey would be a gamble. With the portals between the worlds open to so many—the traffic between Gaela and Earth ever increasing—Kreshkali had concerns, the risk of trackers being one of them.
‘ASSIST is down, but maybe not all the way out,’ she’d said when she and Rosette had discussed it.
‘Is there anything we can do about it?’ Rosette had asked.
‘I’m weaving a selective spell at each portal. Travellers with the wrong intentions will be stopped, or at least diverted.’
‘Wrong intentions?’ Rosette had said.
‘Wrong to us.’
‘And it will work?’
‘It will, if we can find all the portals.’
Rosette had nodded, and begun the search. She and Jarrod had found cryptic text in Timbali referring tothe portals, though their exact locations were not disclosed. Rosette wondered if they might have been so well known at one time that they didn’t need a map to identify them. Jarrod wasn’t sure.
‘The ancients knew of them, that’s clear,’ he’d said. ‘And they used them, on occasion. But they were meticulous record keepers. Look at these lists.’ He had held up a scroll the length of his body. ‘You can see how many nails were in each horseshoe and an all-too-graphic description of what their dogs were fed. It makes sense that there would be a set of coordinates for the portals as well.’
‘Then there is,’ Rosette had said. ‘We just haven’t looked in the right place yet.’
She’d been up a ladder reaching for the top shelf when she’d heard the call—a deafening sound that had stopped her cold. Jarrod’s eyes told her he’d heard it too, but when she looked past the long tables and shelves of the library and out into the courtyard, she realised no one else had. Students were reading quietly, sparrows and yellow-eyed figbirds were dipping in and out of the courtyard, initiates were meditating under the flowering cherry trees. A messenger rode past, waving at a friend near the well.
Before it sounded again, she’d closed the book in her hand. As the cover dropped down on the thick pages, a letter fell out. She’d caught it in her fingers, holding it tight as she’d turned it over. The envelope was the colour of cornsilk with a blood-red seal on one side and dark blue writing on the other—a flowery script spelling out the name Nellion Paree in flamboyant loops and jags. She had dropped it into her bag while backing down the ladder, no time to give it more thought. They’d been called to another world, loud and clear, and the need was urgent.
After packing some basic supplies and sending aquick message to Kreshkali, they’d sailed south to the Gulf of Tasisia. Even though the distance to the mainland was shorter to the north, a current ripped through the strait, making it impossible to cross. The only way to and from the Isle of Lemur was the Port of Tuscaro at the south end of the Gulf. It took a little coaxing to get Drayco back on board, but the Azul Sea was smooth and calm, the breeze filling the sails. The next morning they’d made their way to Flureon by coach—two days’ travel with a good team.
‘This is another reason why we need those maps,’ Jarrod had said. ‘There would be a portal on Lemur, surely.’
‘If there is, it’s hiding,’ Rosette had said.
They’d slipped into the portal above Bastis Point, trusting the Entity to take them where they were needed. Now Gaela was far behind, and what lay ahead, Rosette had no idea. Jarrod had been right in front of her. It didn’t make sense
The portals were aligned to intention. If the traveller had a strong enough focus—a clear and fearless picture of their destination—they could enter. They might even end up where they wanted to go, but the real ticket was in the blood. The safest travel pass was encoded in the DNA. The Richter line had it, and Grayson. They could commune directly with the Entities, as could Jarrod. For anyone else, though, the journey would be a gamble. With the portals between the worlds open to so many—the traffic between Gaela and Earth ever increasing—Kreshkali had concerns, the risk of trackers being one of them.
‘ASSIST is down, but maybe not all the way out,’ she’d said when she and Rosette had discussed it.
‘Is there anything we can do about it?’ Rosette had asked.
‘I’m weaving a selective spell at each portal. Travellers with the wrong intentions will be stopped, or at least diverted.’
‘Wrong intentions?’ Rosette had said.
‘Wrong to us.’
‘And it will work?’
‘It will, if we can find all the portals.’
Rosette had nodded, and begun the search. She and Jarrod had found cryptic text in Timbali referring tothe portals, though their exact locations were not disclosed. Rosette wondered if they might have been so well known at one time that they didn’t need a map to identify them. Jarrod wasn’t sure.
‘The ancients knew of them, that’s clear,’ he’d said. ‘And they used them, on occasion. But they were meticulous record keepers. Look at these lists.’ He had held up a scroll the length of his body. ‘You can see how many nails were in each horseshoe and an all-too-graphic description of what their dogs were fed. It makes sense that there would be a set of coordinates for the portals as well.’
‘Then there is,’ Rosette had said. ‘We just haven’t looked in the right place yet.’
She’d been up a ladder reaching for the top shelf when she’d heard the call—a deafening sound that had stopped her cold. Jarrod’s eyes told her he’d heard it too, but when she looked past the long tables and shelves of the library and out into the courtyard, she realised no one else had. Students were reading quietly, sparrows and yellow-eyed figbirds were dipping in and out of the courtyard, initiates were meditating under the flowering cherry trees. A messenger rode past, waving at a friend near the well.
Before it sounded again, she’d closed the book in her hand. As the cover dropped down on the thick pages, a letter fell out. She’d caught it in her fingers, holding it tight as she’d turned it over. The envelope was the colour of cornsilk with a blood-red seal on one side and dark blue writing on the other—a flowery script spelling out the name Nellion Paree in flamboyant loops and jags. She had dropped it into her bag while backing down the ladder, no time to give it more thought. They’d been called to another world, loud and clear, and the need was urgent.
After packing some basic supplies and sending aquick message to Kreshkali, they’d sailed south to the Gulf of Tasisia. Even though the distance to the mainland was shorter to the north, a current ripped through the strait, making it impossible to cross. The only way to and from the Isle of Lemur was the Port of Tuscaro at the south end of the Gulf. It took a little coaxing to get Drayco back on board, but the Azul Sea was smooth and calm, the breeze filling the sails. The next morning they’d made their way to Flureon by coach—two days’ travel with a good team.
‘This is another reason why we need those maps,’ Jarrod had said. ‘There would be a portal on Lemur, surely.’
‘If there is, it’s hiding,’ Rosette had said.
They’d slipped into the portal above Bastis Point, trusting the Entity to take them where they were needed. Now Gaela was far behind, and what lay ahead, Rosette had no idea. Jarrod had been right in front of her. It didn’t make sense
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