The Chronicles Of Ixia. Books 1-6. Maria Snyder V.

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СКАЧАТЬ not thinking clearly. I’ll be back in the morning, and you will talk to me. Come, Leif.” Roze strode out the door with Leif on her heels.

      Hayes shooed everyone else out. As the door closed, I heard Bain tell Irys to assign an extra guard for the evening. A good idea. If Goel came in, I couldn’t prevent him from carrying out his promises to torture me.

      Apprehension about being so helpless crawled along my spine. A similar situation that haunted Tula. One of her many ghosts was being at the mercy of another. Her promise to tell me everything weighed on my mind; I had just gotten rid of my own ghost. Though, I hated to admit, Reyad still retained some power. Whenever I had doubts, he seemed to enjoy visiting my nightmares. Or did he cause them? Or did I invite him?

      To distract myself from such troublesome thoughts, I tried to muster some energy to talk to Tula, but exhaustion claimed me instead and I sank into a deep dreamless sleep.

      I felt a little better in the morning, but had only enough strength to sit up in bed. At least I could ask Tula how she felt.

      She closed her eyes. Pointing to her temple she said, “Come.”

      I sighed with regret. “I don’t have the energy to link our minds, Tula.”

      “Perhaps I can help,” Leif said from the doorway.

      “No! Go away.” Tula shielded her face with her arms.

      “If you don’t talk to me, First Magician will come and take the information she needs from you,” Leif explained.

      Tula peeked out at me in confusion.

      “It won’t be pleasant,” I said. “It’s almost as bad as what your attacker did to you. I know.”

      Leif averted his eyes. I hoped he felt guilty. Studying him closer, I wondered why he had aided me the day before. What had happened to his smirk? Where was his derision and condescension? I realized I barely knew this man.

      Not wanting to guess his motives anymore, I demanded, “Why did you help me?”

      A scowl gripped his face, but, with a sigh, he smoothed his features, shuttering his emotions. “Mother would kill me if I had let you die,” he said.

      He turned to Tula, but I refused to let him get away with such a flippant response. “What’s the real reason?”

      Hatred blazed in Leif’s jade eyes, but a second later his posture softened, as if someone had blown out a candle. He whispered, “I couldn’t bear to do nothing and lose you again.”

      Then, his mental defenses dropped and I heard his thoughts. I still hate you.

      His trust surprised me, though his petulant comment failed to concern me. An emotion, even hatred, was better than apathy. Could this be a first step in bridging the distance between us?

      “What did he say?” Tula asked.

      “He wants to help you,” I said. “Tula, this is my brother. Without him we wouldn’t have gotten you back. If you want me to find your attacker, I’ll need his strength.”

      “But, he’ll see. He’ll know about …” Tula squeezed her arms together.

      “I already know,” Leif said.

      He pulled Tula’s arms away from her face with a gentleness that amazed me. I thought back to my mother’s comments about Leif’s magic. She had said he helped with crimes, sensing a person’s guilt and history. Now, as I watched him with Tula, I wanted to know more about him and how he used his magic.

      “We need to find him and stop him from hurting another girl,” Leif explained.

      She swallowed and bit her lip before nodding. Leif stood between our beds, took Tula’s hand, and reached for mine. I reclined on the mattress and grabbed his hand. Then, using his energy, I formed a mental link with Tula.

      In her mind, the two of us stood by a gray stone furnace. Leif’s power roared around us like the fire under the kiln.

      “I was here, putting coal into the furnace. It was close to midnight when …” She clutched her apron. Black soot streaked the white fabric. “A dark cloth wrapped around my face. Before I could scream, I felt a sharp stab in my arm. Then … then …” Tula stopped speaking.

      On our mental stage, she stepped toward me. I hugged her trembling body, and within the space of a breath I became Tula, witnessing my own abduction.

      Numbness spread from the stab wound, freezing my muscles. Dizziness was the only indication I’d been moved. Time passed. When the cloth was removed from my face, I was lying inside a tent. Unable to move, I stared up at a lean man with short brown hair that was streaked with gold. He wore only a red mask. Strange crimson symbols had been painted all over his sand-colored skin. He held four wooden stakes, rope and a mallet. Feeling returned to my limbs.

      “Tula, no. I can’t,” I said in my mind. I knew what horrors threatened to come. I lacked the strength to endure them with her right now. “Just show him to me.”

      She froze the image of the man so I could study the symbols. The circular patterns resided within bigger patterns of animals. Triangles traced down his smooth arms and legs. Though thin, he radiated power.

      A complete stranger to Tula, everything about him seemed foreign to her. Even the harsh way he pronounced her name, emphasizing the la, sounded odd. But he knew her. Knew the names of her sisters and parents. Knew how they melted sand, working it into glass.

      Then, in a whirl of sound and color, she showed me the man at different times. She wasn’t permitted to leave the tent, but whenever he entered or left, Tula caught a glimpse of the outside, a tease of freedom. Long thick grass filled the whole view.

      When he came to her, he always wore a mask. Letting the numbness in her body wear off before beating or raping her. Letting her feel the pain he applied with seeming reverence. After he finished the torture, he took a thorn and scratched her skin.

      Puzzled at first by this action, Tula soon learned to dread and to crave the ointment he would rub into the thorn’s bleeding gash. It was the numbing lotion that would paralyze her, taking away all her pain and any chance she might have to escape.

      The ointment, though, had a strong crisp scent, similar to the sharp smell of alcohol mixed with a citrus perfume. The aroma remained around me like a poisonous fog as Leif’s energy waned. He broke the magical connection to Tula.

      “That smell …” Leif said as he perched on the edge of my bed. “I couldn’t get a good whiff. All my effort went into keeping you and Tula connected.”

      “It’s horrible,” Tula said, shuddering. “I shall never forget it.”

      “What about those symbols?” I asked Leif. “Did you recognize them?”

      “Not really. Though there are some clans that use symbols for rituals.”

      “Rituals?” Dread coiled in my stomach.

      “Wedding ceremonies and naming rituals.” Leif scowled in concentration. “Thousands of years ago, magicians used to perform intricate rituals. They believed that magical СКАЧАТЬ