I SAT UP IN BED. “Leif, you don’t really believe…” I couldn’t bring myself to conjecture aloud. To say that Esau and Perl, our parents, might have some connection to this horrid murderer.
Leif shook his head. “No. But someone close to them, perhaps.”
Another dreadful thought came to mind. “Are they in danger?”
“I don’t know.” Leif began to pack his scent vials into their box. “I need to talk to our clan leader. Somehow, the Curare must have been stolen. That one of our clan is…” Seeming lost for words, Leif banged the box’s top down. “Compromised? Saying we have a spy sounds too dramatic even for me.” Leif gave me a rueful grin. “I doubt our leader will even believe me.” He grabbed his kit and rushed from the room.
Tula, who had remained quiet during our conversation, asked, “Could Ferde…” She swallowed. “Could my attacker be from the Zaltana Clan?”
“Ferde? Is that his name?”
She covered her face with a hand. “No. That’s just what I named him. I hid that from you. I was embarrassed.” She stopped and took a deep breath, glancing at her sister.
Opal yawned and said she needed to get some sleep. She kissed Tula on the cheek and pulled the covers up to Tula’s chin before leaving.
After a few moments of silence, I said, “You don’t have to explain.”
“I want to, talking helps. Ferde is short for Fer-de-lance. A poisonous viper that hunts for prey by seeking heat. We used to get them in our factory all the time. They were drawn to the kilns. One killed my uncle. Anytime one of us would go out to the factory, my mother would say, ‘Be careful. Don’t let Ferde get you.’ My older sister and I used to scare Opal by telling her Ferde was coming for her.” Tula made a small sound as tears tracked down her face. “I have to apologize to Opal for being so mean. It’s funny…” She choked out. “I was the one taken by Ferde, but if I’d had a choice, I would have rather been bitten by the real snake.”
I couldn’t find any words of comfort for Tula.
Later that night, Bain arrived. He carried a lantern, and Dax, ladened with a large leather-covered book and rolls of paper, followed him into the room. Yet another roll of paper was tucked under Bain’s arm. He lit the lanterns in the room until the air blazed with candlelight. Bain wore the same purple robe he had worn the day before. Without preamble, he spread the paper across my bed. My stomach clenched when I looked at the scroll. The symbols I had seen tattooed on Ferde’s body covered the parchment.
Bain watched my reaction closely. “These, then, are the right symbols?”
I nodded. “Where..?”
Bain took the book from Dax, and for once the young man’s face held a serious expression.
“This ancient text written in the Efe language tells of magic symbols from long ago. It reports that these symbols were so powerful that they could not be drawn in the book, for to do so would call the power. But, fortunate for us, they describe them in detail. And fortunate, too, Dax was able to translate the Efe language into these.” Bain gestured to the paper.
“That’s some progress,” I said.
Dax flashed a smile. “My talents are finally being used for a good cause.”
Bain gave Dax a stern look. Dax sobered.
“The order of the symbols is very important,” Bain explained, “for they weave a story. If you can tell us where they were on the killer’s body, we might be able to discern what motivates him.”
I studied the sheet, trying to remember where Ferde had painted the markings on his body. “There are some patterns on him that aren’t on this paper,” I said.
“Here,” Tula said. Her eyes were closed. Even though her arm trembled, she held out her right hand. “I know them by heart.”
Bain handed her the paper as Dax put his rolls on the floor. Unrolling one, he began to sketch an outline of a man on the sheet with a slender piece of charcoal. Tula stared at the symbols for a moment then she recited their order. Starting with Ferde’s left shoulder; she worked her way across his body to his right shoulder, then continued left to right like lines of words in a book.
When Tula came to a symbol that wasn’t on Bain’s sheet, I drew it on a piece of scrap paper for Dax. Even though my drawings looked clumsy compared to his, he was able to duplicate my efforts on his paper.
Tula stuttered in embarrassment when she reached Ferde’s groin. Bain squeezed her hand and made a comment about how the man must have suffered for his art. A single chuckle burst from Tula. By her expression, I knew the brief laugh had surprised her. I suppressed a smile; Tula had started on the long road of recovery.
Tula had memorized the symbols on her attacker’s back. I cringed, remembering that she had spent almost two weeks as his prisoner. She also recalled other things about him—the scars on his ankles, the size of his hands, the red dirt under his fingernails, the shape and soft fabric of his red mask, and his ears.
“Why his ears?” Bain asked.
Tula shut her eyes and, even though her voice quavered, explained that each time he had staked her to the ground and thrust deep inside her, he turned his head to avoid looking into her eyes. To block out the pain, Tula focused on his ear. The first time he raped her, Tula bit him on the right ear. She recalled feeling a moment of satisfaction when the hot metallic taste of his blood filled her mouth.
“A tiny victory for me,” Tula said then shuddered so fiercely her bed shook. “I never did it again.”
Dax, who had been drawing Tula’s every description from his spot on the floor, smoothed his horrified expression before giving her his sketch.
After some minor corrections, Tula handed the paper to Bain. “That’s him,” she said.
The effort had sapped so much of her strength that Tula fell asleep before Dax could gather his supplies.
I touched Bain’s sleeve. “Can I ask you something?”
The magician glanced at his apprentice.
“I’ll wait for you in your tower,” Dax said to him. He left.
“You can always ask. No need to get permission, child.”
I shook my head at the endearment. With only a bit of my strength returning, I felt ancient. I had no energy to correct him, though I doubt it would do me any good. He tended to call everyone child, even Irys, and she was twice my age.
“Irys hasn’t come to visit. Is she still angry with me?”
“I would not use the word angry. Furious or livid comes closer to the truth.”
My face must have reflected my terror because Bain laid a soothing hand over mine.
“You must remember that you are her student. Your actions reflect her skills as a teacher. What you did with Tula was extremely dangerous. You could have killed Tula, Opal, Leif and yourself. You did not consult Irys or seek her help, relying solely on yourself.”
I opened my mouth to defend myself, but Bain raised a forestalling hand. “A skill, I am sure, you learned in Ixia. No one to help you. No one to trust. You did what you had to do to survive. Am I not correct?” Bain didn’t wait for my reply. “But you are not in the north anymore. Here you have friends, colleagues and others to guide you and to help you. Sitia is very different from Ixia. No one person rules. We have a Council that represents our people. We debate and decide together. This is something you need to learn, and Irys needs to teach you. When she understands why you acte
d as you did, she will not be so upset.”
“How long will that take?”
Bain smiled. “Not long. Irys is like the volcanoes in the Emerald Mountains. She might emit some steam, spit some lava, but she is quick to cool. She probably would have visited today, but a messenger arrived from Ixia this afternoon.”
“A messenger?” I tried to get out of bed, but my legs wouldn’t hold my weight. I ended up on the floor.
Bain tsked at me, calling Hayes to help me into bed.
When Hayes left, I asked again, “What messenger? Tell me.”
“Council business.” The magician made a shooing motion with his hand as if the entire topic bored him. “Something about an Ixian ambassador and his retinue requesting permission to visit Sitia.”
An Ixian ambassador coming here? I mulled over the implications, as Bain, anxious to translate the killer’s tattoos, hastened to leave the room.
“Bain,” I called as he opened the door. “When are the Ixians coming?”
“I do not know. I am sure Irys will tell you when she comes.”
When. At this point, I felt if was the better word. Waiting for her became intolerable. I hated just lying there, being so helpless. Irys must have sensed my agitation.
Yelena, I heard her voice in my mind. Relax. Conserve your strength.
But I need—
To get a good night’s sleep. Or I shall tell you nothing. Understand?
Her firm tone left me no chance to argue. Yes, sir.
I tried to settle my mind. Instead of obsessing about when the northern delegation would arrive, I thought about who Commander Ambrose would send as his ambassador. He wouldn’t risk one of his generals; sending an aide seemed more logical.
Valek would be my choice, but the Sitians wouldn’t trust him, and he would be in too much danger. Cahil and his men would try to kill him for assassinating the former King of Ixia. But would they succeed? That would depend on how many attacked him at one time.
I imagined Valek countering strikes with his typical grace and speed, but huge green leaves began to obscure the image in my mind. The leaves blocked my view and soon vegetation surrounded me. I fought my way through the dense jungle, searching for Valek. My pace increased as the awareness of being chased pressed on my back. Glancing over my shoulder, I spotted a long tan snake with red markings slithering after me.