Читать книгу The Chronicles Of Ixia (Books 1-6) - Maria V. Snyder - Страница 22

17

STANDING NEXT TO THE two oversize soldiers, I felt like a plum wedged between a couple of cantaloupes. Misgivings crept into my mind. The notion that I could defend myself against someone of Ari’s build seemed ridiculous. If he wanted, he could pick me up and throw me over his shoulder, and there was nothing I could do about it.

“Okay. First, we’ll start with some self-defense,” Ari explained. “No weapons until the basic moves are instinctive. You’re better off fighting hand to hand than wielding a weapon you don’t know how to use. A skilled opponent would simply disarm you. Then your troubles would be doubled. Not only would you be under attack, but you’d have to counter your own weapon.”

Ari leaned his practice sword next to Janco’s, scanning the training yard. Most of the soldiers were gone, but small clumps of men still worked.

“What are your strengths?” Ari asked.

“Strengths?”

“What are you good at?”

Janco, sensing my confusion, prompted, “Are you a fast runner? That’s a handy skill.”

“Oh.” I finally understood. “I’m flexible. I used to be an acrobat.”

“Perfect. Coordination and agility are excellent skills. And…” Ari grabbed me around the waist. He threw me high into the air.

My limbs flailed a moment before instinct kicked in. Still in midair, I tucked my chin, arms and legs close to my body, executed a somersault to align myself, and landed on my feet, wobbling to regain my balance.

Outraged, I turned on Ari. Before I could demand an explanation, he said, “Another advantage of having acrobatic training is the ability to stay on your feet. That maneuver of yours could mean the difference between life and death. Right, Janco?”

Janco rubbed the vacant spot where the lower half of his right ear used to be. “It helps. You know who else would make a great fighter?”

Ari’s shoulders sagged, as if he knew what Janco was going to say next and resigned himself to it.

Intrigued, I asked, “Who?”

“A dancer. With the proper training, the fire dancers at the festival could take on anyone. With a blazing staff spinning around, I wouldn’t go against one with any weapon.”

“Except a pail of water,” Ari countered.

He and Janco then launched into an intense argument, debating the technical aspects of a fight against a fiery staff wielded by an enraged dancer. Although fascinated by the discussion, I had to interrupt them. My time was limited. The Commander’s dinner would soon be served.

With only occasional sarcastic comments about fire dancers, Ari and Janco spent the remainder of my first lesson teaching me to block punches, then kicks, until my forearms were numb.

Ari halted the exercise when another soldier approached. His and Janco’s relaxed postures tightened. They shifted to defensive stances, as Nix, the guard from Captain Parffet’s unit, came closer. The skin on Nix’s bald head was sunburned, and his thin fringe of black hair lay damply on his forehead. An overpowering stench of body odor preceded him, gagging me. His lean muscles reminded me of a slender coil of rope, dangerous when pulled tight.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Nix demanded.

“That’s—what the hell do you think you’re doing, sir?” Janco corrected him. “We outrank you. And, I think a salute would be a nice touch.”

Nix sneered. “You’ll lose your promotion when your boss finds out you’re associating with a criminal. Whose brainless idea was it to make her into a more effective killer? When another dead body shows up, you’ll be accomplices.”

Janco took a menacing step toward Nix, but Ari’s meaty hand on his shoulder stopped him. With undertones of a threat laced into his voice, Ari said, “What we do with our free time is none of your business. Now, why don’t you shuffle off to Parffet. I saw him heading toward the latrines. He’ll need you to wipe his ass soon. It’s the one skill you’re most suited for.”

Nix was outnumbered, but he couldn’t resist a parting shot. “She has a history of killing her benefactor. I’d watch my necks if I were you.”

Ari’s and Janco’s eyes stayed on Nix’s back until he left the yard. Then they turned to me.

“That’s a good start,” Ari said, ending the lesson. “See you tomorrow at dawn.”

“What about Nix?” I asked.

“No problem. We can take care of him.” Ari shrugged it off, confident in his ability to deal with Nix. I envied Ari’s self-assurance and physical power. I didn’t think I could handle Nix, and I wondered if there was another reason, besides killing Reyad, that made Nix hate me.

“I taste the Commander’s breakfast at dawn,” I said.

“Then right after.”

“What for?” I asked.

“The soldiers run laps around the compound to keep in shape,” Janco answered.

“Join them,” Ari said. “Do at least five circuits. More if you’re able. We’ll increase the amount until you’ve caught up to us.”

“How many laps do you run?”

“Fifty.”

I gulped. As I returned to the castle, I thought of the work and time I would need to devote to training. Learning self-defense would require the same commitment I had applied to my acrobatics. I couldn’t go halfway. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. I had been giddy with fairy-tale visions of easily fighting off Brazell’s guards. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized this wasn’t something to do on a whim.

I wondered if I would be better off spending my time learning about poisons and magic. In the end, all the physical training in the world wouldn’t save me from Irys’s magical powers.

My feet dragged on the ground, and my body felt as if it were pulling a wagon full of stones. Why couldn’t I just go for it? Why was I constantly considering each option, searching both sides of an argument for gaps in the logic? Like somersaulting on the trampoline, plenty of ups and downs but no forward motion. I longed for the days when a wrong decision wouldn’t cost me my life.

By the time I reached the Commander’s office, I had concluded that I had other enemies besides the magician, and being able to defend myself might save my life someday. Knowledge, whatever the form, could be as effective as a weapon.

Soon after I arrived, one of the tutors bustled into the office, dragging a young girl with him. At age twelve every child was assigned a profession based on their capabilities, and then they were sent to the appropriate tutor for four years to learn.

The tutor’s red uniform had black diamonds stitched on the collar, making it the direct opposite of an adviser’s black uniform. The girl wore the simple red jumper of a student. Her brown eyes were shiny with unshed tears. Her facial expressions alternated between terror and defiance as she battled to compose herself. I guessed she was about fifteen years old.

“What’s the problem, Beevan?” the Commander asked, annoyance tainting his voice.

“This disobedient child is a constant disruption to my class.”

“In what way?”

“Mia is a know-it-all. She refuses to solve mathematical problems in the traditional manner and has the gall to correct me in front of the entire class.”

“Why are you here?”

“I want her disciplined. Whipped, preferably, and reassigned as a servant.”

Beevan’s request caused silent tears to spill down Mia’s cheeks, although she maintained her composure, which was impressive for someone so young.

The Commander steepled his fingers, considering. I cringed for the girl, having her tutor bother the Commander for this dispute would not help her. Beevan must have gone over the training coordinator.

“I’ll handle it,” the Commander finally said. “You’re dismissed.”

Beevan wavered for a moment, opening and closing his mouth several times. His pinched expression revealed that this was not the response he had expected. Nodding stiffly, he left the office.

The Commander pushed his chair away from the desk and gestured to Mia to come around. Now eye level with her, he asked, “What’s your side of the story?”

With a thin quavering voice, she answered, “I’m good with numbers, Sir.” She hesitated as if expecting to be corrected for making a bold statement, but, when none came, she continued, “I was bored solving mathematical problems Tutor Beevan’s way, so I invented new and faster ways. He’s not good with numbers, Sir.” Again she stopped, flinching as though she was anticipating a blow. “I made the mistake of pointing out his errors. I’m sorry, Sir. Please don’t whip me, Sir. I’ll never do it again, Sir. I’ll follow Tutor Beevan’s every command.” Tears flowed down her bright pink cheeks.

“No, you won’t,” the Commander replied.

Terror gripped the girl’s face.

“Relax, child. Yelena?”

Startled, I spilled some of his tea. I had been holding his tray. “Yes, Sir.”

“Fetch Adviser Watts.”

“Yes, Sir.” I put the tray on the desk and hurried through the door. I had met Watts once. He was the Commander’s accountant, who had given me the money I had earned playing fugitive. He was working at his desk, but immediately followed me back to the office.

“Watts, do you still need an assistant?” the Commander asked.

“Yes, Sir,” Watts replied.

“Mia, you have one day to prove yourself. If you don’t dazzle Adviser Watts with your mathematical skills, then you’ll have to return to Beevan’s class. If you do, then you can have the job. Agreed?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” Mia’s pretty face was radiant as she trailed behind Watts.

I marveled at the Commander. Being compassionate, hearing Mia’s side of the story, and giving her a chance, were the exact opposite of how I imagined the encounter would play out. Why would a man with such power take the time to go that extra step? He risked upsetting Beevan and the coordinator. Why would he bother to encourage a student?

His stack of reports reclaimed the Commander’s attention, so I slipped out the door, heading toward the library to continue my research.

After a while, the sun began to set. I picked out a promising botany book to take with me as I was reluctant to have a lantern light betray my presence in the library.

The candlelight cast a dismal glow in the corridors. I watched my shadow glide along the walls as I headed for Valek’s suite, wondering if I should move back to my old room in the servants’ wing. Now that Brazell was gone, there was no logical reason for me to remain with Valek. But the thought of living in that small room, where I wouldn’t have anyone to argue with or to discuss poisoning methods with, left a hollow feeling inside me. That same empty pang I’d been having on and off these last four days.

Only the cold darkness greeted me when I entered Valek’s suite. My disappointment surprised me, and I realized I had been missing him. I shook my head at the foreign concept. Me? Miss Valek? No. I couldn’t allow myself to think that way.

Instead, I focused on my survival. If I wanted to discover an antidote to Butterfly’s Dust, paging through books on counteracting poisons while sitting in Valek’s living room wouldn’t be the smartest idea. Of course, the decision might not be mine to make. Once Valek found out Brazell had gone, he’d probably order me to move back anyway.

After I had lit the lanterns in Valek’s suite, I relaxed on the couch with the botany book. Biology had never been a favorite subject of mine, and I soon found my mind wandering. My weak efforts to remain focused were lost to my daydreams.

A muffled slam brought my attention back to the present. It sounded like a book hitting the floor. I glanced down, but my volume remained in my lap, opened to a particularly boring passage about fruit trees. I scanned the living room to see if one of Valek’s untidy piles of books had fallen over. Sighing at his mess, I couldn’t tell if something had toppled or not.

A frightening thought crept into my mind. Maybe the noise had come from upstairs. Maybe it hadn’t been a book but a person. Someone sneaking in to wait until I fell asleep to kill me. Unable to sit still, I grabbed a lantern and dashed into my room.

My backpack rested on the bureau. Rand hadn’t asked for his knife yet, so I hadn’t returned it. Pulling the blade from the pack, Ari’s words about misusing a weapon flew through my mind. It was probably foolish to take the knife, but I felt more confident with it in my hand. Armed, I returned to the living room and considered my next move. Sleep would be impossible tonight until I investigated the upstairs rooms.

Blackness from above pressed down on my meager light as I ascended the staircase. Curving to the right, the stairs ended in a sitting room. Piles of boxes, books and furniture were scattered throughout the room in a haphazard fashion, casting odd-shaped shadows on the walls. I maneuvered with caution around the heaps. My blood slammed in my heart as I shone my lantern into dark corners, searching for an ambush.

A flash of light caused a yip to escape my lips. I spun, only to discover it was my own lantern reflecting in the tall thin windows that striped the far wall.

Three rooms were located to the right of the sitting chamber. A quick heart-pumping check of the box-filled rooms revealed they were empty of ambushers and identical to the three off the downstairs living area.

To the left of the upstairs sitting area was a long hallway. Doorways lined the right side of the corridor opposite a smooth stone wall. The hall ended in a set of locked double wooden doors. Carved into the ebony wood was an elaborate hunting scene. By the thin coating of white powder on the floor beneath the doors, I guessed this was the entrance to Valek’s bedroom. The powder would show footprints, alerting Valek to an intruder. I breathed easier seeing the powder undisturbed.

As I systematically checked the remaining rooms along the corridor, the growing realization that Valek was a true pack rat struck me. I had always imagined assassins as creatures of the dark, traveling light and never staying in one place for too long. Valek’s suite resembled the house of an old married couple who had filled their rooms with all the things they had collected over the years.

Distracted by these thoughts, I opened the last doorway. It took me some time to properly register what I saw. Compared to the others, the room was barren. One long table lined the back wall, centered under a large, teardrop-shaped window. Gray rocks streaked with white—the same stones I had been tripping over in Valek’s living room and office for the past month and a half—were arranged by size on the floor.

A thick layer of dust scrunched under my boots when I walked into the room. On the table, carving chisels, metal sanding files and a grinding wheel occupied the only dust-free spots. Small statues in various stages of creation were interspersed among the tools. To my delight, I realized that the gray rocks, when carved and polished, metamorphosed into a beautiful, lustrous black, and the white streaks transformed into brilliant silver.

Setting the lantern on the table, I picked up a finished butterfly with silver spots sparkling from its wings. It fit into the palm of my hand. The detail was so exquisite that it appeared the butterfly might beat its wings and lift into the air at any moment. I admired the other statues. The same devoted care had been applied to each. Lifelike animals, insects and flowers lined the table; apparently, nature provided the artist’s favorite subjects.

Stunned, I realized Valek must be the artist. Here was a side of Valek I never imagined existed. I felt as though I had intruded upon his most personal secret. As if I had uncovered a wife and children living up here in happy seclusion, complete with the family dog.

I had noticed the figurines on Valek’s desk and, at least once a day, I glanced at the snow cat in the Commander’s office, attempting to understand why he had selected that particular statue for display. I now understood its significance. Valek had carved it for the Commander.

The shuffle of feet made me whirl around. A black shape rushed me. My knife was yanked from my grasp and pressed against my neck. Fear clenched my throat tight, suffocating me. The familiar feeling triggered a sudden flashback of soldiers disarming and dragging me off Reyad’s dead body. But Valek’s face showed mirth instead of wrath.

“Snooping?” Valek asked, stepping back.

With effort, I banished my fear and remembered to start breathing again. “I heard a noise. I came to…”

“Investigate.” Valek finished my sentence. “Searching for an intruder is different from examining statues.” He pointed with the knife to the butterfly clutched in my hand. “You were snooping.”

“Yes.”

“Good. Curiosity is a commendable trait. I wondered when you would explore up here. Find anything interesting?”

I held up the butterfly. “It’s beautiful.”

He shrugged. “Carving focuses my mind.”

I placed the statue on the table, my hand lingering over it. I would have enjoyed studying the butterfly in the sunlight. Grabbing the lantern, I followed Valek from the room.

“I really did hear a noise,” I said.

“I know. I knocked a book over to see what you would do. I didn’t expect a knife, though. Is it the one missing from the kitchen?”

“Did Rand report it?” I felt betrayed. Why hadn’t he just asked for it back?

“No. It just makes sense to keep track of large kitchen knives, so when one goes missing you’re not surprised when someone attacks you with it.” Valek handed the knife back. “You should return it. Knives won’t help you against the caliber of people after you.”

Valek and I descended the stairs. I lifted the botany book from the couch.

“What does the Commander think of the pods?” Valek asked.

“He thinks they’re from Sitia. He returned them to me so I could discover what they are. I’ve been doing research in the library.” I showed Valek the book.

He took it from me and flipped through the pages. “Find anything?”

“Not yet.”

“Your actions as our fugitive must have impressed the Commander. Normally, he would have assigned this sort of thing to one of his science advisers.”

Valek’s words made me uncomfortable. I wasn’t convinced that I could discover the origin of the pods and beans. The idea of failing the Commander made me queasy. I changed the subject. “Where did the caravan go?”

Valek paused, undecided. Finally, he said, “Brazell’s new factory.” If Valek had been surprised by his discovery, it didn’t show on his face.

It occurred to me that despite all the discussion about Brazell’s permit, I didn’t know what he was planning to make. “What’s the product?”

“It’s supposed to be a feed mill.” Valek handed the book back to me. “And I don’t know why he would need those pods and beans. Maybe they’re a secret ingredient. Maybe they’re added to the feed to enhance the cow’s milk supply. Then every farmer would buy Brazell’s feed instead of growing his own. Or something along that line. Or maybe not. I’m not an expert.” Valek pulled at his hair. “I’ll have to study his permit to see what I’m missing. Either way, I assigned some of my corps to stake out the route and infiltrate the factory. At this point I need more information.”

“Brazell left the castle this afternoon.”

“I passed his retinue on my way back. Good. One less thing to worry about.”

Valek crossed to his desk and began sorting through his papers. I watched his back for a while, waiting. He didn’t mention my moving out. I finally worked up the nerve to ask. “Should I return to my old room now that Brazell’s gone?” I berated myself for my choice of words. I should have been firmer, but it was too late.

Valek stopped. I held my breath.

“No,” he said. “You’re still in danger. The magician hasn’t been dealt with yet.” His pen resumed its course over the paper.

Strong relief flushed through my body like a hot wave, alarming me. Why did I want to stay with him? Remaining was dangerous, illogical, and, by every argument I could muster, the worst situation for me. The book on magic was still hidden in my backpack, which went with me everywhere because I feared Valek would pull one of his stunts and surprise me.

Damn it, I thought, angry at myself. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about. I shouldn’t miss Valek; I should try harder to escape. I shouldn’t figure out the bean puzzle; I should sabotage it. I shouldn’t admire and respect him; I should vilify him. Shouldn’t, should, shouldn’t, should. So easy to say but so hard to believe.

“Exactly how do you deal with a magician?” I asked.

He turned around in his seat and looked at me. “I’ve told you before.”

“But their powers…”

“Have no effect on me. When I get close, I can feel their power pressing and vibrating on my skin, and moving toward them is like walking through thick syrup. It takes effort, but I always win in the end. Always.”

“How close?” Valek had been in the castle both times I had unknowingly used magic. Did Valek suspect?

“I have to be in the same room,” Valek said.

Relief washed through me. He didn’t know. At least, not yet. “Why didn’t you kill the southern magician at the festival?” I asked.

“Yelena, I’m not invincible. Fighting four men while she threw every ounce of her power at me was exhausting. Chasing her down would have been a fruitless endeavor.”

I thought about what he said. “Is being resistant to magic a form of magic?” I asked.

“No.” Valek’s face hardened.

“What about the knife?” I pointed to the long blade hanging on the wall. The crimson blood gleamed in the lantern light. In the three weeks I’d lived in Valek’s suite, it hadn’t dried.

Valek laughed. “That was the knife I used to kill the King. He was a magician. When his magic couldn’t stop me from plunging that knife into his heart, he cursed me with his dying breath. It was rather melodramatic. He willed that I should be plagued with guilt over his murder and have his blood stain my hands forever. With my peculiar immunity to magic, the curse attached to the knife instead of me.” Valek looked at the weapons wall thoughtfully. “It was a shame to lose my favorite blade, but it does make for a nice trophy.”