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 acted 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.