Magic Study (23 page)

  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 power came from a deity, and if they tattooed their bodies and showed the proper respect, they would be granted greater power. Now we know better. I’ve seen some symbols painted on faces and hands before, but not like the ones on Tula’s attacker.”

  Leif pulled his black hair back behind his head with both hands. With his elbows jutting out past his face, his posture seemed so familiar. I felt like I could transport back to a time when my concerns only focused on what game to play next. The faint childhood memory dissolved with my efforts to concentrate on it.

  Tula covered her eyes, silent tears spilling down her cheeks. Reliving the kidnapping and the torment had to be grueling.

  “Get some rest,” Leif told her. “I’ll come back later. Perhaps Second Magician will know something about those symbols.” He left the room.

  The morning’s events had drained my own small supply of energy. I knew words would give no comfort to Tula, so I was relieved when Opal came in. Seeing her sister’s concern, Tula sobbed loudly, and Opal crawled into the bed with her, held Tula close and rocked her like a baby. I fell asleep listening to Tula purge her body of the masked man’s poison.

  We had visitors throughout the rest of the day. Cahil came, smelling of the barn.

  “How’s Kiki?” I asked, missing her. Even though my connection with her remained, I couldn’t produce enough power to hear her thoughts.

  “A little agitated. All the horses are. The Stable Master’s been in one of his tempers. Horses take their cues from people’s emotions. If a rider is nervous, then the horse will be, too.” Cahil shook his head. “I still have a hard time believing you can communicate with them. Guess today is just one of those days where my notions are proven wrong.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I thought you were an overconfident braggart when you said you could help Tula. But you did it.” Cahil studied me.

  I conceded the overconfidence title. My rescue of Commander Ambrose’s soul had seemed easy in comparison to Tula’s, but I had forgotten that Irys had been with me in the Commander’s room, and it had been his superior fighting skills and determination that had gotten us free of his demons.

  “You almost killed yourself saving Tula, though,” Cahil said. “Was it worth the risk to prove me wrong again?”

  “My motivations weren’t selfish,” I snapped at him. “I wanted to help her. I understood what she’s been through and I knew she needed me. Once I had an idea about how I could find her, I didn’t stop to think. I just reacted.”

  “And the danger to yourself never entered your mind?”

  “Not this time.” I sighed at his aghast expression.

  “You have put yourself in danger for others before?”

  “I
was
the Commander’s food taster.” This was common knowledge, unlike my role in stopping Brazell.

  Cahil nodded. “A perfect position to overhear the Commander’s plans. He used you as a shield. You should want to help overthrow him. Why do you hold such loyalty for him?” Frustration roughened his voice.

  “Because of my position, I saw through his reputation. I witnessed kindness and a deep concern for his people. He didn’t abuse his power, and, while he is far from perfect, he always stayed faithful to his beliefs. Reliable and true to his word, you never had to guess at hidden meanings or suspect duplicity from him.”

  His stubbornness refused to soften. “You’ve been brainwashed, Yelena. Hopefully, you’ll regain some sense after living in Sitia for a while.” Cahil left without waiting for a reply.

  Our conversation had drained me. I drifted in and out of an uneasy sleep the rest of that afternoon. The masked man invaded my dreams, hunting me through a thick jungle.

  Toward evening Dax Greenblade surged into the room, energizing the air.

  “You look like hell,” he said to me in a low voice. Tula and Opal had fallen asleep in Tula’s narrow bed.

  “Gee, Dax, don’t coat it with honey. Tell me what you really think,” I said.

  He covered his mouth to mute his laughter. “I figured I’d hit you while you were down, because once you hear the rumors that have been flying through the campus like bare feet on hot sand, your ego will think it’s a compliment.” In a grand gesture, Dax swept his arms into the air. “You have become a legend!”

  “A legend? Me?” Disbelief colored my voice.

  “A scary legend,” he amended, “but a legend all the same.”

  “Come on! How gullible do you think I am?”

  “Simple enough to think you can find someone’s consciousness alone.” Dax waved a hand over my bed. “Although, it’s not so stupid if this was an attempt to get out of class. But if you see your fellow students scurrying to get out of your way, now you know why. Here comes Yelena, the all powerful Soulfinder!”

  I threw my pillow at Dax. His magic brushed my skin as the pillow veered to the right and struck the wall with a soft thump before sliding to the floor. I glanced at the girls. They appeared to be asleep.

  “Now you’re exaggerating,” I said.

  “Can you blame me? Cursed with the ability to read and speak archaic languages, Master Bain has me translating ancient history. Very dry and dull.” Dax retrieved my pillow and even fluffed it before returning it to me.

  When Leif entered the room carrying a large square box, Dax leaned close to me and whispered, “Speaking of dull…”

  I suppressed a chuckle. Dax left as Leif began to unpack small brown vials. The clink of glass woke Tula and Opal. Tula eyed the bottles with obvious alarm.

  “What are those?” I asked Leif.

  “Scent vials,” he said. “Each one contains a specific odor. Mother and Father helped me make these. Smells trigger memories, which aid me in finding criminals. But I figured I could use this kit as a start in determining the ointment that Tula’s attacker used.”

  Interested, Tula tried to sit up. Opal got off the bed to help her. Leif rummaged through his collection of about thirty vials until he had lined up ten of them.

  “We’ll try these first.” He uncorked one and passed it under my nose. “Breathe normally.”

  I wrinkled my nose and sneezed. “No. That’s awful.”

  A small smile touched Leif’s face as he put that vial away.

  “Leif?” Tula asked. “What about me?”

  He hesitated. “You’ve done so much already; I didn’t want to exhaust you.”

  “I want to help, too. Better than lying here doing nothing.”

  “All right.” He had us sniff three more vials. Tula and I each smelled different ones, and then we took a break for dinner.

  “Too many scents will give you a headache, and you won’t be able to tell the difference between them after a while,” he explained.

  Leif spent the evening with us. My interest began to wane, but he kept at it even when he neared the bottom of the box. I was on the edge of sleep when a sharp odor jolted me.

  Leif held an uncorked bottle. Tula cowered in her bed, her hands raised as though she tried to deflect a blow. Leif squinted in confusion.

  “That’s it,” I cried. “Can’t you smell it?”

  He passed the vial under his nose, breathing in the pungent scent. Then he shoved the cork back in, flipped the bottle over, and read the label. He stared at me in shock.

  “It makes perfect sense!” His mouth opened in horror.

  “What?” I demanded. “Tell me.”

  “It’s Curare.” When he saw my confusion he continued, “Comes from a vine that grows in the Illiais Jungle. It paralyzes the muscles. It’s great for numbing toothaches, and for relieving minor pain. To freeze a whole body, the medicine would have to be very concentrated.” Leif’s eyes flashed in dismay.

  “Why are you so upset?” I asked. “Now you know what it is. Isn’t that good?”

  “Curare was rediscovered just last year. Only a handful of Zaltanas know about its properties. Our clan likes to know everything about a substance before selling it to others.”

  Understanding flooded my mind. Leif believed that the red-painted man could be from our clan.

  “Who found the Curare?” I asked.

  Still upset, Leif turned the vial in his hands.

  “Father,” he said. “And the only person I can think of who has the skills to concentrate the Curare enough to paralyze a whole body, is Mother.”

Chapter Eighteen

  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.