登陆注册
10432500000011

第11章

Amara had to tell Maart what she'd heard.

Maart was gathering water, and Amara had asked Jorn for permission to wash her clothes, which were crusted from blood where the arrows had hit her. "Just stay near enough that I can call you," he'd said, and she'd bolted outside, down the road leading into the woods. Under torn branches and dirt and leaves everywhere she looked, tree roots had burst through, displacing slabs of stone. She couldn't tell how much of the mess was from the storm and how much from neglect. No one took this path, Jorn had said, not now that Teschel was one of the few islands with an airtrain.

Amara jogged around a fallen tree blocking the path. Enough earth clung to the roots to fill half the granary. The storm had been brief but intense, as backlash always was.

A punishment from the spirits, some people said, for abusing their power. Others said the spirits simply put the world back in balance after mages knocked it down and drained it dry.

The end result was the same: storms and quakes and a hundred things more. If those were punishments, all the smaller, immediate instances of backlash-water frothing, flames flickering, bugs spasming, and plants wilting-must be warnings. The ministers didn't care to listen.

"Mar?" she called aloud once near the creek. Despite the post-storm chill, sweat pricked at the base of her skull and pooled by her hip, where her sidesling rested. Overturned earth warned her of boar, and when bushes nearby rustled, she tensed, relaxing only when a tall shape stepped out.

"We need to talk," she signed.

Maart lowered the buckets he'd been filling to the ground and ran his fingers over her arm, spreading a tingly-hot feeling. He kissed her forehead, then stepped back. They needed room to sign. "About your blackouts?"

She told him what she'd overheard. What it meant. "We have to find out what they're doing," she said, her hands fluttering. "How long they've been working together. We have to tell Cilla."

"Cilla is your priority?" The way he signed the name bordered on revulsion even as his face stayed stony.

"I didn't say that."

"It doesn't matter what Jorn's doing or why. All right?"

She shook her head and looked past him at the forest-leaves dripping with rain, the sky still dark overhead. Early winterbugs scurried in solid clouds between the trees. Storm-damaged mushrooms the size of Amara's head bulged from the ground and bark.

"You can't stay for her," he signed.

"We've talked about this." She stepped away. Her boots sank in the mud. "It's not about putting her on the throne. There's nowhere we can go."

"Is that all it is?"

"Just say it," Amara said. Then she wouldn't be the one to bring it up. She could deny it and be done with it.

"I see how Cilla looks at you."

How-how Cilla looked at her? She breathed deeply, the warm scent of moss filling her nostrils, and moved her hands carefully. "How's that?"

"Why?" Maart asked. "Does it matter to you?"

"Don't be like this. Don't play games."

He twisted his lips into a smile. "We used to talk about her. We used to hate her."

"It's not that simple. Before you came, Cilla and I played games together. The servant before you was older; Cilla was the only person close to my age I knew. The only friend I had."

"And now?"

"Now I have you. Is that what you want to hear? Now I understand that Cilla and I can't be friends."

"Do you want to be?"

"It would not end well," Amara said.

"But do you want it to?" Normally at this point Maart grew frustrated. Now, his signs only became smaller, turning his question into a plea.

"I care about you. All right?" Amara stepped in and pressed her lips to his. They lingered in the kiss, staving away the chill, which rolled back in the moment they separated. Amara wanted to wrap her arms around herself, rub away that goose-flesh, but couldn't while they still talked. "That's what I want," she said once there was enough room between them. It was true. She wanted Maart. She wanted his teasing and his wide grins and his full lips and the way he'd squirm and laugh when she trailed kisses along his hipbone.

She didn't want these endless arguments.

"I want you, too." Maart pressed his forehead to hers, and she bowed her head to see his signing, pressed close and awkward between their bodies. "You and me, away from them. That's all I want."

Amara wished she could say the same thing back.

Leaves rustled. She jolted away, turning toward the noise. Jorn stood near an oak, one hand on its wet bark. If he'd seen her and Maart together, he didn't show it. "Amara. I felt an intrusion. It's probably just a mage dealing with damage from the backlash, but we should be sure. Go check."

"Cilla-" Amara started to sign.

"Maart and I will look after her. If there's danger, I'll take them into the woods." He pointed to the path. "Come back the second you know more."

This wasn't right. They each had their tasks, and this wasn't hers.

"You said Cilla should avoid forests in emergencies," she said. "There's a beach nearby. It's safer." She should listen, not dumbly sign objections-but this was about Cilla. This was her task.

"That's stupid." Jorn sniffed. "With open ground like the beach, hired mages would have a field day shooting at her. And they'd have the full Gray Sea at their bidding for power. No. We'll go inland."

If Cilla ran, the branches would tear open her skin within seconds. Why would Jorn change his mind?

"I have to go back to Cilla. I've already lowered the boundary spell. Go!" Jorn shoved her toward the road.

She wasn't supposed to leave Cilla.

It had to be the blackouts. Jorn no longer trusted her.

Before Jorn could see her dawdling, Amara tossed her sidesling at Maart and took off, boots slapping muddy leaves. The forest smelled of moldy mushrooms and wet soil, mixed with pine and the occasional, almost-gone scent of chrysanths, bursts of white flowers fighting to be seen in the few sunlit gaps between trees. The layer of leaves under her feet-deep reds and burned yellows and faded browns-was so thick and moist that she almost slipped. She dashed around trees, slowing only when she reached the road. Her boots were too loud on the stones. She stopped, silent, listening. They'd never had mages tracking them so soon after moving. They'd only been on Teschel since last night.

She didn't hear anything. She moved farther in the direction Jorn had indicated, but she stayed close to the side of the road, ready to dive to safety-then she did hear something, a woman's voice, to her left. Amara peered through the trees. After a second, she saw movement. A flash of thick curls. Dit? "-give me-" the woman murmured.

Amara came closer, careful to avoid branches. Leaves were harder to dodge. At least they were wet, less noisy than usual when they crumpled underfoot. If the woman heard her, she didn't seem to care.

"I have to help. Please forgive me."

Peering past a tree, Amara spotted the woman. She was leaning forward, both hands on a slab of polished stone held up by blocks of rock on each side. Underneath the rock lay a small, still pond, perhaps the size of a table.

A temple. An old one, judging by the dirt-brown moss creeping across the rocks, but a temple nonetheless.

The Dit mage stood still, as if listening. Amara pressed her hands to her hair to keep it from wafting out past the tree. The wind had picked up again. The woman wasn't listening for her, though. Jorn had told her this, years ago. Mages would draw on the spirits for spells, then read their response in the rustling of trees, the rush of water rubbing against the shore.

Amara had almost forgotten that the topic of magic hadn't always been off-limits.

She tried to listen, too. All she heard was the wind.

The mage pulled her hands brusquely off the rock and turned back to the path. Behind her tree, Amara stood as still as the dead, listening as the woman's footsteps broke into a run, moving away from the granary.

The mage wasn't after Cilla. Backlash cleanup, just as Jorn had said. Amara should go back and tell him. But… she'd been searching for a plan. She could ask this mage-a stranger, someone who wouldn't tell Jorn-about the blackouts.

Amara ran. For the next minute she followed the woman through the woods, diving behind this tree and that, until a pair of silver rails sitting on raised earth abruptly bisected the road.

A moment later, Amara smelled something burning. Carefully, she moved closer to the rails. The trees thinned, robbing her of cover. The smell strengthened. Her own hands had stunk the same way yesterday.

She shivered. The sensation ran down her spine again and again. She pressed clammy hands together and made herself step through the trees so she could see down the rails in both directions.

The airtrain stood a stone's throw away, gleaming metal except for a massive black stain on one side. That explained why it had stopped. Amara saw movement through the windows. She sneaked closer, until the voices drifting through the windows formed words.

"Lightning," someone was whispering. "Lightning."

"Just stay calm," the Dit mage said. Amara saw the back of her head through the windows now, moving around, then dipping out of sight. "I'll help you. All right?"

The voice kept whispering. A different voice said, "My father. How's my father?" When the mage didn't respond, a sob tore through the man's words. "The weather was fine before-when-how is he?"

"It wasn't me," the mage said. Even from this distance, without seeing her face, Amara felt her irritation. "I haven't used magic in months. I'm oath-bound. But I'll get you to the carecenter, all right? Just let me put my hands here… This'll hurt, but I need to…"

"Your magic will make it worse," the man said.

"I've already prayed. The spirits might allow it. I'll need a moment. Oh, curse the ministers!"

The breeze carried more of the burning-flesh stink. Amara fought back a gag. She approached, anyway, climbing over a fallen tree, hiding behind another one. If the mage was against the ministers, maybe she'd be safe to talk to. Amara hadn't been sure. The Dunelands ministers had roots in every corner of the world, but the Dit were their strongest supporters-more out of spite against the Alineans than anything else. Jorn was an exception.

She'd always thought so, anyway.

The Dit mage disappeared from the windows. Amara peeked around the tree. A moment later, the mage stood in the pried-open train doors, stunned, looking exactly at where Amara hid.

"A spirit. You're a spirit." The mage stepped from the train. The earth squelched underfoot.

Amara should pull back. Run. Anything but stand here, half-hidden behind a tree, watching that mage with a single eye. If Jorn knew…

The mage went on. "No. You used to be? Were you possessed by one? But there's still… There's a presence…"

A presence. Ruudde's words echoed: Whoever's causing this will catch on and try again.

"Can we talk?"

A passenger stumbling from the train drew the mage's attention, but only for a moment, as if afraid Amara would disappear if she looked away for too long.

Amara's signing would give her away. If the mage didn't rat her out, the airtrain's passengers might. This had been a stupid idea, stupid and dangerous.

And that stink of flesh was so, so intense.

She pressed a hand to her mouth, turned, ran, left the mage's shouts behind, forgot all about stealth and silence. The mage wouldn't follow-she wouldn't abandon the injured passengers-but Amara couldn't slow. The smell stuck to her hands. Stuck to everything.

She only had to return to Jorn and pretend nothing happened, and…

That'd get her nowhere.

She stopped. Took a quarter turn. Stormed through a layer of wet leaves. Thorns and burrs clung to her winterwear. She found the temple within a minute, spotting faded stone that blended perfectly into the colorless, storm-drenched woods; if she hadn't known it was there, she'd have looked right past it.

She'd always thought that if she prayed at a true temple, perhaps the spirits would forgive Jorn's magic use and prevent accidents like the airtrain's. He never prayed, to the point that Amara wondered if he'd ever sworn a mage's oath in the first place. She'd asked him about it, back when he'd allowed questions, when sometimes he'd even smiled and indulged her. He didn't pray at temples, he'd explained, because hired mages like the knifewielder might set a trap for him. He didn't need to pray, besides: temple or no temple, the spirits understood why he called on them so often.

Amara always suspected it was nonsense, but that hadn't stopped her from hoping that, if the spirits listened no matter what, sketching misshapen buildings in the dirt still stood a chance of catching their attention.

She crouched, steadying herself with one hand on the temple's stone. She'd never touched a temple before. It felt icy cold. Let this work, she thought. Let the mage come back.

She searched around half-rotted leaves for a chalky piece of stone, and slowly, carefully, drew it against the temple. Even with ink she struggled to mimic Cilla's letters, let alone with a rock this blunt, but she remembered the basics.

Mage, she wrote blockily, the chalk cold in her hands. Then, Spirit airtrain. Need talk. She'd probably misspelled it. The mage would understand, though, wouldn't she? Market, she wrote next. Maart had a trip scheduled tomorrow. Market stallkeepers were so busy that you could get away with pointing and never speaking a word.

She'd find a way to go in his stead.

Amara stared at her letters with a mixture of pride and fear.

同类推荐
  • Once Upon a Crime (The Sisters Grimm #4)

    Once Upon a Crime (The Sisters Grimm #4)

    Fans of fractured fairy tales will be delighted to discover the fantasy, mystery, adventure, and humor in the beloved New York Times bestselling Sisters Grimm series by Michael Buckley, now with new cover art. The nine wildly popular books are favorites around the world. They were among the first books to bring a distinctly girl-power spin to fairy tales—a trend followed by hit television series and movies such as Grimm and Maleficent; the bestselling book series the Land of Stories; and more. Now, books one through six in this smash-hit series appear with new covers, with books seven, eight, and nine available as revised editions soon.
  • Let's Get This Party Started

    Let's Get This Party Started

    Let's Get This Party Started is a guide to more than 15 parties you can throw for your kids that are inexpensive, wildly inventive, and fun. Each party includes two crafts, one game, and one recipeall of which you can put together with your child. Author Soleil Moon Frye also offers countless tips and ideas that will inspire you. Among the thematic parties featured in the book are the fairy party, the pirate party, the movie-on-the-lawn party, the camp party, the '80s party, the rainbow party, the Halloween party, the luau, and many more, captured in gorgeous and colorful images by Frye's brother, photographer Meeno. Timely and fun, this book is a must-have for parents who love entertaining with their kids. Praise for Let's Get This Party Started: Quality children's party books are high in demand, so this may be a welcome resource for families with young children … Recommended."Library Journal
  • New and Selected Poems

    New and Selected Poems

    This volume contains a selection of work from each of Seamus Heaney's published books of poetry up to and including the Whitbread prize-winning collection, "e;The Haw Lantern"e; (1987). 'His is 'close-up' poetry - close up to thought, to the world, to the emotions. Few writers at work today, in verse or fiction, can give the sense of rich, fecund, lived life that Heaney does' - John Banville. 'More than any other poet since Wordsworth he can make us understand that the outside world is not outside, but what we are made of' - John Carey.
  • Hiroshima Mon Amour

    Hiroshima Mon Amour

    One of the most influential works in the history of cinema, Alain Renais's Hiroshima Mon Amour gathered international acclaim upon its release in 1959 and was awarded the International Critics' Prize at the Cannes Film festival and the New York Film Critics' Award. Ostensibly the story of a love affair between a Japanese architect and a French actress visiting Japan to make a film on peace, Hiroshima Mon Amour is a stunning exploration of the influence of war on both Japanese and French culture and the conflict between love and inhumanity.
  • The Fairy-Tale Detectives (The Sisters Grimm #1)
热门推荐
  • 博弈游戏

    博弈游戏

    博弈是一种策略的相互依存状况:你的选择将会得到什么结果,取决于另一个或者另一群有目的行动者的选择。人生是永不停息的博弈过程。作为博弈者,最佳策略是最大程度地利用游戏规则;作为社会的最佳策略,是通过规则引导社会整体福利的增加。著名经济家保罗·萨缪尔森说:“要想在现代社会做一个有文化的人,你必须对博弈论有一个大致了解。”
  • 围猎黑色星期五

    围猎黑色星期五

    曾经,她也年轻貌美。她本可以拥有似锦的前程,直到他们在一瞬间夺走了全部。他怀着一颗充满仇恨的心出生,过着冷漠、无爱的生活。直到他找到一个继续生活的理由。这两个世界相撞之时,安全特工尼克.萨瓦斯发现,一次足以摧毁英国政府的密谋即将展开,他的时间紧迫;而记者林赛·米歇尔则发现,一个黑暗至极的星期五即将降临于上议院。她越接近真相,自己及身边的人就越危险。从贫穷落后的哥伦比亚波哥大街道,到威斯敏斯特和白厅的权利殿堂;从爱尔兰岛迎风而立的科林山脉,到特内里弗岛的松树林;黑色星期五的阴影无所不在。
  • 断背少爷的哑妻

    断背少爷的哑妻

    “钱小姐,实际上我不喜欢女人。”钱佳佳不禁睁大双眼,不喜欢女人?这什么意思?不喜欢女人,难道喜欢男人?“没错,你猜得很对,我喜欢男人。”身为哑女的钱佳佳,通过相亲认识了温文尔雅的贾瑞。两人因为各取所需,达成了一份婚姻协议,成为了一对有名无实的假夫妻。
  • 执行重在到位

    执行重在到位

    执行到位决定企业的成功,任何企业的成功都必然是执行力的成功;执行到位决定竞争力的强弱,直接影响到企业的生存和发展;执行到位决定企业的生存力和发展力,决定企业的兴衰与成败;管理者的执行到位决定公司的执行力,个人的执行到位则是个人成功的关键;注执行到位就是关注企业和个人的成功!本书从“执行重在到位”的角度出发,一针见血地阐述了执行不到位的种种危害和表现,提出了“执行到位的四大心态、三大检验标准”,以及“如何执行的三大保障”,并针对如何提高员工执行力给出了中肯的建议和有效的方法,对企业人员有着非常重要的指导作用。
  • 佛说大乘流转诸有经

    佛说大乘流转诸有经

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
  • 海贼之拾卡者

    海贼之拾卡者

    快快乐乐捡张卡,轻轻松松泡个妞,为啥你们都要和我玩命,咧?汉库克:“离开我的浴室,不然就变成石头吧,混蛋!”(?ω?)“好,不过我得先摸摸你。”战国:“让我的山羊腹泻不止,你还想逃跑!”“嘁,吃草才是王道!鬼知道会消化不良啊!”卡普:“还我的孙媳妇啊!混蛋!”“略略略,来追哇!八嘎。”
  • 名侦探推理破奇案

    名侦探推理破奇案

    本书中的故事内容虽然简短,却趣味横生;作为向自己的脑力挑战的媒介,毫不逊色于一般的侦探故事。本书包括了“古坟里的谋杀”、“印花上的毒药”、“风流作曲家之死”等等精彩的奇案。
  • 酒香田园

    酒香田园

    冰冷无情的杀手女:挡我者死,所有对不起我的都该死!恨意难消的重生女:前世猪油蒙了心,误把鱼目当珍珠,才会落到那般下场,既然老天爷怜悯让我重活一世,那我定有恩报恩,有仇报仇!心高气傲的穿书女:上天竟然让我穿越到这里,那我就是这个世界的女主,挡我路者,一个不留!末世穿越的柳媚儿:那个,你们慢慢斗哈~,我就想过点发家致富的小日子而已。众人异口同声:不行!!!柳媚儿握拳:老虎不发威,你们当我是病猫啊!来啊!PS:无CP文。上部:《酒香田园》下部:《凤起田园》
  • 辽东志

    辽东志

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
  • 天才御兽师

    天才御兽师

    寒无邪——亦正亦邪,一曲笑天,万兽诚服!她是所有仙人眼中的仙界废柴,在父亲家族受尽白眼,被赶出家族后,她却发现,她的身上拥有强大的神秘力量——上古天赋!选本命法宝之日,被所有人取笑的废物戒指,竟是上古神器,内有妖孽至极的——美男器灵!她的一身仙骨,引来无数兽类想要吃她,她的天赋竟可以让灵兽、仙兽、神兽从琴音中得到修为提升,在琴音提升修为的诱惑之下,兽兽们竟一个个死皮赖脸的缠着她!-----花海中突然发出一道冲天的蓝色光束,像是什么从花海中诞生,天邪小心的靠近花海中间,目光瞬间呆住……乌黑的发丝犹如丝绸般柔美,未着衣衫的完美身躯被长发半遮半掩,白皙如凝脂的肌肤带着点点星光,高挑的身材,完美的身形,只是一个背影,就已经让万花失色。“你是谁!”她始终只是一个五岁的孩子,瞬间面红耳赤,害羞的转过身去。“你不是说我藏头藏尾的吗?现在能够看得见我了,为何还要转过身去?”邪魅的声音带着一丝微醺的蛊惑,蓝色的眸中闪过一丝悲伤,但他很快就掩饰去了眼中的悲伤,“我是这枚戒指的器灵。”【一滴泪,解开尘封千万年的封印,千万年孤寂的灵魂,终于不再寂寞,他以为那只是预言成真,却不记得,一开始这就是他成为器灵的目的,只为等她的出现。】-----雪白无害的小兔子,化身成为萌男,眨着闪亮蛊惑的大眼睛,“主人,我饿了,让我‘咬’一口!”冰狐化身成为绝美的冰山美男,极其别扭道:“你的琴弹得不错,只要每天弹一曲给我听,我便…随便你怎么样!”哗啦一身,衣衫尽去,一脸视死如归,献身求曲状。金鹰化身为金色戎装的神武美男,男人味十足道:“主人,我会誓死保护你!不过”他的眸中闪过一丝阴谋的光芒,眯起眼睛道:“先得让我‘美餐’一顿!饿着,可没力气保护你!”鹿王化身的温柔美男,挂着和煦的微笑,解开腰带,缓步逼近,腼腆道:“对你的内疚,不知如何弥补,我想了很久,也许这……才是最好的弥补方式!”妖孽的蛇王,眯着至毒至魅的双眸,吐出舌头舔了舔下唇,一脸饥肠辘辘:“要是一个男的弹出如此好的琴音,本王还没兴趣呢!本王愿意跟着你,对你可是莫大的恩赐,你敢不要我!”【如此兽兽,层出不穷……】-----“她在五岁时,我就定下了!从小萝莉好不容易调教成万人迷!谁也不能动她!只有我可以‘吃’她!”啪啪啪,N个耳光,火山爆发后,一个个美男变回可怜的兽形。