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.Go on—take yourselves back to Xian lands.We want none of you.”Selei’s eyes narrowed.“As you wish.” She turned, shoulders stiff, and waved Xinai and Riuh toward the jungle.When Riuh would have protested, she cut him off.“No.It’s their decision.”As they walked, she glanced over her shoulder and whispered something Xinai couldn’t hear.“Go on,” Selei said.“The sooner you find that mine, the better.I wish I could go with you, but I’d only slow you.I’ll wait for you in Cay Lin.”Riuh stooped to kiss her cheek.“We won’t let you down, Grandmother.”The air chilled, prickling the back of Xinai’s neck.She looked for Shaiyung, but saw nothing except a light mist curling across the ground.“Selei, what’s happening?” Tendrils of fog writhed toward the village.“They made their choice, child.You should go.Don’t turn back, whatever you hear.”“But what—”“Go.There’s nothing left here you need to see.”Xinai hesitated, but Riuh caught her elbow and steered her gently toward the path.Gooseflesh roughened her arms and legs as the cold intensified.They were deep into the jungle when she heard the first scream.Riuh stiffened but kept moving.She tried to pretend it was only another pig.Chapter 12Zhirin paced.Her head was still achy and muddled from crying, and movement didn’t help, but she couldn’t sit still.Every time she did, the images caught up with her: blood in the water, drowning screams, Vasilios’s black and swollen face.She scrubbed a hand across her eyes as fresh tears welled.But she couldn’t hide in her room forever either.Her mother had knocked three times already and eventually she’d demand Zhirin answer.She paused beside her window, leaned her forehead against the cool glass.Raindrops trickled down the pane, fat beads of rain darkening the stone and trickling through the gutters before eventually joining the river.Zhirin wished she could lose herself in the water so easily.Already the current rolled on, washing away the blood and corpses, easing the shock of shattered stone; the river took all the pain.She straightened, wiping the oily smudge of her skin off the expensive glass.Nearly noon—she had to go downstairs sooner or later.She rubbed her eyes again and opened her wardrobe, wafting the fragrance of imported cedar into the air.It had been a long time since she’d worn her mourning clothes, but they were still tucked inside, gray trousers and long blouse.Her mother would never let her leave the house with ashes in her hair.After dressing and twisting her tangled hair up in sticks, Zhirin eased open her bedroom door.The third floor was quiet, no lamps burning against the rainy gloom.Rain-streaked windows cast rippling shadows over the tiles at the end of the hall.On the second floor she heard soft voices from her mother’s study.She shook her head at the familiarity of it—had it been only seven days since she’d last come home? This time, she paused outside the door and listened.“When will your next shipment be ready?” Fei Minh asked.“At this rate, who knows?” Porcelain clinked and Faraj sighed; Zhirin was becoming far too familiar with the sound of his muffled voice.“I can’t just order my ships to sit in harbor all season.People will talk.Not to mention the money I’d lose.”“We’ll lose more than money if this fails.And we only need one ship.”Zhirin swallowed; the pit of her stomach chilled, but she was too tired for true shock.Oh, Mira.Not you too.“The Yhan Ti,” Fei Minh said after a moment.“She’s dry-docked anyway.I’ll tell the captain to take her time with the repairs.” A cup rattled against a saucer.“You have to do something about these terrorists, Faraj.My daughter could have been killed.”The fierce protectiveness in her mother’s voice made Zhirin’s eyes sting again.She pressed a hand over her trembling mouth to stifle a sob.Swallowing tears, she knocked on the door and pushed it open.Her mother rose, and Faraj set aside his cup.“Darling—” Fei Minh raised a hand, let it fall again.“Do you know yet?” she asked Faraj.“Who murdered Vasilios?”“No.Asheris is investigating.Do you know anything that might help him?”“They asked me that last night.No.He was…a good mage.A good master.An old man.” Her voice sounded hollow; she was hollow.No blushing now, no stammering.Was this how Isyllt did it? Scrape out everything that mattered, leave nothing but the cold?“I’m sorry,” Faraj said, not meeting her eyes [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]