Impossible Things Read Online Free PDF Page A

Five, maybe. They simply hadn’t been able to account for everyone.
    ‘All right, Ishtaer. How about this. How old are you?’
    She brightened a bit at the use of her name. No, brightened wasn’t the right word. She seemed to become more solid, more real. More alive.
    ‘I think …’ she trailed off, and he saw her fingers tapping against her palm as if she was counting. ‘I think … twenty?’
    She still cowered as she said it, as if she expected this to be the wrong answer. Kael let it slide. ‘Twenty it is.’ Which would make her maybe sixteen at the time of the riots. No Chosen would have gone missing without someone creating a stink, the type of news he or Verak would certainly have been privy to, which meant she’d have to have been unmarked at the time. She thought she’d been marked for seven years, but then she also thought her marks were tattoos and that her beloved Ladyship was her benefactor. Samara had really done a number on her.
    Sixteen was a little old to have come into her first mark, but not unheard of. It was possible she’d been from an old family who hadn’t produced a Chosen in generations, forgotten outside the pages of the Book of Names, or perhaps that she was just too old to be expected to manifest a mark. Or maybe both.
    It shouldn’t be hard to track an Ishtaer on the lists of the missing after those riots. The thought cheered him. He might even be able to reunite her with her family. Although what the hell he’d tell them about where he found her he had no idea.
    ‘Right then, twenty-year-old Ishtaer who may or may not be from Draxos, I’ll ask you again. Do you want to come with me?’
    She was still a moment, then said, ‘Away from here?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Away from Ladyship?’
    He ground his teeth. ‘Yes.’
    A longer pause, then Ishtaer whispered, ‘She’ll kill me.’
    He said nothing, waiting for her answer. Waiting, it seemed, forever.
    When she spoke her voice was almost inaudible, and her whole body shook as if the words had to be forced from her, pushed past some impossible barrier.
    ‘I want to leave. I want to get away from this place. I want—’
    Then she ran out of things to say, and her body slumped as if she couldn’t continue the effort of speaking any more. It seemed to Kael as if it had taken all her energy to say those words, to even think them. What had Samara done to this girl to break down even the thoughts inside her own head?
    ‘Right.’ He felt more relieved than he’d expected. ‘Good, then. We’ll leave as soon as things are packed up. Smuggle you out. Shouldn’t be hard, she already thinks you’re dead.’
    She shook her head. ‘She’ll want to see me. A body.’
    ‘Well then. Close your eyes and play dead.’
    Another shake. ‘She won’t …’ Then she seemed to pull herself together, and her head came up. ‘I know a concoction. Herbal. It makes you look dead. Unconscious. Slows the heart right down. No breathing. She wouldn’t be able to tell …’
    Kael frowned. ‘Is that necessary?’
    Ishtaer flinched. ‘She doesn’t like to lose,’ she said quietly.
    It was eerie, how still and limp she became after drinking her carefully mixed potion. Kael and Verak had watched her mix it, and the older man had stopped Kael from interfering about five times when he simply couldn’t believe she knew what she was doing.
    ‘You can’t even see what you’re putting in there!’ he exploded.
    ‘No, my lord.’ She added a pinch of some herbs that looked identical to at least three other kinds set out before her.
    ‘So how do you know—’
    ‘I assume she’s familiar with the texture,’ Verak said, in the same voice he used to quell arguments between his children. ‘And the smell, perhaps, Ishtaer?’
    She nodded, concentrating on what she was doing. If nothing else, Kael really couldn’t doubt that she was a Healer now. The frightened wretch who’d cowered from him and begged to stay had vanished, leaving behind a calm