Mistress Of Masks (Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

well-lit interior. Past the vestibule, the floor was covered with rush mats and scattered with cushions for casual seating. The main furnishings were low tables and freestanding vases of lilies and cattails. A gentle breeze entered the space through tall slits in the high walls that let in sunlight and the soft noises of the outdoors.
    Eydis would have enjoyed the appealing surroundings if her head was not still spinning from the horror and strangeness of what had happened out on the terrace. The memory of that clay dog breaking into pieces and then all the little pieces becoming real strips of animal flesh was enough to make her stomach churn. She took deep breaths and forced herself to focus on something else. Anything else.
    The hall was largely empty, but here and there a few attendants went about their duties or conversed quietly in the corners. They didn’t wear their white robes indoors but were dressed, like Parthenia, in loose flowing wraps of patterned silk, gathered with fringed cords beneath their breasts. They also shared Parthenia’s hairstyle of a thick braid worn long down the back. It occurred to Eydis there was not a single male presence in the place.
    Parthenia seemed to read her mind. “Male pilgrims are welcome at the Pool of Tears and in the surrounding grove,” she explained grudgingly. “But only females are permitted within the temple. And of those, most are attendants.”
    Eydis seized gratefully on what seemed a safe subject. “Does the oracle never venture outside the temple?” she asked.
    “Rarely. She requires solitude to maintain uninterrupted harmony with the First Mother.”
    Eydis spoke thoughtlessly. “She must feel something like a prisoner within her own walls.”
    Parthenia flicked her a sidelong glance. “The oracle is not compelled to do anything against her will. Far from a prisoner, she is one of the most venerated seers in the land. With such great respect comes power. And responsibility. Even the highest adherents of the First Couple look to the oracle for guidance.”
    Eydis bit back a denial. It was true. Even the Head Hearer of the Shroudstone seclusionary, who was the most impressive person in Eydis’s acquaintance, respected the oracle’s link to the First Mother.
    Leaving the great chamber, they followed a short corridor that ended with a sturdy-looking door of granite or some other sparkling stone. This door, unlike the temple’s main entrance, seemed designed not for ornamental purposes but for strength. Eydis wondered if its function was to keep people in or out.
    Parthenia did not attempt to budge the thick door on her own. A pair of silent attendants stood as if on guard at either side of the entrance, and, at Parthenia’s gesture, it took the both of them to drag open the door.
    A wave of heat blasted out, as though they had just opened the door to an oven. Instantly, Eydis felt sweat forming on her upper lip.
    “The doors and walls of this chamber are thickly constructed,” Parthenia said, “to keep sound and extreme temperatures inside.”
    “Why?” Eydis asked, peering into the dimly lit interior. “What goes on in there?”
    “You will see soon enough.” Parthenia led the way into the chamber.
    Nervously, Eydis followed.
    This room was nothing like what she had seen of the rest of the temple. Where the outer hall had been light and airy, this space was filled with shadows, and the air was thick and oppressive. There were no windows for light or ventilation. The only illumination came from a series of lit braziers that cast off an eerie orange glow and set shadows dancing along the walls. It took a moment for Eydis’s eyes to adjust to the comparative darkness.
    The heat from the braziers was intense. Already she felt her clothing sticking damply to her skin. Even the smooth-faced Parthenia showed signs of discomfort, her skin glistening with moisture.
    And there was the oracle.
    She wasn’t what Eydis had imagined. There was nothing splendid or