Mistress Of Masks (Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

elegant about her. She sat cross-legged, head bowed and eyes closed, her four arms folded in a meditative pose. A thin black veil rested on her head but did little to cover its baldness. She wore a simple loincloth and a rough strip of fabric binding her chest. There was nothing else to cover her violet hued skin, except a pale pattern of painted designs and a wealth of brass bangles around her wrists and above her elbows. A matching brass collar fit around her neck.
    She sat on a slightly raised platform, surrounded by a circle of heaped coals. Puffs of steam rose around her from grates in the floor. There was only one clear path to approach her, and this was the one Server Parthenia took, weaving between the hot embers. Eydis followed at a distance, unsure of protocol and reluctant to be any nearer than necessary to the heat sources. How could the oracle endure them?
    “Child Parthenia,” the oracle greeted her server, without looking up. “I sense turmoil within you.” Her voice was surprisingly high, and Eydis realized that beneath all her body paint and jewelry she couldn’t be more than fourteen years of age. Yet her voice and bearing emanated intelligence and strength.
    “Yes, Your Wisdom,” Parthenia answered. “I have brought with me a pilgrim I believe you will wish to see. She nearly drowned while having a vision in the pool, but the pool guardians carried her to the surface and one of them revived her.”
    The oracle’s lashless eyes flicked open—eyes that might have belonged to a night creature. They were solid black, without colored rings or white edges. Firelight reflected in their depths as they lazily surveyed Eydis.
    Eydis found herself staring back just as openly at the startling visage before her and forced herself to avert her gaze.
    “You think me freakish and ill-formed?”
    Eydis hesitated, uncertain whether it was she or Server Parthenia the oracle addressed with the unexpected question. At Parthenia’s impatient hand motion, she answered, “No, Great Oracle. I would never presume to think such a thing.”
    “Would you not?” the oracle’s voice was doubtful. “Others have thought it. My own kin abandoned me at birth, leaving me exposed in the grove. If others had not recognized me as light-touched and taken me in, I would not have survived.”
    Eydis didn’t know what to say to such a confession. “Your family was foolish not to have seen your great worth,” she said. “Your insight and virtue radiate like a flame from within.”
    The oracle’s mouth twitched in a cold imitation of a smile. “Your words are pretty, Pilgrim. But you know nothing of my knowledge or goodness.”
    Eydis said, “I know you are a great oracle, revered across Lythnia for the power of foresight. I know that such powers could come only from the First Mother herself.”
    Parthenia scowled, and Eydis took that as a sign she was talking too much.
    But the oracle did not seem to mind. “You’re an unusual young woman, Eydis Ironmonger. Born the daughter of an insignificant metal dealer, impoverished and brought up among beggars and street thieves, you’ve risen above your origins. You’ve bettered your lot in life by procuring an education and a home among the adherents at Shroudstone.”
    Eydis knew she shouldn’t be surprised the oracle could read her past with a single sweeping glance. But it was difficult not to feel startled. And threatened. With an effort, she kept her face expressionless.
    “You have a talent for masking your emotions,” the oracle observed. “No doubt subterfuge was necessary to your survival as a child of the streets. But you cannot hide your feelings from me. I am not to be fooled.”
    “Of course not, Your Wisdom,” Eydis said coolly.
    The oracle’s gaze slide to Parthenia. “I can feel that Server Parthenia is distressed by something… Something more than the vision you were granted in the Pool of Tears. You must know visions are not unusual here. What is