Rogue's Pawn Read Online Free PDF Page B

arched his left eyebrow, blueness in the elegant arch, repeating the deep shades of the fanged lines around it.
    “Shall we?” he repeated.
    I stared at him. What was the question?
    “Shall we discuss your situation? Attempt to use some mental discipline and think yes or no, out loud in your head.”
    Mental discipline, my ass. Maybe.
    Then he laughed, an open delighted sound that brought stars into the midnight of his eyes. “‘Maybe’ will work.”
    I felt momentarily dazzled. Or simply lightheaded from the throbbing in my neck. Probably serious blood loss, too.
    He stood and resumed pacing, hands folded behind his back. “I can’t hear every thought you’ve ever had. Think of it like a lake. The first foot or two is clear. If I row my little boat on the lake and look down, I can see fish that come to the surface—especially if they come up for food or even leap out of the water. Deeper than that, I have no idea what fish are in there unless I dive in, which I’m not going to do because who wants to get soaked in someone else’s lake water?”
    He was lecturing.
    “Yes, I often teach,” he replied. “There’s a good example—your observation that I was falling into a familiar lecture pattern swam up to the surface like a bright goldfish, right up to the bait I dangled in the water—which would be my words to you. The easiest thought to hear is a direct response to your own thoughts, vocalized or not. Especially fully and definitely formed as if you were about to vocalize it. Understand?”
    Yes .
    “No need to shout.” He paused to stand over me again, that eyebrow once again raised in patient disdain. “No need to put any push behind it, just bring the little fishy to the surface for me to see.”
    Like I was a child.
    “You are a child,” he snapped—now I could see a flash of Tinker Bell. “Get that through your head right now. You’re a toddler with a nuclear warhead, and there are those who will not hesitate to kill you for it. Who even now clamor for your death.”
    I gaped at him, not that my life being in danger was any surprise, but “nuclear warhead”? Were we in the actual world after all?
    “Clear your thoughts, don’t panic,” he instructed, back in superior teacher mode. “Sort out what you want to ask me from the emotional response—you just about swamped my little rowboat with frantic toothy fish.”
    Torn between laughing and grinding my teeth, both of which would probably hurt, I pictured a nuclear warhead on my grassy hill and put a question mark next to it. My instructor rolled his eyes, but I caught a glimpse of the stars that brightened the blue of his eyes when he was amused.
    “Nice picture, but words, please. We’re not babies. Tut, tut—keep the anger out. Emotion only clouds the water.”
    How did he understand my words anyway—was he speaking English?
    “Aha!” He beamed at me, resuming his measured pace around the room. “Now there’s our logical girl! No, we do not speak the same language. If you concentrate on only the sound of my voice and not the sense, you’ll hear that you don’t understand the words I’m saying. But because vocalized words are like ducks on the surface of the lake, you are hearing the sense of my words, not the actual words themselves. You should be able to understand anyone here, except those who are insane or with very unclear thoughts. Also, someone who does not mean what they say will confuse you.”
    Interesting. So maybe he didn’t say “nuclear warhead,” but something that I translated as my equivalent of whatever that would be here.
    “Exactly. Congratulations, we can enter you into kindergarten now.”
    I started lining up questions to ask, starting with Where am I and how did I get here? but he held up one long-fingered hand. Again, out of proportion, fingers just slightly too long for the hand, the whole hand just a little too long for the arm.
    “Still your thoughts, let your fish swim deep and listen. Let’s