Wheel of the Infinite Read Online Free PDF Page A

stared hard at her, looking for what was left of her tattoo, but her hair had grown over it, obscuring all but the border of the design at her hairline. The staff told him that her rank was Voice, but not which Voice. He wet his lips, and said, “You shame us, lady. You should shelter in the temple.”
    She leaned on the staff, mud and all. She hadn’t ever really expected to arrive in secret. “Thank you for the offer, my son, but I can’t.”
    His eyes narrowed, alert for insult. He said, “You have a reason for refusing our shelter?”
    “I’m forbidden the temples,” Maskelle said, watching his eyes.
    He stared at her, frowning, and his gaze swept over her, seeing for the first time past the worn robes. He would have trouble estimating her age, she knew. Country people always thought her younger, city people used to courtiers who spent all their time lying in the shade and rubbing oils and creams into their skin always thought her older. His eyes went to the staff again.
But there are only so many Voices
, she thought. And the chance was he would know where all the others were.
    She watched with interest as the blood drained from his face. “You . . .” He did not step back from her, though the tension in his body told her he wanted to. He drew in a breath and said coldly, “So the rumors were true. You’ve been summoned by the Celestial One.”
    “Rumors fly fast.” She smiled.
    A muscle jumped in his cheek. “I have something to show you.”
    Maskelle lifted her brows. She hadn’t expected that response. “You know there are very few rituals I’m allowed to perform.”
    He turned away without answering, his attendants hastily parting for him. Maskelle followed, baffled and trying— successfully, she hoped—not to show it.
What does he want? If this is a trap . . . If this is a trap, he’s mad
.
    The priest led her through the dark, crossing through the muddy flats with no concern for his robes, one of the guards hurrying forward with a lamp to light the way. After a moment she realized he was leading her toward the temple’s outbuildings, the stables, storehouses, and the quarters for the monks and servants that stood near the end of the causeway that crossed the baray to the temple. He turned through a narrow gate in a stone wall, pausing to disperse the guards with a wave. Only his priest attendants followed Maskelle through the gate.
    Inside was a courtyard, the few lamps hanging from hooks along the walls illuminating muddy ground and more gates leading off into the rambling structure that loomed over them in the dark. Two guards stood outside one of the gates, and one quickly reached to pull it open as the priest strode toward it.
    Inside was a warm close room, the damp air smelling strongly of goat and the ground littered with straw. The other priests had remained outside, but the one guard with the lamp had followed them in. The head priest took it away from him and held it high over the occupant of the wooden pen.
    Maskelle took a deep breath, despite the smell. “It’s a goat.”
The man is mad
.
    It was an ordinary brown goat, staring up at them with opaque brown eyes. The goat turned its head and bleated, and Maskelle saw what was hanging out of its side. It was the rear half of a moray lizard. She stepped closer and leaned down, swallowing a curse. The moray were about a foot long, with tough gray green hides and a ridge of distinctive spines along their backs to complement their sharp teeth and clawed feet. This was distinctively a moray, or at least the back six inches of one. It was stuck against the goat’s side as if it had grown there, the two back legs dangling, the spiny tail hanging limply. Baffled, she looked up at the priest, who was watching her with a grim lack of expression that was impossible to read. She said, “It’s strange, but such things happen. Animals born with extra limbs or . . .”
Other, completely different animals hanging out of their bodies
. No, she