Read Online The Scholomance by R. Lee Smith - Free Book Online Page A

hint of
doubt or disbelief.
    The archivist
had moved on to other languages, trying to ignore her, to ignore the fears and
memories stirred up by the sound of his name in the stranger’s mouth. He waved
them away, the woman who held her more than Mara herself, cursing them both in
another tongue. The woman, recovered and embarrassed, grabbed Mara’s wrist and
wrenched it, trying to pull her away, to make her stumble after like an errant
child in a schoolroom. Mara sensed it coming, got moving in time to rob her of
the worst of it, so that her arm got a good yank and that was all. She looked
at the demon once more as she was towed to a passageway and he looked back at
her, still smiling as he inclined his head for farewell.
    One of the
Masters, the woman had said. There were more.
    Mara was taken
to a small chamber, lit by another of those grossly-swollen blisters of glowing
light, and bare except for a large wooden box on the floor, opened and empty.
    “Remove your
clothing. Put everything in here. All the things you wear. All that you
possess.” The woman rolled her eyes at Mara’s hesitation. “You will have it all
back when you leave this place.”
    “Not everyone
leaves,” Mara said.
    The woman smiled
unpleasantly. “Then we’ll burn it for you. Hurry up. I have better things to do
than herd stubborn sheep like you.”
    Mara undressed. She
watched her body bare itself through the woman’s eyes and tasted a little envy,
which she was used to, and a little nervousness, which struck her as odd. ‘Beautiful,’
she was thinking, not quite fearfully. ‘Already so beautiful.’
    Mara inspected
herself from this new perspective as the clothes went into the box. Beautiful,
yes, why not? She’d been an object of desire since she turned thirteen, even
younger in certain cases. Hers was a body of unreal beauty, the sort other
women could not hope to achieve without paying for it, or at least working at
it. Her hips were full, her buttocks shapely and toned, her belly flat, her
legs firm and long and perfectly curved. Her woman’s sex was hairless, smooth,
plump and taut at once. Her breasts were heavy, youthfully buoyant, and even. The
chill in here made her nipples hard. Her pale hair, disheveled by the climb,
fell in fine, wavy strands down her back. The sickly light shining out of the walls
turned it orange in places, made her too-pale skin seem to glow. Her lack of
embarrassment about her own nudity unnerved the woman further, spurning on that
strange envy. ‘Another pet for them,’ she was thinking. Aloud, she said only, “Everything.”
    Mara didn’t have
much to divest herself of: shoes, socks, jeans, sweater, sunglasses, climbing
gear, flashlights. The cab driver’s little cross, of course, which the robed
woman laughed at. Her wallet and passport, along with a good wad of Romanian
cash and traveler’s checks, so that when she got out of here, she’d have the
means to get herself and Connie back to the States. She put it all into the box
without resistance; she’d deal with the problem of getting it all back when
that time came. Soon she stood over it in nothing but her skin and Connie’s
heart-shaped locket.
    “Everything,”
the woman said again.
    “I’m not taking
this off.”
    Heaving a curt
sigh, the woman moved to snatch it.
    Mara slapped,
not with her hand, but with her mind. The woman staggered back violently, both
arms flying uselessly up as her head snapped back. She overbalanced and fell,
her short cry of alarm cut into a grunt of impact. She sat there, sprawled,
looking up at Mara and clearly wondering what had just happened.
    “Nobody touches
this,” Mara said softly.
    “Who do you
think you are?” Up came the woman, her hands closing into fists of frustration,
but she didn’t raise them. “You don’t make the rules here, little cow! You’re
not different! You’re not special! Take it off immediately!”
    “No.”
    “Leave us,” said
a voice. An awful, quiet, scuttling sort