[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.But it was neither thedimness that made me squint and strain to see around me, nor the incense,though that didn t help.And smoke usually derived from flame, from heat, fromthe disintegration of something substantial, but this was more like the coolwaves of mist that wound about a Scottish highland& except these tendrilsweren t rising from the ground to overtake the landscape in a heathered glen.They were coming from an opening in the far bookcase, where the steady flameof another candle called to us like a beacon. I take it he s no longer on a conference call with Macau, Chandra whispered,unable to take her eyes from the hole in the bookcase.And together we stepped forward, through the faux barrier, and into a room I dnever known existed.8Page 42ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlXavier Archer was on his knees, chanting, which was probably why he didn thear our approach.He was holding something that reminded me of a child srattle, but when I inched closer I recognized it as a handheld version of theprayer wheels in the stupa outside.Its handle was wooden, but there was anornate metal cylinder at its apex, with a ballasted chain helping the cylinderwhirl around with a deft flick of the wrist.His mouth moved as he repeatedhis mantra over and over, but it didn t sound like Xavier s voice.It was toolow and respectfully resolute. Praying? Chandra asked, so lightly only I could hear.I shook my head.Xavier didn t pray. No.It s more like&  Worshipping.Centered on a colorful rug, he leaned over in a practiced move to pick up amallet, striking the side of a bronze bowl without losing beat with his prayerwheel.A warm bell tone overtook the tinny chiming in the room and resonatedthrough my body, making the spot on my chest where the doppelgänger had nearlyrent me open pulse lightly.I lifted my hand, wanting to rub the feeling away.I also wanted to back out of the room, ponder what this could mean far fromthe compelling smell and sound of ritualistic Eastern prayer, but Chandra wasinching closer to Xavier.I caught up with her as the even spin of the wheelstopped and the tonal notes died in the air.The room fell to completesilence.We didn t dare breathe in the unearthly stillness, and even Xavier smouth moved soundlessly as he set aside the first singing bowl and mallet, andpicked up a second, larger one, placing it directly in front of him on thecarpet.He held the hollowed disk with straight arms, as if proffering it to someone,and I had just enough time to think: No, not a bowl.A mask.Bending his elbows, he drew the mask toward his face in an exaggerated motion.It was too small for his bullish mien, its bowl delicate and shallow, andobviously a totem meant for ritual ceremonies, clearly not intended to beworn.Yet as Xavier drew the plain wooden artifact parallel to his features,the ancient wood startled and sprang to life.He cupped it to his face as thewood pushed against itself and began to flatten, grain thinning with ahigh-pitched noise.It attached itself to Xavier s skin, caressing his cheeksin a jagged slide, seeping like wax beneath his hairline to add Xavier scoiffure down to his cowlick to its inanimate features.It went fast after that, like the wood was once again living and vital,anchored in the earth, and not merely a hollowed out husk.Xavier was alreadystatue-still, but once the mask encompassed the whole of his face, I heard asharp click the animate wood meeting and fastening at the nape of his neck andhe went absolutely rigid.Ash flew from his mouth to thicken the air in a blackening haze.I leanedforward, waving a hand before me, but the effect was temporary; the air wastoo heavy, molecules pressed so tightly together they were almost sticky.Thewhole scene took on a dreamlike aspect, as if what I was seeing was takingplace inside of my lids.I took another step forward, and with a second Ispotted the candle burning like a focal point in haze.A third step and Xavierbecame visible again.Smoke billowed from the mask now, soot coating and darkening the walls of theroom.If the smoky mixture had been cloying before, it was oppressive now, andit coated my mouth in wafer-thin layers with every inhalation. Only one thing tastes like toasted anise, Chandra murmured, her facescrunched in disgust. What? Parfum de personne. She waved her hand in the air to look me in the eye. It s his soul essence. But what s he doing with it?She squinted, returning her gaze to Xavier. It looks like he s giving itaway.Page 43ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html Well, that was a tad freaky.Chandra and I backed from the office, shutting the door silently behind us,and I made a face as I tried to clear the cloying sweetness from the back ofmy throat.Was I going to have to walk around all day with Xavier s soulessence clinging to my clothes?  Let s get back to the drawing room.We llwait for Deluca there.We started back through the giant stupa, neither of us seeing it this time,still mesmerized by what we d just witnessed.I was so lost in thought, itwasn t until Chandra called out to me that I noticed she d fallen behind.I walked back to her while she continued to stare into a sunken alcove, sotaken by what she saw there that she actually touched me when I reached herside.We both jerked away out of habit, but her eyes stayed fixed on the wallacross from her. Do you see what I see?I turned my head, and though I d passed by it hundreds of times before, mygasp was real, and immediately smothered.Of course! I did a mental head slap. More masks.Half a dozen more.And they d been hanging on these walls so long, they d onlyever registered as creepy, not significant.But they were.Clearly antique,and bearing a freakish resemblance to the one Xavier had donned, the one infront of me looked frighteningly like the mask the Tulpa had been wearing whenhe d tried to microwave me only days earlier.I looked around, pointed toanother, and we crossed the room in implicit silence, standing before it likeit was a caged animal.It was simply, even primitively carved, and paintedentirely red, like it d been shellacked with fresh blood, but for the blackline painted down the bridge of the wide nose.I d just reached out to removeit from its wall peg when a voice behind me went off like a firecracker. What do you think you re doing?I whirled, hand falling like it d been slapped.Recovering quickly, Iperformed the eye roll I d perfected in front of the mirror last month, andcrossed my arms, tapping my fingers impatiently [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ]