Reign of Shadows - Deborah Chester [62]
Her fingers entwined among the knot of writhing snakes inside the box, and she lifted them out. A dozen or more in number, they hissed and coiled about her wrists, but none of them struck her.
The Magria held them high for a moment, then tossed them upon the sand. “Truth-sayers, speak!” she called out.
Retreating from the sand pit, she climbed a tall dais overlooking it and seated herself on the stone chair.
The serpents writhed and slithered across the sand. They were active in the heat, hungry. But none of them made any effort to crawl out of the shallow pit.
Watching, her mind empty with anticipation, the Magria clutched the arms of her chair and waited in silence. She considered the lines drawn on the sand by the snakes, finding the pattern disturbingly clear.
As she had expected ... but she must wait. It was not yet time for interpretation.
Without warning, crimson filled her vision, coating all that she saw. Blood ... or the scarlet hue of rubies. The jewels blazed before her as though a hand had tossed a thousand of them across the sand. They reflected the firelight, glittering with life of their own. One of the snakes opened its mouth wide, fangs unfolding. It gulped down an egg-sized ruby, the jewel bulging through its length.
The Magria swayed in her chair and moaned.
Around her the walls ran with blood. It pooled on the floor, then ran in streams into the pit where the sand soaked it up.
Feeling the power, the Magria moaned again. Her heart pulsed stronger and stronger. The veiled sisters began to chant again, very soft and low, while the flames hissed and blazed.
The snake continued to eat the rubies, faster and faster, gorging itself on them until its length was swollen and lumpy. At last it lay still and sated, its mouth open. Another snake began to eat the jewels that remained.
The Magria swayed in her chair, biting her lip to hold back her cries. She must be strong. She must hold the vision until it was finished. But this one was very powerful, far more so than she had expected.
Fear lay on her like sweat. Around her blood puddled at her feet, welling up between her toes, staining her skin with its warmth. The wet, heavy scent of it filled her nostrils.
The second snake was still gobbling rubies. So few of the jewels remained unconsumed ... so few.
Across the sand pit, the remaining serpents rolled themselves together into a writhing wad. When they abruptly separated and slithered apart, the Magria saw there were now only seven.
One was colored a rich green. Another was blue; another gold; and yet another black. The fifth was striped with crimson bands. The sixth was speckled gray and brown. The seventh was white, its skin loose, stretching. The Magria saw that it was shedding its skin. The others surrounded it, coiled and hissing, their forked tongues flickering in and out as they waited.
The Magria felt pain inside her chest as though anticipation had drawn it too tight. She forgot to breathe.
Then the gold-colored serpent moved away from the black snake that companioned it. The crimson-banded serpent approached the gold one, but it veered away. The green and blue snakes surrounded the gold one, but the black serpent intervened and drove the gold serpent back toward the one with crimson bands. Gold and crimson entwined themselves together, and the black serpent retreated. Green and blue faced each other, rearing high. The green shook rattles on its tail in warning. The blue flared out a hood. Swaying with mutual menace, they struck in battle, lashing and coiling about each other in a fury.
Meanwhile, the pale molting snake emerged wet and glistening. It was five times larger than any of the others. It looked like none of the others, white as death, an unholy thing that seemed to grow larger while the others fought.
Then the gold serpent, lying so still around the one with crimson bands, tightened its coils and began to squeeze. When the