Tell Me My Name Read Free Page A

That
man used a spell to torture me, and I know that he must be a
magician. Could those symbols represent his power? What exactly do
they mean?
    Who is he?
    And are the five figures with him, the
ones with similarly embellished cloaks, magicians as
well?
    What about the sixth? He wears no such
finery, and I find my attention drawn to this figure in the plain
black cloak, wondering if its simplicity places him below the rest
in the hierarchy. He stands apart from the others, and all I can
see of him are his sharp chin, straight mouth, and the tip of his
nose. His smooth, youthful complexion is the color of golden
saffron or deep amber, and he holds himself so still, I almost
wonder if he’s a statue. While the ones in the decorated clothing
mutter to each other, step closer, or tilt their heads, he remains
motionless and silent.
    Hoping that he’s not like his
companions and won’t ignore me, I say, “Please, who are you? What
do you want with me?”
    His lips part, as if he’s about to
speak, but then he turns his face toward the man who cast the spell
and shuts his mouth. He lowers his chin, and though I can’t see his
eyes, I know he must be staring at the ground.
    That’s more of a response than I’ve
received from anyone else. His actions tell me that he wanted to
reply, but something about the man stopped him. That magician seems
to be the leader … does he hold some kind of power over the others?
Did he order them to capture me? Why would he do that? And who is
this youth in the plain cloak?
    I watch him anxiously for a sign, and
a glimmer of hope lights my mind as he lifts his chin and turns his
face toward me. He opens his mouth again, but pauses, as if midway
toward forming a word. Then he exhales and presses his lips
together.
    “ Please,” I repeat,
yearning to know what that word might have been. “I … I don’t
understand why I’m here. If you can’t tell me who you are, then I
beg you, at least tell me who I am.”
    He remains still for a moment, but
then his jaw clenches visibly and he takes a step closer. Desperate
hope creeps into my heart, and I keep my pleading eyes on him,
wishing I could meet his gaze.
    But then the leader abruptly whirls
toward the younger man and grabs him by the arm. “Where are you
going?” he asks.
    The youth bows his head. “I was only
going to tell her–”
    “ I told you not to speak to
her!” the magician snaps. He throws me a dark glare and I shrink,
terrified that he’ll cast his spell on me again. Thankfully, he
keeps his arms by his sides. Instead, he whirls to face the other
cloaked figures around him and says in a commanding voice: “I
forbid all of you
from speaking to her, am I clear?”
    Why? The idea that this man trapped me and then tortured me,
without even giving me a reason or justification, rekindles my
anger. And now he’s destroying my only hope for an ally. A fresh
surge of energy flows through me, overpowering my fear, and I give
voice to my questions. “Why? What– What do you want with
me?”
    But nods and murmured assents have
already rippled through the small crowd, and nobody even glances in
my direction. Except one: the youth in the plain cloak, who briefly
turns to me before facing the magician again.
    “ With all due respect,
Master,” he says, “she at least deserves to know–”
    “ Silence!” The magician –
evidently the youth’s master – takes a threatening step toward him.
Though the younger man is taller by several inches, his master’s
authoritative expression and broad, barrel-chested build make him
radiate power. “She may look like a mere girl to you, but you must
remember that this creature is not one of us. Have you learned nothing of what I
taught you about her kind?”
    My kind? What does that
mean? Why does he forbid the others from speaking to me at all?
What are they hiding? Are they … Could they be afraid of me? But
why? I want to ask, but I’m shaking so
hard from the cold that I can barely