Deliverance by Dakota Banks Page A

winter.
    Maliha dropped to her knees and bowed her head.
    “Grandfather,” she said.
    “My child.”
    When she looked up, Master Liu was clothed in heavy robes. His face was wrinkled and wisps of white hair stood up from his head. His white, rheumy eyes fixed her with a blind stare. One of Master Liu’s abilities as an Ageless was to change his appearance. She believed she was looking at the true version now.
    “Master, I seek your wisdom,” she said.
    “Come in out of the wind,” he said. “It’s good to see you.” He held out his arm to her and she took him by the elbow as if she were supporting a frail old man.
    She flashed back to Hound’s description of Master Liu: He’s some ascetic hermit who counts snowflakes on a mountain in China and dips his balls in ice water for the hell of it. She almost giggled. Almost.
    He took her inside the school, where a student maintained a small fire. It didn’t do much to warm the large room. Master Liu taught tolerance to the elements and humility in the face of nature, which is why Maliha had worn only thin clothing.
    “Student, bring a warm robe for my guest. She is a disciple of this school.”
    Maliha raised her eyebrows in surprise.
    Master Liu shrugged. “I’m mellowing in my old age,” he said.
    The student, a boy of about sixteen, returned with a heavy robe and slippers for Maliha. She wondered who his demon was, since Master Liu only taught the Ageless.
    He was the oldest Ageless Maliha knew, at least five thousand years old. He had been a priest of Anu’s in Sumerian times. He didn’t want to turn against his demon, even though he hated the evil works he participated in by training assassins, because he wanted to remain immortal. He was convinced that Anu would return to Earth someday, and wanted to be alive at that glorious moment so he would once again be Anu’s priest. Although he wouldn’t turn rogue, he supported Maliha by taking no action against her. They both knew that if his demon ever ordered him to kill her, he would do it.
    “I’ve come here because I . . .”
    “You’ve come because you are soft,” he interrupted. “I felt it in the way you moved when you walked next to me. Did you think I needed your arm to steady me? Your first task will be to join the advanced students.”
    I have missed a few workouts, and when I was fighting Xietai, he had a few moves I hadn’t anticipated and should have.
    “When you are no longer soft, we’ll talk.”
    Maliha returned to her white-uniformed student days of training, discipline, and humble work at the school. He was right—she was soft. After three weeks of hard training, she knew the refresher had been good for her.
    S he talked to Master Liu about the recent events in her life, everything from the tide of deaths in her last case to killing Yanmeng’s son to Abiyram’s death and her suspicions about Jake. His answers left more questions in her mind—he told her she was walking the mortal path, something she will eventually see clearly in her mind, as clearly as the lines created by the Nazca people in the plateaus of southern Peru.
    Images floated into Maliha’s mind of huge forms in the sand that made sense only when viewed from above. The lines were made by removing the pebbles that covered the plateaus to reveal white or pink sand underneath. Intricate hummingbird, spider, and lizard patterns, among others, might have been sacred paths for people to walk as they prayed for fertility or rain in the near-desert climate. At least, that was one theory. Others involved alien landings at Nazca, with some lines serving as landing strips and the multitude of glyphs as welcoming sights for aliens to see from above.
    “I recommend the Condor for you,” he said. “You must walk it without rest and without water. It’s a complex glyph and a challenge, but there are times you will see with wonderful clarity. Your feet may tread upon sand but your mind will not remain on this plane of