The Dark Remains (32 page)

The murder of Tharkis had unsettled everyone in the castle. Most said that Tharkis had finally uttered one too many taunts, and that some knight or lord had finally taken out his wrath upon him. However, there were other
whispers in the castle as well, ones that said it was not a knight or lord who had slain the fool, but rather a woman. After all, could it be coincidence that Tharkis had met his gruesome end even as the witches who had secretly journeyed to Ar-tolor were just as secretly departing?

Lirith knew no witches had murdered Tharkis, that this was simply the fear of the common people speaking. And yet … It seemed to her there was a kernel of truth to what the rumors said. For some reason Lirith felt a woman’s touch in this terrible deed. But whose? And why?

Aryn had been the last to see Tharkis alive, and later that day, the baroness had told Lirith of her encounter with the fool. Listening over a thread of the Weirding, Lirith had heard Tharkis’s words even as Aryn recalled them.

She sees everything. I cannot hide … even when I sleep she finds me. But she is not the only one who sees. I have seen things as well
.

And then, stranger yet, his final words.
Fear the one alive and dead, for you cannot escape her web
.

But how could one be both alive and dead? And why would this woman want Tharkis murdered? Unfortunately, all of this only added up to Master Tharkis’s final and most puzzling riddle. And by that evening, both Lirith and Aryn had known they had more pressing concerns to worry about.

Ivalaine had summoned them well after dark, as the horned moon sank toward the western horizon.

I have a burden I must place upon you
, the queen had said as they entered her chamber,
one which brings me no joy in the giving, and yet which I must give all the same. For I am bound to the Pattern, and even as I must lay this task upon you, so must both of you accept it
.

Lirith did not know what it had cost Ivalaine to join the center of the Pattern, but perhaps the price she had paid was even dearer than Lirith had guessed. The queen did
not look at them as she spoke, and both her words and motions seemed stiff, like one who was half-frozen. Tressa stood in the corner of the chamber, her lips pressed in a tight line, but the red-haired witch said nothing.

What is this task you must give us?
Lirith had finally dared.

Ivalaine’s answer had, in one crystalline moment, utterly changed Lirith’s and Aryn’s lives forever.

Lady Melia is to journey to Tarras with the bard Falken Blackhand. You will accompany them. As you travel, you will keep watch upon them and learn what you can of the one called Travis Wilder, whom the Witches have named Runebreaker. If he returns to them …

The queen had fallen still. Her slender shoulders were hunched, her left hand clenched into a fist.

Yes, Your Majesty?

Now Ivalaine did look at them, and her expression was not one of anger or steely resolve as Lirith might have guessed. Instead, her eyes shone with an icy light that stopped Lirith’s heart, a light that altered her vision of the queen of Toloria. It was the light of fear.

If that should happen, then you will send word to me at once
.

With that the audience was over, and Tressa was guiding them to the door with gentle but insistent motions.

May Sia bless you
, Lirith had said as they stepped into the corridor.

Tressa gazed back into the chamber, at the slender silhouette that stood before the night-darkened windows.

May Sia bless us all
, she had whispered.

Then the door shut, leaving Aryn and Lirith alone. The two women exchanged looks, and in that moment a conversation took place. Neither knew exactly what Ivalaine’s words—or the fear in her eyes—portended. But the Pattern was clear, and they had their task.

As they walked to Melia and Falken’s chamber, Lirith
formulated an argument in her mind, a compelling reason why they should accompany the two on their journey south. She needn’t have bothered.

Dear ones
, Melia had said at once, embracing them both,
it would please me if you would travel with us
.

Thank you
, Falken had told them at the door, after they had all agreed to meet in the bailey at dawn. The bard’s wolfish face was haggard.
One road-worn bard isn’t exactly ideal company at a time like this. It will be good for Melia to have two bright, beautiful ladies along—and two friends she cares for
.

These words left Lirith and Aryn speechless.
But don’t you see?
Lirith had wanted to shout.
We’re betraying you both, and Travis as well!
But she only met the bard’s eyes and nodded.

On their way back through the castle, they stopped by Durge’s room. As Aryn’s guardian, he had to be informed of their decision.

I will begin readying my things at once
, the knight had said.

Can’t you even question us, Durge?
Lirith had wanted to say, but she knew it was no use. Durge trusted them even as Melia and Falken did.

It’s better this way
, Aryn had said across the Weirding as they walked from Durge’s room.

How do you mean?

Lirith still didn’t know when the baroness had learned to speak without words, but it was both a comfort and a convenience; Aryn’s voice was strong and clear in her mind.

It’s like Ivalaine said … the Pattern is set. No matter what we do, the Witches are going to search for Travis. Don’t you think it’s better if we’re the ones who find him—his friends who care for him?

Lirith knew the young woman was right. Ivalaine had not forbidden them to talk to Travis, to warn him, to tell him to return to his home and never come back to Eldh.
That was the thread Sister Mirda had risked everything in order to weave into the Pattern.

Besides, Lirith knew it was possible they would never see Travis again. Or Grace or Beltan, for that matter. But the thought was bitter comfort.

It was only the next morning, as they mounted their horses in the bailey of Ar-tolor amid the rising mists of dawn, that Lirith looked up, saw a pale face gazing down at her through a high window, and realized that she had broken her promise after all.

How Teravian had known she would be leaving Artolor was a question Lirith had pondered with every passing league. Perhaps he had overheard Ivalaine and Tressa talking about the plan to send Aryn and Lirith south with Melia. After all, Teravian had a way of watching without being seen.

But of course that didn’t make sense. Lirith had spoken to Teravian the final night of the High Coven, hours before Melia learned of the murdered god. Difficult as it was to believe, there could be only one answer.

Teravian has the Sight
.

True, the talent was not unheard of in men; Lirith knew the boy Daynen had possessed some fragment of it, for he had seen in the blinding light of the sun the moment of his death, and the vision had proved true. However, the talent was rare in males, and any vestiges of the Sight were lost upon entering manhood. But Teravian was over sixteen winters, a man in body if not in mind, and if his words were to be believed, this was not the first time he had seen things.

But what did it mean? Lirith was not certain, but she had a feeling there was more to Queen Ivalaine’s willingness to foster Teravian than simple courtesy to her ally King Boreas of Calavan.

Although they were journeying from the mystery of one murder to that of another, somehow Lirith felt her spirits lift as they left Ar-tolor and set off on the road to
Tarras. The gold afternoon of summer had given way to the copper evening of autumn, and while the days were warm they never quite lost the crispness of dawn before purple dusk settled over the land.

They talked little as they rode south through Toloria, and although the silence was tinged with the sorrow of Melia’s loss, it was also peaceful in its way. It was through well-populated lands that they rode. All the same, by unspoken agreement, they eschewed manors and inns in favor of camping each evening in some well-tended copse of trees, or a few times in a
talathrin
, one of the old Tarrasian Way Circles. The weather was too mild, too glorious, to be wasted on the indoors.

Curled next to Aryn in warm blankets on the ground, Lirith would wake before the sun to hear Melia’s soft prayers and the gentle clatter of Falken making breakfast. Soon after would come a faint chiming, then Durge was there in his mail shirt, kneeling beside them, telling them it was time to rise. The rich fragrance of
maddok
would draw Lirith from the makeshift bed, and she would sit by the fire and curl her fingers around a hot clay cup while Falken served them pan-fried bread. Then they would break camp, mount the horses, and ride once more across the burnished landscape.

It was strange, but Lirith could not remember a time in her life when she had been happier.

After eight uneventful days they reached the Free City of Gendarra. This was a large, dirty, noisy, and exhilarating port city situated on an estuary of the Summer Sea, at the mouths of the Rivers Kelduorn and Dimduorn.

Lirith was grateful fate had not taken them to the Free City of Corantha. She had not stood within that city’s walls since the day she fled north to Toloria to begin her life anew. For all her changes since then, she was not certain she would ever have the power to set foot within those walls again. Fortunately, the sea at Corantha was rough
this time of year, and so they had made for Gendarra instead.

The Free Cities were a league of loosely allied city-states that, two centuries earlier, had overthrown their ruling lords in favor of a government controlled largely by merchants. Rather than a count or duke, each city was governed by a mayor who was elected by representatives of the various merchant guilds. As a result, the Free Cities were prosperous and busy—but not always so orderly and stable as the castle keeps of the Dominions. Although she had spent nine years of her life in one, Lirith had always thought the name
Free Cities
was a bit misleading. While you could buy anything you wanted there, everything had a price.

As Falken learned when he went to the docks to book passage for them on a ship to Tarras.

I was robbed!
the bard had exclaimed upon entering the inn where they were staying.
The captain might as well have turned me upside down and shaken the gold out of my pockets
.

Yes, that’s terribly upsetting, dear
, Melia had said.
But you did get us a nice ship, didn’t you?

In fact, Falken had gotten them a very nice ship. Captain Magard’s trade centered on jewels, spices, and other precious but compact commodities, which meant his vessel was neither smelly nor crowded. Falken’s gold bought them three tiny cabins, one for Melia, one for Durge and the bard, and one for Aryn and Lirith.

It was a good thing Melia had her own room, for as it turned out the amber-eyed lady was not at all good at crossing the water. Lirith wasn’t certain why, but for some reason this pleased her. Nobody, not even a former goddess, should be perfect. However, Falken—who spent much of his day running buckets to and from Melia’s room—looked considerably less happy with the situation.

Lirith had never been on a ship before; she loved it.
While Aryn and Durge were not in such dire straits as Melia, both seemed to prefer keeping belowdecks. Not Lirith. She spent almost all of her waking hours basking in the sun and spray, watching sleek dolphins race alongside the ship, or gazing at the night stars while Captain Magard told her which were most useful for navigating across the open sea.

Not that the
Fate Runner
was ever far from shore. Often Lirith caught glimpses to starboard of rocky cliffs or green lines of trees and, once, of pale peaks merging with a distant line of clouds. Then that morning, their fifth at sea, she scrambled up a ladder onto the deck to see a glint of sun on gold directly before them, and with a queer note of sadness she knew their journey to be over.

By the time the
Fate Runner
was secured at the dock, the others had appeared on deck. Durge staggered under a heavy load of bags and bundles; they had sold Queen Ivalaine’s horses in Gendarra, and apparently the knight believed it his duty to replace them single-handedly. Lirith hurried to take a pair of bags from him. Aryn seemed to wince, then rushed to do the same.

Falken guided Melia toward the gangplank, where Captain Magard oversaw the unloading of his cargo. There was still a greenish tint to the lady’s usually coppery skin, but the sight of land seemed to have vastly improved her condition.

“Thank you, Captain,” she said, “for a journey I shall not soon be able to forget.”

Magard grinned and bowed low. “If I could have stilled the sea for you, great lady, I would have.”

She smiled and gave his rough cheek a pat. “Do keep working on it, dear.”

The docks of Tarras were crowded, filled with colors and smells at once vivid and rancorous. Passersby jostled against Durge, so that the knight spun in circles, fighting to keep hold of his many burdens. The city soared above them, and Lirith could see now that it was built upon a hill. A pinnacle of white rock soared upward near its center, a striking contrast to the smooth towers and gilded domes that surrounded it.

Lirith started toward the others. Suddenly the glare of the sun went thin and cold, and the din of the crowd receded to a muffled roar like the voice of the sea. A dread spilled through her, chill as water from the bottom of a frozen ocean.

The figure stood across the dock, twenty paces away, beyond a screen of people. Everything seemed to move with a strange slowness. The figure was already turning away, black robe billowing on the heavy air, but she caught a spark of gold in the shadow of the robe’s cowl. He had been watching them, just like before.

No, that wasn’t quite right. Several times on their journey south, in one of the towns or cities through which they passed, Lirith had felt a tingling along the Weirding, and she had turned just in time to glimpse a flutter of dark cloth just vanishing around a corner or into a doorway. It was never much—never enough to be certain, but Lirith had a feeling they were being watched as they journeyed.