Free The Dark Remains by Mark Anthony Page B

She was old and ugly, but She was wise as well, and subtle in Her power. If they dismissed Her, they would lose much.
    However, Lirith knew that not all believed as she did. What she had not guessed was that such individualswould speak openly on the first night of the High Coven. And who was this golden-haired witch named Liendra? Lirith had never heard of her before, although she had caught a few whispered rumors last night—how Liendra hailed from Borelga in Brelegond, where she had come into the Witches only a few years ago, the daughter of a minor noble house, and had quickly risen to a role in the triumvirate of the Borelgan Coven.
    Still, despite the dissension among the Witches, when Ivalaine had called for them to weave as one, Lirith had felt all the women come together, binding their threads into one great, shimmering web. Perhaps their differences could be overcome. Not that Lirith had been able truly to immerse herself in the weaving. She had barely Touched the Weirding at all since the morning she had glimpsed the seething tangle of threads. She could only hope Ivalaine had not noticed that her strand had been missing from the web.
    She reached Tressa’s chamber to find a lady-in-waiting outside the door. The young woman quickly ushered Lirith inside, then departed. Tressa’s chamber was much like the woman who dwelled within it: motherly and comforting. Crimson carpets softened the floor, and pillows seemed to strew every available flat surface.
    The queen’s advisor stood near the arched window. Next to her was another woman. With a jolt, Lirith realized it was Aryn. The young baroness’s blue gown was slightly askew.
    “Thank you for coming so early, sister,” Tressa said. She wore a simple robe of green, and her red hair was bound in a tight knot at her neck.
    “Of course, sister.” Lirith’s gaze flickered to Aryn. The young woman gave a slight shrug; evidently she had no idea what this was about either.
    “I saw that look, sisters,” Tressa said in musical tones.
    Both Lirith and Aryn winced. However, Tressa smiled to show she was not displeased.
    “Well, I don’t suppose I can blame you. Curiosity is hardly a crime in our circle, now is it? And I’m certain you both wonder why I’ve called you here at this hour.”
    “What is it, sister?” Lirith asked.
    Tressa’s smile faded. “There’s been an incident.”
    Lirith listened with increasing interest as Tressa described what had happened.
    It seemed, earlier that morning, a novitiate had been dispatched to wake Sister Cirynn, for it was customary for the one chosen as Maiden to greet the dawn on each day of the High Coven. However, Cirynn had not been in her bed. A quick search of the castle—no doubt with the assistance of the Touch—had revealed the young woman’s location: the barracks room of some of the queen’s guardsmen. Tressa had found Cirynn fast asleep, wearing a smile upon her face. As were several of the guards.
    Tressa heaved a deep sigh. “It seemed our Maiden is a maiden no longer, and likely has not been one for some time. Which means we must find a replacement at once.”
    Lirith felt her chest tighten. “But Sister Tressa, I—”
    The red-haired witch lifted a hand. “Of course, dear one. A Matron you would be. But there was another I was thinking of.”
    Of course—how could she have been so stupid? Lirith gave an emphatic nod. “I quite agree, Sister Tressa.”
    “And is she ready, then? You are her teacher, Sister Lirith. That is why I summoned you here.”
    Lirith thought carefully—this was not a decision to make lightly—but then she nodded again. “There is much she has yet to learn, and her command is not so deep as her ability. But she is ready for this. You could not choose better than Sister Aryn.”
    Lirith couldn’t help smiling at the effect these words produced. Were it not attached to her face, Aryn would have had to pick her jaw up from the carpet.
    “There, there, child,” Tressa