Free False Covenant (A Widdershins Adventure) by Ari Marmell

was, this time, the Shrouded Lord who interrupted her . “Yes, so you were making clear before Monsieur Beaupre's outburst distracted us. And as I believe I was making clear, I understand your concerns, but I do not share them.”
    “My lord, my counsel is one of the reasons—”
    “That'll do, Igraine.”
    The priestess nodded, then directed her sharp, scarcely blinking gaze at the young woman in question.
    A young woman who, frankly, had lost her patience some time ago.
    “What is it,” she demanded of the room at large, “with me and the powerful women in this guild? First Lisette, now you? What'd I do to ruffle your holy feathers?”
    Remy coughed into his hand, presumably since laughing outright wouldn't have been politic.
    Even Igraine smiled shallowly at the comment. “I've nothing against you personally, Widdershins.”
    “Then what—?”
    “I do not understand precisely what happened here last year. I don't know why you had such an unholy creature pursuing you. And I have yet to determine what it is, but there's something wrong about you. An…aura, if you will. A power that I find distasteful, and possibly contrary to the will of the Shrouded God.”
    Well , Widdershins groused mentally, I guess that answers my question about how much of Olgun she can sense.
    “I distrust what I don't understand,” the priestess continued, “and I dislike what I don't trust. So unless you'd care to explain…?”
    “I,” Widdershins announced firmly, “have no idea what you're talking about.”
    “Of course you don't.”
    “Are you quite through?” asked the Shrouded Lord.
    “I am,” Widdershins told him. “I can't speak for Her Eminence.”
    “That's a term of address for an archbishop,” Igraine corrected her with a sniff. “Not a priestess.”
    “Oh, I'm sorry. Her Insignificance, then.”
    The taskmaster's coughing fit grew worse.
    “Let me rephrase,” the Shrouded Lord said. “You two are quite through.”
    “Yes, my lord.”
    “All right.”
    “Laremy,” the guildmaster continued, “you may wish to have that cough looked at.”
    “Uh, yes, my lord.”
    “Good. Now—”
    “Uh…Excuse me? Um, my lord?”
    The Shrouded Lord's shoulders deflated. “Yes, Widdershins?”
    “Um…” She was chewing on the ends of her hair—and when exactly had that become a habit?!—her face suddenly serious. “What about Lisette? Any…uh, any news?”
    Lisette Suvagne—Laremy's predecessor as taskmaster—had been Widdershins's avowed enemy ever since the younger thief had stolen the ancestral treasures from the d'Arras family tower, a job that Suvagne herself had been planning for months. The former taskmaster had made multiple attempts at destroying Widdershins, until she'd finally gone a step too far and been removed from her post for disobeying the Shrouded Lord's direct orders. She'd utterly vanished not long afterward, even from the far-reaching attentions of the Finders' Guild.
    “No,” he said simply. “Nothing.”
    “Oh.”
    “ As I was saying,” he continued, a touch of impatience creeping into his rasping voice, “we have a bit of a conundrum on our hands, and we—that is, some of us—felt that you would be an appropriate choice to help us out.”
    “I would? What'd I do this time?”
    “Nothing. Other than come dangerously near to annoying your boss.”
    “Maybe I'll be quiet and let you finish,” Widdershins murmured.
    “Maybe, but I have my doubts.”
    Silence, then—perhaps deliberately to prove the Shrouded Lord wrong.
    Eventually, he continued, “While I do not share my priestess's distrust of you, she's not wrong in her facts. You were heavily involved in a number of mysterious and even supernatural events last year. The demon that pursued you through our halls; the death of its summoner; even the murder of Archbishop William de Laurent, as well as several of your friends.”
    Widdershins looked to the floor; six months later, the wounds remained fresh.
    “To say