Free The Veil Weavers by Maureen Bush Page B

just see , you know?”
    No, I didn’t know. My magic was different.
    “I am Dorshan,” said the man, as he placed his long thin hand on the door and gently pushed. It swung open at his touch, even though such a large door must be heavy. He bowed, and we stepped in. We could hear a frenzy of crows cawing as the door slid shut behind us with a soft thunk .
    We walked into a light-filled cathedral. That was my first impression, at least. Then I realized I was wrong; it was an incredibly simple hallway, just stone walls and tall windows, but the light gleamed off the cream stone walls and it felt...it felt peaceful, deeply quiet, like a monastery.
    From the door, the hallway curved along the front face of the mountain, with windows fitted to follow the lines of the rock. Through every window we could see mountains and evening sky, making the stone hall feel light and airy. When I commented on it, Dorshan said, “Of course. The hall is woven of mountain and sky.”
    “How is that possible?” Maddy murmured.
    I shook my head.
    The cat that had startled us outside walked with us, like a pet cat, except it was large enough for Dorshan to rest his hand on its head while they walked.
    “This is Menolee,” said Dorshan. “We wanted to call her Snow Ball but that seemed too obvious.”
    Menolee meowled, a wild cry that echoed off the ceiling.
    Dorshan led us down the hall, pausing to let us study tapestries hung along the inside wall. Some shimmered like dew, others sang with rich deep colours. A few brooded, dark as storms. The more I looked, the more I wondered what they were woven from.
    “We can weave anything,” said Dorshan, as if he could read my mind.
    A wave of joy washed over me. If the weavers could weave anything, they could repair the veil.
    Dorshan continued. “My favourite task is weaving the first leaves into new robes.” His face lit up, bright with memories of spring.
    Weavers passed us as we studied the tapestries – they were all tall and lean and simply dressed. Menolee butted her head against the hand of each weaver who walked by. The weavers nodded politely to us and to Dorshan, but no one spoke. They felt as quiet as the hall.
    We followed Dorshan as the hall curved around the mountain. He led us to a small alcove. “We have visitors,” he announced to the three weavers sitting by a stone fireplace. They looked surprised.
    “We rarely see anyone but the birds,” said a tall, thin, white-haired woman, in a pale robe coloured with a hint of apricot. She stood, and her robe rustled softly around her. “I am Eldest,” she said, holding out a hand in welcome.
    “This is Aloshius the Elder,” she said, gesturing to her right.
    The second weaver nodded and smoothed his robe with long, narrow hands. His hair was pale gold, barely darker than the faint gold of his robe.
    “And Lyatha,” Eldest continued, holding out a hand to her left.
    Lyatha, dressed in a robe of peach and cream, smiled, her soft blue eyes sparkling. “Welcome,” she said. “Come, warm yourself by the fire.” Her hair was pale silver, and her skin almost translucent. I felt that if I watched long enough I would see through her skin to the blood pumping in her veins.
    As Lyatha helped us out of our winter clothes, Eldest thanked Dorshan and he left, returning to guard duty, I assumed.
    When we leaned down to take off our boots, Maddy whispered, “They’re barely there, Josh. I checked through my ring to be sure.”
    “Like ghosts?” I asked, feeling shocked.
    “No, not ghosts.” She hesitated. “Just...just thin.” She frowned, struggling to describe it. “More spirit than flesh,” she finally announced.
    I could feel her shiver. I swallowed, and spoke. “We are here by the Will of the Gathering.”
    Lyatha held up a hand to stop me. “You have come a long way. You shall bathe and change, and then share a meal with us. Then you may tell us the needs of the Gathering.”
    Eldest and Aloshius nodded in agreement,