The Dark Remains - Mark Anthony [139]
“It is only a spider, my lady,” the knight said, his brown eyes grave. “There is nothing to fear.”
The others gazed at her in confusion. Lirith knew she was going to have to explain. She reached into her gown and pulled out the Mournish spider charm. Then she told them of the dreams she had been having, of the golden spiders, and the hungry thing lurking in the shadows. However, she did not tell them of Sareth. He was not important, she told herself, although that was a lie. But he was secret, and so she said nothing of his place in her dreams.
Melia touched her arm when she finished. “I can see to it you sleep tonight without dreams, dear. If you’d like that.”
Lirith gave a stiff nod. She started to slip the Mournish charm back beneath her gown, then with a jolt memory came to her. “Melia,” she said, “this reminds me of something I wanted to ask you after I visited the goldsmiths. I completely forgot about it after the attempt on my life.” She held out the Mournish charm. “When one of the goldsmiths saw this, she called me a follower of Sif, and she said I would never have the golden amulets I had wanted.”
“I can see how she might have thought that, seeing your charm,” Melia said. “Sif is the arachnid god. Spiders are sacred to him.”
Aryn glanced at Melia. “Was the temple of Sif represented at the Etherion the other day?”
“No, they weren’t in attendance.”
Falken snorted. “Like half the temples in the city. I suppose they’re as afraid as—”
“By the steel of my greatsword!”
As one they gaped at Durge. It was unusual enough for the solemn knight to interrupt another, but for the Embarran to utter an oath was nothing less than astonishing.
“What is it, Durge?” Lirith managed.
The knight’s mustaches twitched. “Melia,” he said, “tell me, what sort of robes do the priests of Sif wear?”
Melia’s expression was puzzled. “They wear robes of dark gray, with pale gray threads woven into them. They’re meant to look like spiderwebs, I believe. But why do you ask?”
“Because now I know who the murderer is.”
46.
Despite the balmy night air drifting past the curtains, Aryn felt cold. Durge’s statement had struck them all like a slap in the face. She cast a glance at Lirith, then spun a quick thread along the web of the Weirding.
What on Eldh is he talking about, sister? Neither Melia nor Falken has managed to discover who killed Ondo and Geb. Durge can’t possibly know who the murderer is.
Lirith’s reply crackled back across the Weirding like lightning. If that is what you believe, then you underestimate him. Durge has seen much in his life, has endured much that you cannot even imagine. He is a wise and intelligent man, as well as a philosopher of science, and you do both him and yourself a disservice by so carelessly doubting him. Sister.
Aryn gasped. The sharpness of these words stung her like cold needles. What had she done to provoke such a rebuke? She never said Durge was stupid. She pulled her gaze from Lirith. Falken stood behind Melia’s chair, hands on her small shoulders. Both bard and lady regarded Durge seriously, and Aryn winced. Perhaps Lirith was right, perhaps she was horrible to doubt Durge. It was clear that Melia and Falken did not.
As if by a spell, memories came to Aryn like a bundle of small paintings she could hold in her hand, each one depicting a moment when she had been cruel to Durge, or had laughed at him. Or, perhaps worst of all, had simply ignored the knight.
No, not like small paintings. Like cards.
You have forgotten about one who bore pain for you.
Was Durge the one the old woman had meant? Aryn recoiled but could not cast down the hand of memories she had drawn. What was wrong with her? No man could be kinder, stronger, truer than the craggy-faced Embarran. Why was it so hard for her to see good in him?
Perhaps it is simply that you do not want to see it, sister. After all, he is more than old enough to be your father.…
“Who is it, Durge?” Melia said, her voice tight.
“It was only just now that it all made sense to me,” the knight replied in his rumbling voice. He glanced