The Dark Remains - Mark Anthony [203]
I’m … I’m not sure, Grace managed to answer.
Now Lirith was there, her outlines dimmer than Aryn’s, but warmer in color and more clearly focused.
You see it, don’t you, sister? The flaw in the Weirding.
Grace struggled to explain. Not exactly. Everything I sense is perfect. But it’s as if I’m not sensing everything I should be. It’s as if some of the threads of the Weirding are missing.
She felt sadness spin outward from Lirith. And fear.
I know where they have gone, sister.…
Lirith’s thread reached for Grace’s, connected. Images flashed through Grace’s mind, and in an instant she saw everything: the tangle in the Weirding.
Her eyes fluttered open. Now she stared at Aryn and Lirith with mundane sight. “What is it?”
Lirith sighed. “I am not certain. But I have spoken to Melia, and she believes it has to do with what is happening here in Tarras.”
Grace struggled for understanding. “But what are you talking about? What’s happening in Tarras?”
Shaken as she was, she had spoken the words loudly, and it was Falken who turned around to answer her.
“That’s a good question, Grace. You’ve returned at a dark time. I don’t know how to explain it quickly other than to say that gods have been murdered—three of them—and we’re on our way to see the emperor to do something about it.”
“No,” a deep voice said.
As one, they turned toward Sareth.
“You must not go to the palace. The peril is too great for you here. You must leave the city at once.”
Durge glowered at the dark-haired man. “Why were you following us? Are you not the cause of our peril?”
Vani moved to Sareth, her golden eyes filled with concern. “Sareth, what is happening? And what has happened to you?”
Her gaze flickered downward. Grace looked down as well. His billowing pants partly concealed it, but by the way he moved Grace guessed the amputation to be just below the knee. And this world offered no custom-fitted, flesh-colored prostheses. Instead, his left leg ended in a carved wooden peg.
Sareth took Vani’s hand, squeezed it. As he did, Lirith turned away, but there was no time to ask the slender witch what was wrong.
“There is much I have to tell you,” Sareth said, his gaze intent on Vani. Then he looked at the others. “I would guess we all have much to say to one another. But it is not safe for you in Tarras. It would be best if you would come with me now. Our caravan is not far from the city. We can talk more safely there.”
Grace saw the suspicion in Durge’s face. Falken and Melia exchanged glances and unspoken messages. Grace didn’t know why they were in Tarras, or why Sareth had been following them. But Sareth was Vani’s brother, and Vani had done more than just save their lives. She had proven herself a friend.
“You should trust him,” Grace said. She glanced at Vani. “You should trust them both.”
As if Grace’s words were a command, Durge sheathed his sword and bowed to Sareth and Vani.
“You are friends of my mistress, and I have insulted you. I am certain my mistress will reprimand me severely.” The knight sounded almost hopeful.
“No, my good cloud,” Sareth said. “You were right to be suspicious. Especially in this city. But we can talk more later. We must leave at once.”
Melia glided forward. “We must at least stop by the hostel to settle our account with Madam Vil.”
“You cannot,” Sareth said.
Falken frowned. “What do you mean?”
“The House of Nine Fountains is no more.”
“What do you mean, it’s no more?” Aryn said with a gasp.
Sareth made a sharp motion with his hand. “I mean it is gone, just like the nave of the temple of Sif. There is only an empty pit where the hostel stood this morning.”
Grace didn’t know how a building could vanish, but by the expressions on the faces of the others they had an inkling.
Melia lifted a hand to her breast. “How many? How many were inside the hostel?”
“No one I overheard was certain,” Sareth said. “Perhaps a dozen guests and servants. And the proprietress of the hostel.”
Tears shone on Aryn’s cheeks now.