The Dark Remains - Mark Anthony [38]
“Do not worry, Lady Lirith,” Melia said. “I shall be happy to tell you any more I might learn.”
Lirith winced—not because the amber-eyed lady seemed to have read her mind, but rather at the coolness in her voice. Once more Lirith rued her foolishness in the great hall.
Before her courage fled her, she lifted the hem of her gown and stepped forward. “You must forgive me, Melia. I did not mean to be so cold to you before. I know you and Falken both work to great good in the world. It’s just …”
Melia’s visage softened. “Of course, dear. And I forgot how difficult it must be for you right now. I doubt the names Falken and Melia are fondly spoken in your circles.”
Lirith gave her head an emphatic shake. “But they don’t—”
Melia raised a slender hand. “No, dear, there is no need to speak of it further.”
Warmth filled Lirith. She knew she should resist, but she could not help herself as she rushed forward and caught the small woman in an embrace. However, Melia did not push her away, but instead returned the gesture with equal fierceness.
“We women of mystery must stick together, dear.”
At last the two women stepped apart. As they did, Melia cocked her head. “Where did you get that necklace, dear?”
Puzzled, Lirith glanced down. The spider charm rested against the bodice of her gown; it must have slipped out when she rushed forward.
“It’s just a trinket of the Mournish. It doesn’t mean anything.” Lirith felt her cheeks flush, for these words weren’t entirely true. It reminded her of him, did it not?
Melia tapped her jaw with a finger. “I believe you are wrong, dear. In my experience, the Mournish make no meaningless trinkets. Everything they craft, however simple, has a purpose and a power. And of all the symbols they fashion, the spider is among the strongest—and the most secret.”
“You sound as if you know them.”
“I know of them. In all the centuries I have walked upon Eldh, I have been among them countless times. Yet I cannot say I truly know the Mournish. I’m not certain anyone who is outside their clans does. And they have never accepted outsiders.”
Lirith turned away, toward the door of the shrine, and clutched the spider charm. “Is that so?”
“What is it, dear? Is something wrong?”
Lirith opened her mouth and knew she would not be able to stop herself from telling Melia everything: the card, the dreams, Sareth. However, at that moment two silhouettes appeared in the door of the shrine.
“Melia, there you are,” Falken said. The bard glanced at Durge beside him. “You were right—I don’t know why I didn’t think to look in the shrines first.”
The Embarran nodded. “It seemed the logical choice.”
Falken moved to the amber-eyed lady. “Are you all right? You were acting a bit peculiar this morning, and then I couldn’t find you.”
“It’s gallant of you to worry about me,” Melia said, “but I’m quite fine now.”
She smiled at Lirith, and Lirith smiled back.
Falken groaned. “Don’t tell me she’s been giving you lessons.”
“Lessons?” Lirith said in her most mysterious voice. “Concerning what?”
“That!” the bard said. “One beautiful woman who speaks in knowing riddles is quite enough. We don’t need another.”
“Come, Falken,” Melia said, taking the bard’s arm. “Let’s go back to our chamber. You can rant to your heart’s content there.”
The bard gave a snort, then stamped from the shrine, Melia in tow.
“They care for each other deeply,” a solemn voice said after a moment.
Lirith had almost forgotten Durge; the knight’s gray tunic blended with the gloom. But it was what he said that startled her most, for it seemed a tender expression for the usually stern knight. But then, Lirith knew the truth locked beneath his armored exterior.
“I think we can never understand what they have endured together,” she said.
Durge only nodded. In the dimness his craggy face seemed more somber than ever. But it wasn’t just the gray light. These last days the air of grimness the knight wore had