The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [125]
Travis waited until they were lost to sight, then he sank down to one of the benches. The magic had faded, leaving him weak and empty. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the iron box, and made certain it was tightly shut.
But it was too late, wasn't it? He had opened the box once before, thinking them a world away. Only they were here in Denver. Wraithlings. They would sense the presence of the Great Stones—if Jessie didn't tell the ironhearts about it first. Either way, the result was the same.
Mohg, Lord of Nightfall, knew Travis was here.
31.
A voice woke Aryn in the chill gray before dawn.
Sister, do you hear me?
Aryn flung a hand over her eyes and rolled over. The voice was in her mind. She was dreaming, that was all.
You must listen to me, sister. I have to leave now, and I know not when I shall return.
Aryn's eyes flew open, and she sat up straight in bed. This was no dream. “Mirda, is that you?”
Yes, sister. It is I. Look out your window.
Aryn threw back the covers, slid down from the bed, and padded barefoot across the cold floor. Light seeped into the room as she pushed back the curtain. Below, a figure in a green cape stood in the bailey, gazing upward.
“But I don't understand,” Aryn said aloud, forgetting to project her words along the Weirding. Her brain was still dull from sleep. “Where are you going?”
On a journey of great distance. I am needed elsewhere.
“But we need you here!” Aryn said, her breath fogging the window.
Mirda's voice was reassuring but adamant. No, sister, you do not. You and Lirith are both stronger than you believe. You have all you need to meet the trials ahead of you.
Despair crushed Aryn's heart. This couldn't be happening. Everyone had left them—Travis, Grace and Durge, Beltan and Vani—and now Mirda was leaving as well. She pressed her right hand against the chill glass. But why do you have to go?
There are others who do need me, and I must go to them at once. But do not fear, sister. I believe we shall see one another again before all is through.
There was so much Aryn wanted to say—how afraid she was of the future, how lost she felt, and how much she would miss Mirda's wisdom and strength. However, sorrow had swelled her throat, and for all her power the only words she could spin across the Weirding were, May Sia be with you.
Below, in the bailey, the figure in green lifted a hand.
She will be, sister. She will be.
The figure turned and glided from the bailey, disappearing through the gate just as the sun crested the horizon, transmuting the sky from lead to copper. Aryn gazed at the empty bailey for a long time, then turned to put on her dress and go tell Lirith what had happened.
The dark-haired witch wasn't in her chamber, and Sareth's room was empty as well. The two must already be at breakfast in the great hall. Aryn made her way there, but as she neared the doors she saw a crowd gathered around them. There were several men who were leaders among the Warriors of Vathris, as well as Lord Farvel and other members of the king's court, though there was no sign of Boreas himself. Some of the war leaders were grumbling angrily.
As Aryn approached, Lord Farvel broke away and limped toward her. The elderly seneschal wrung his hands, and his face was lined with worry.
“Lord Farvel, what's going on here?” Aryn said.
“Please, Your Highness, you must not fear. He is quite well—it's a scratch, nothing more. He'll make a swift recovery.”
Aryn gripped his arm. “What are you talking about, Lord Farvel? Is something wrong with the king?”
He blinked his watery eyes. “Why, no, Your Highness. It's not the king, it's Prince Teravian. An attempt was made on his life. It happened just minutes ago. But rest assured—we will find the one who lies behind this terrible deed.”
Aryn could only stare as if struck. Someone had tried to murder the prince? But who? And why?
A disturbing thought came to her. Mirda had departed the castle with strange haste this morning. Could that have something to do with what had happened to the prince?
No,