The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [167]
Aryn looked up as the door opened and closed. Sareth drew close to the fire, an odd expression on his face.
“What is it?” Lirith said, sitting up straight. “Did you learn something?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “I think I know who's going to be let in to see the prince tonight. Not the specific individual, mind you, but at least what sort of person.”
Aryn frowned. “What do you mean, Sareth? Speak plainly.”
The Mournish man shifted from foot to foot. “Lirith, perhaps I should tell you first, then—”
“I am certain whatever you learned is fit for Aryn's ears as well as mine,” Lirith said with a stern look.
Sareth swallowed hard, then nodded. “I found one of my warrior acquaintances standing guard in the entry hall. He's a man from Al-Amún, like Sai'el Ajhir, and he owes me quite a few gold pieces. I told him I'd forgive his debt if he told me who was going to be allowed to come to the prince's chamber that night. He didn't know, not exactly, but he knew enough.”
“Well, who is it?” Aryn said.
Sareth paused, searching for the right words to say. “From what I gathered, it's a tradition among the followers of Vathris. On the night before a man is to ride into his first battle, it is customary for him to become a man in all ways, if he is not already one.”
Lirith leaped to her feet. “They mean to make a man of him!” She gripped Sareth's arm. “They will send a woman to his chamber to relieve him of his maidenhead.”
Aryn's cheeks grew hot—and not from the fire. “But Teravian is not a follower of Vathris!”
“Isn't he?” Sareth said. “His father is.”
Aryn didn't know how to respond. It wasn't as if she were jealous. However, fate had decreed she and Teravian were to be married. Surely if she was supposed to keep her purity until their wedding day, he could be expected to do the same.
Lirith clenched her hands into fists. “This is dark news. Dark news indeed.”
“I imagine it is upsetting for Lady Aryn,” Sareth said, giving the baroness a sympathetic look. “But I must say, beshala, it is hardly uncommon for a man to have been with a woman before he is married.”
“That's not it,” Lirith said. “They mean to make a man of him. A full man.”
She looked at Aryn, and at last Aryn understood the source of her agitation. Long had the Witches labored to bring about a man of Sia, and with Teravian they had succeeded. He was a male witch, as strong in the Touch as any woman. However, according to Sister Mirda, he would not come into his full power until he was made a man. Quickly, they explained these things to Sareth.
“Liendra,” he said in disgust. “Is it she, then?”
Lirith curled her lip. “I doubt Sister Liendra will do the deed, but I have no doubt she is behind this plot, and I must say it is a clever one. She is using the traditions of the Warriors against them.”
Aryn's stomach churned; she wished she had not drunk so much wine. “Do you think he will use his power for the Witches?”
“I don't know,” Lirith said, holding a hand to her brow. “Perhaps unwittingly.”
Aryn stood up; her nerves felt pulled as taut as the strings of a lute. “We have to go to him. We have to warn him about what they're planning.”
“I think you've forgotten our friend Sai'el Ajhir,” Sareth said with a sour look. “We'll never get a message to the prince.”
“What about speaking across the Weirding?” Aryn asked.
Lirith made a sharp motion with her hand. “No. There are too many of Liendra's witches about. Such a conversation would surely be overheard. Besides, there is another way.” She glanced at Sareth. “Would you leave us for a moment?”
He frowned at her. “Why?”
“Please, beshala.” She touched his arm. His eyes locked on hers for a moment, and Aryn thought he was going to protest, only then he sighed and left the chamber.
“What's this all about?” Aryn said after Sareth had left.
Lirith did not turn around. “I will find the maid who is to be sent to Teravian this night, and I will take her place.”
“To talk to him, you mean?”
“No, to do what the one sent to him must do. To make him into a man.”
Aryn trembled,