Windwalker - Elaine Cunningham [101]
A band of three masked, black-clad women burst into the hall. They regarded Liriel with narrowed eyes. "Who are you?" demanded the tallest of the three, a very slender woman with an abundance of dark brown hair.
"Leave this to me," Fyodor told Liriel softly. He stepped forward, sank into a low bow. "I am Fyodor of village Dernovia, recently returned from a task given me by women of your order."
"As I well know." One of the witches removed her mask, revealing a round, pleasant face. A web of lines radiated from the corners of bright blue eyes. She was old. That still surprised Liriel. Drow aged slowly, and few lived long enough to reach old age. Those who had the power to survive also possessed the means to prolong youth. In this woman, though, the mark of years seemed more an ornament than a deterioration.
"Zofia," Fyodor said. His eyes went to Liriel, and the old witch followed his gaze.
"We know Fyodor, but who is his friend?"
He seized upon that word. "A true friend, to me and Rashemen."
"Surely you haven't forgotten Sylune?" Liriel quickly supplied.
Fyodor suppressed a groan, and the two witches with Zofia exchanged puzzled glances. They both removed their masks, as if to better regard the stranger in their midst.
"Sylune, witch of Shadowdale?" demanded the slender Witch, who was clearly the youngest of the tree. "Sylune is dead."
Liriel glanced at Fyodor. He gave her an almost imperceptible nod. "Ah, but Sylune has had a rather active afterlife," Zofia put in with a faint, dry smile.
"This is no ghost, and no witch," the young woman insisted.
She spun toward Liriel, her fists clenched and her face white with rage. "I demand that you remove my mother's mask, and submit yourself to truth-testing!"
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
truth testing
Zofia held up her hand. "All in good time, Anya. First we should learn what became of Fraeni and how this silver-haired woman came to wear our Sister's mask."
"We fought a swarm of kobolds who had fallen under the spell of a thornapple haunt, and ran into the tower for refuge," Liriel said honestly. "There were other monsters, as well, and they followed us in. The witch was overcome. I took the mask from her after she fell." She looked toward Anya. "Your mother died bravely, fighting an evil foe."
Fyodor winced at this painful truth. The fallen woman had believed she was trapping and attacking a drow and a traitorous human. He wondered briefly if this was not the simple truth. If he had not brought Liriel to Rashe-men, the shadow of Lolth would never have fallen on this tower.
"Where is she now?"
"I do not know," the disguised drow said. "She disappeared. I don't know where she went."
"She speaks truly," Zofia said. "Your mother's body will return to us, young Ethran, and her spirit has never left. As for this outlander, perhaps she is who she claims to be. Who among us has not seen stranger things?"
Anya scowled. "We will see."
"I have seen the truth-testing done," Fyodor said quietly. "It can be a terrible thing. I will not permit it."
The young witch looked at him in disbelief. "What could you possibly do to stop me?"
"I could take her place." Fyodor shook his head, cutting off Liriel's protest. "It is my right to do so. I am pledged guardian to a powerful and honorable wychlaran. This much I will swear, on my sword and on my life."
"That is not needed," Zofia said gently. "You have the name of an honest man. What of the battle frenzy? You have mastered it? And you have found the Windwalker? Of course you have, or you would not have returned."
Liriel quickly removed the gold amulet from her neck and held it out. "We have no further need of the Windwalker. Fyodor's rune is carved upon Yggdrasil's Child."
The old woman's eyes lit with interest. "A tale I await with interest. Well done, Sister. No, you keep the amulet. I suspect that it is yours to wear."
"Zofia, are you very certain?" The third witch, a thin woman of middle years, spoke for the first time. "It has been many years since Sylune walked among us, and your eyes-"
"I am not yet