The Dark Remains by Mark Anthony Read Free Book Online Page A

queen?”
    “I fear you are too late, my lady,” Durge said.
    Aryn frowned at the knight. “Ivalaine hasn’t passed away, Durge. She’s only at breakfast.”
    “We were about to find some breakfast ourselves,” Falken said, slinging the battered wooden case that held his lute over his shoulder. “Will you join us, Lirith?”
    She nodded, then took his arm when he proffered it.
    “Falken,” Aryn said as they moved toward a side door, “you still haven’t told us why you’ve come to Ar-tolor. I thought you were going to travel for a while with Tome.”
    The bard shrugged. “Tome decided he’d rather rest. But then, he
is
over two thousand years old, so we didn’t argue the point. Besides, when we heard a High Coven was being called, we decided to come here instead.”
    Lirith froze. “But Queen Ivalaine has only just called for the coven.”
    “Yes, dear,” Melia said. “We know.”
    Once again Lirith studied the amber-eyed woman. While no longer truly a goddess, Melia’s powers were still mysterious and vast. The Witches had always respected her … but they were wary of her as well. Melia was of the new religions of Tarras, not the ancient worship of Sia.
    Then again, it seems that those who shun the name Sia rise most quickly among the Witches these days, is that not so Sister Lirith?
    The furrows in Durge’s brow deepened. “I have not heard of this High Coven. What is it?”
    Lirith opened her mouth, wondering what she should tell the knight, but before she could speak, another voice—cracked and high-pitched—answered for her.
    “
My good, glum knight, don’t you know?
    It’s where sewers spin and spinners sew
.
    Weaving secrets to and fro
—
    So let’s to the High Coven go
.”
    By the time Lirith caught a flash of green and yellow, he was already scrambling down a tapestry like a great, gangly spider. He must have been hiding up among the beams of the hall, listening to everything they said.
    “Begone with you,” Durge rumbled, his hand moving to the knife at his hip as the fool scuttled toward them.
    Falken laid a hand on Durge’s arm. “No, he was king in this hall once. Let him stay.”
    Tharkis spread bony arms and bowed, the bells of his cap jangling dissonantly. “No wish to bother, no wish to harm. A poem I would speak, our great guests to charm.”
    Durge did not look like he was in the mood for poems. “Speak it, knave, and then away with you.”
    Tharkis bowed so low his pointed boots touched his brow. However, the moment Durge glanced away, the fool performed a caper, miming with uncanny verisimilitude the act of drawing a sword and falling upon it. Lirith swallowed a giggle, and Aryn clamped a hand to her mouth.
    Durge snapped back around. “Whatever your history may be, Fool, your antics are not appreciated here.”
    “Oh, I don’t know,” Melia said, moving past the glowering Embarran. “I believe I rather like him. Speak your poem for us, Master Tharkis. Please.”
    The fool leaped to his feet, then spoke shrill words in a fractured rhyme:
    “
The wolf said to the moon one day
,
    ‘I think I can no longer stay
    Upon this path so long I’ve run
—
    It always ends where it’s begun.’
    “
The moon said to the wolf one night
,
    ‘Come with me, and we’ll take flight
.
    We’ll eat of suns and drink of stars
—
    All we’ve dreamed will here be ours
.’
    “
But though as much as he did try
,
    The wolf could never leap so high
.
    Nor could the moon descend so deep
—
    I’ve heard it said they both yet weep
.”
    Throughout the verse, the smile on Melia’s face gradually faded. When Tharkis finished speaking, she looked away. Falken glanced at her and sighed. Lirith didn’t understand why, but the poem had seemed to sadden the two.
    “Your rhyme makes for a poor welcome, Fool,” she said.
    “Did I say welcome?” A sly gleam entered Tharkis’s crossed eyes. “Perhaps I meant farewell. One’s so like the other, it’s often hard to tell.”
    “Or