The Dark Remains Read Free

the spindly creature leaped for Aryn, eliciting another shriek. She heaved the monkey back at its owner, who caught it as he shouted at her in a hot and musical tongue.
    Lirith and Durge grasped the baroness’s shoulders and quickly steered her away. As they walked, Aryn collapsedagainst them in breathless, trembling laughter, tears streaming from her eyes. Lirith couldn’t help joining in, and even Durge’s craggy cheek seemed to twitch. At last the three of them came to a halt beside a tree, away from the circle of wagons. Heavy light infused the air, and the leaves whispered soft, green secrets above; the day was waning. Aryn’s laughter dwindled, and she let out a breath as she leaned against the smooth bark of the tree.
    “I feel sticky,” she said.
    Lirith nodded in agreement. Durge said nothing, but his mustaches stuck out at odd angles.
    “It’s nearly sunset,” Lirith said. “We should get back to the castle. The queen will notice if we’re not at supper.”
    Durge held a hand to his stomach and winced. “Please, my lady. May I beg that you do not mention the word ‘supper’ again this evening?”
    Lirith gave the knight a wry smile. “I told you not to go back for another spice pie.”
    “And no doubt I shall pay for my folly, my lady. Do I need the lash of your tongue to punish me as well?”
    Lirith smiled sweetly.
    Aryn stepped away from the tree. “Can we walk slowly back to the castle? It’s been such a fine day.”
    The two women started back across the green arm in arm as Durge lumbered none too swiftly behind them.
    “Now here is a sight,” said a voice as deep and rich as a bronze bell. “There walks the moon and the sun arm in arm. And look—a gloomy cloud follows behind them.”
    The three came to a halt, searching. It took Lirith a moment to see the hulking shape nestled in the deepening shade between two trees. Then she made out the ridged spine, the sinuous neck, the folded bat wings. Aryn gasped beside her, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Durge grope in vain for the greatsword that was not strapped to his back.
    For a heartbeat, Lirith was transported to the high, windswept bowl of stone where they had encountered the dragon Sfithrisir.
    And here are two Daughters of Sia, both doomed to betray their sisters and their mistress
.…
    But how could such a terrible and ancient creature be here, in a well-tended grove beneath the queen’s castle of Ar-tolor?
    A shadow moved between the trees: the shape of man. “Good sisters? Good brother? Is something amiss?”
    It was the thrumming voice again—the warm voice of a man, not the dry hiss of a dragon. Realization drained through Lirith, leaving her trembling. How could she have been so foolish? It was not a real dragon before them, but rather a Mournish wagon carved in the shape of one. Now that she peered closer, she could see the craft’s spoked wheels, its circular windows, and the peeling, painted scales of the dragon’s neck. Yet they had not seen this wagon before. Why was it set apart from all the others?
    The man stepped closer, still awaiting an answer.
    Lirith swallowed. “It was nothing, sir. A shadow of the past, that is all, and soon gone.”
    The man paused, and it seemed he stiffened. Then he said softly, “I have found in my travels it is usually best not to dismiss what one glimpses in shadows.”
    Before Lirith could speak again, a cracked voice drifted through the wagon’s window.
    “Sareth, who is it out there? I cannot see them, blast my failing eyes. I should give them to Mirgeth and his jars for all the good they do me.”
    “It is … two beautiful ladies and a stern knight, al-Mama.”
    “Well, bring them here where I can look at them. I will see their fates for them.”
    “This way,” the man said, gesturing to the wagon.
    “Al-Mama does not like to be kept waiting. She says at her age there is no time for patience.”
    He turned and started toward the wagon. Lirith glanced at Aryn and