Read The Well of Wyrding (Revenant Wyrd Book 3) for Free Online Page B

their mugs of ale after dinner, Rosalee nursing a glass of wine.
    “You’re too much of a lady,” Grace commented, staring at Rose’s glass of wine.
    “Oh, Grace, you are manly enough for both of us. In fact, at times I think under your robes you might even have a—”
    “Ladies?” Dalah cut in, turning the conversation back to her question.
    Grace smirked.
    “We have to raise the ceiling sometime,” Rosalee said and took a sip of her wine.
    “I really don’t want you to use your wyrd for that,” Grace said. There was a note of submission in her voice.
    “Well, I’m open for ideas. I personally don’t like the pain of using wyrd either. However, unless you are an accomplished mason who can restore the ceiling to its proper placement, then I think there is no alternative.”
    Grace gave in. “Yes then, tomorrow we restore the ceiling to where it’s supposed to be.”
    “Think of it this way,” Rose said, gesturing vaguely, her mind seemingly somewhere other than the current conversation, “At least now we won’t have to worry about the cold draft it’s letting in, or cleaning up rainwater before we get to work cleaning the rest of the room.”
    “That’s true,” Grace said, reaching into her pockets for her pipe and finding several pieces of paper. One she knew, and laid on the table. That particular piece of parchment had the list of dead nymphs’ names on it, the nymphs that Porillon had slain in Betikhan Valley what seemed like ages ago now. The faun Orilyn had said there was a message in the names, but Grace had not been able to find it.
    She filled her pipe and lit it, nursing her ale. Conversation tonight, it seemed, was not going to be the normal joyous affair, for tomorrow they were going to attempt something that they had not attempted in some time. Dalah was going to use a massive amount of wyrd — or, as she suggested lightly before, maybe given the current state of wyrd she would only have to expend a little amount and the job would be done. Her wyrd might over-calculate and do more than it was intended to. Grace worried that maybe the wyrd would shoot the debris right out of the hole in the ceiling and scatter it for miles around the forest, in which case they would never find it. The small consolation was that at least the floor would be clear for the ritual to access the Well of Wyrding … they didn’t exactly need the ceiling repaired.
    The night, needless to say, passed in near silence, and before they knew it they were making their way to the northern tower of the Mirror of the Moon, where they had set up beds. The sounds of night heavy outside their windows lulled them into restful sleep.

    Lately Grace had taken to sleeping like the dead, given to physical strain of what they were doing and the emotional stress they were being put under. Normally they took the reliving of their past with ease and a laugh, for those were good times, but digging through so many memories inevitably brought up the end of those happy times, and the starting of The Age of Sorrows, the day the world had split and their angelic leaders had fallen from grace.
    Grace woke that morning with an acute beam of light blinding her. With her normal groan of disgust at the light of day she rolled over, noticing that Dalah was sprawled out on her cushions, snoring. Rosalee was lying flat on her back with a smile on her face. In fact it looked as though Rosalee had not moved all night, her hair still tucked neatly behind her head as it had been when she fell asleep.
    Grace felt a moment of disgust that they were still sleeping. No matter how much she hated the morning, she was the first to rise, and so made her way down to the kitchens where she prepared coffee and breakfast.
    Through the time that they had been here, they had cleaned a lot. In fact, the temple was beginning to resemble some of its old splendor, apart from the main worship hall where the battle between Porillon and the two LaFayes happened.
    The