The Blight of Muirwood (22 page)

“By the fire then?” Marciana joined her, sitting at the mouth of the fireplace, staring into the lapping flames and the Leering’s eyes. The scent of the soap against Lia’s wrist, the way her hair smelled, even the chemise which had been packed with purple mint to keep away moths. For a moment, she wondered what it would be like to be a noble like the other two were. To have more than a spare dress. The chemise was made of the softest material she had ever worn.

Silently, Ellowyn gathered up the dirty gear and went to the tub and commenced washing them.

“You are pretty, Lia,” Marciana said. “You will not struggle to find a willing husband when it is your time. But it will not be Colvin.” She shook her head, her expression full of pity as well as sympathy. She stroked Lia’s arm gently. “I need to explain to you why.”

Lia looked into the flames, grateful that Marciana had kept her voice low. She knew that Ellowyn could hear them, but at least the girl had the decency to pretend to ignore them as she scrubbed the leader girdle with soapy water. “He made it clear why I cannot be with him. I am not a simpleton.”

“No, you are not. But in his fit of anger, he did not explain something to you. It is important, Lia. Have you ever heard of the
irrevocare
sigil?”

Lia turned, her eyebrows raising. “I have not.”

“It is a maston custom. You know so many of them, I was not certain if you had heard of it. The term is an ancient one, a practice that goes back to the First parents. It is a binding sigil, one that has the power to last perpetually. It lasts forever. Only an Aldermaston can invoke them and only within the most important chamber of the Abbey. It has been the custom for generations within the order of the mastons to bind certain things using an
irrevocare
sigil. Specifically, a marriage between two maston families. When this is done, the power of the Medium flows even stronger with the next generation. That is why maston families tend to intermarry and spurn marriages to those who are not of the order. To the Earl of Dieyre, for example, marriage is a means of growing his already disgusting supply of wealth. But a maston who comes from a long line of marriages bound by the sigil will always seek out another of that station. Always the next generation is more powerful in the Medium because of it.” She squinted at Lia. “Am I making sense to you?”

Lia looked down at her hands. “What you are telling me is that your parents were married this way. Possibly back many generations.”

“Six, actually. There are some maston families who have tomes recording their lineage back to the Flood.” She smiled sadly and touched Lia’s arm. “I know that Colvin fancies you. He admires and respects you. If he had deeper feelings than this, he has done well to tame them and keep them hidden, even from me. But he will marry a girl who is a maston whose parents were married by the sigil. He is concerned about future generations, not just his own feelings. Or yours.”

Lia had never heard of
irrevocare
sigils before. There was no real reason a wretched should be told about them, but that did not stop it from aching inside her. Being bound to Colvin forever? The thought made her blush.

“It is not my fault that I am a wretched,” Lia murmured softly.

“I know, Lia. That is why it is so pitiable. I just wanted you to know. Colvin behaved poorly this afternoon. He did not expect your reaction. Likely you had a father who was very strong in the Medium who fell in love with a girl who was probably a learner herself. Unable to tame their feelings for each other, you became the result. Not because they did not love you. Not because they did not love each other. But there are so few mastons left, and even fewer who will be patient enough to wait for the sigil to be performed. Colvin is qualified for the sigil because of our parents. He is determined to have it.”

A bitterness twisted deep inside of Lia. “He is nothing if not stubborn.”

Almost as if to answer that thought, a firm knock sounded on the door. She knew it was him. Alarm flashed in Marciana’s eyes, but Lia stood and went to the door. “Who is it?” she demanded, hand firmly on the crossbar.

“I need to speak with my sister.” Cold, stern, implacable.

Colvin.

Mustering her courage and quelling her self-pity, Lia lifted the crossbar and tugged at the door. The hall was dimly lit and Colvin carried a candelabra, the flame flickering in his eyes as he stared at her. He blinked, seeing her in his sister’s chemise. There was something in his expression, a stumble of some kind and if his defenses were momentarily breached.

“What is it?” Lia asked, her voice cold.

Colvin swallowed. “Dieyre is in my room. Marciana – I want you to hear what he has to say.”

She rose from the fire and advanced, her face skeptical. “What is happening, Colvin?”

“I will explain on the way. He insisted you be there or he would tell me nothing more.”

“What of Ellowyn?” Lia asked warningly.

Colvin nodded to her but looked slightly annoyed. “Under your protection, as the Aldermaston said.”

For a moment, Lia had worried that he would suggest Ellowyn come with them. That they would try and steal away from the Abbey that night with or without her help.

Marciana kissed Lia’s cheek. “I will knock when I return, but you can sleep if you like. The bed is soft.”

Lia grimaced. “I hold vigil this night, remember? I will be awake when you come.” She looked in Colvin’s eyes, saw the mask concealing his feelings again. He dipped his head to her and then started down the hall with his sister, whispering to her about Dieyre. She watched a moment as he left, her heart aching at the yawning chasm separating them.

After settling the crossbar back in place, Lia turned and found Ellowyn still scrubbing the clothes clean, humming a little tune to herself. It was the first time they had been alone together. She had no recollection of ever having had a conversation with the girl. Jealousy was the normal feeling she experienced when she looked at Ellowyn. Watching her hum and scrub, she felt the first pangs of gratitude and even a little fondness for the simple girl.

Lia approached Ellowyn awkwardly, wondering whether she wanted to talk or not. Without lifting her head, she heard Ellowyn’s shy, reserved voice.

“My parents were married by the
irrevocare
sigil. It was done by two Aldermastons by a plight troth. My father in Pry-Ree. My mother in Dahomey, for she was living in exile. They loved each other a great deal to risk it, do you know why? If one of them had perished before they could consummate it, the other would never be able to marry again. That is true love, I think. My uncle told me so.” She glanced at Lia covertly and her voice went from simple to sardonic. “But Colvin does not love
me
. Not in any way. He is gentle, thoughtful, and patient. He pats me on the head like a little chick that has just broken free of the shell.” She gave Lia a sidelong look and then sighed.

Lia reached the edge of the tub, saw her shirt hanging by a peg on the changing screen, as well as the girdle. Ellowyn scrubbed thoroughly at one of her bracers. “If I had a fortune, the Earl of Dieyre would wish to marry me. He is so handsome. But I do not have a fortune. Yet. Nor good looks. The Pry-rians want me regardless. Some ancient family speaking a language that would bewilder me so I could produce an heir and restore their former glory.” She scrubbed a little furiously at a particularly muddy spot. “A vessel. That is all that I am to them. Like that water dish to rinse your hair.”

Lia saw Ellowyn in a new way and it startled her a little. “You almost sound resentful of your new life,” she said.

“Resentful? No…I am terrified, Lia. I have felt nothing but sheer terror since I left Sempringfall Abbey. I miss it dreadfully.” She squinted at the dark leather and scratched out a stain with her fingernail. “Imagine being plucked from your home, then shuttled forth from place to place, Abbey to Abbey. Learn this. Say that. Eat this way. Do not laugh like that. It is not proper. What is taking you so long? We learned that word yesterday, you still have not learned it?” Her face twisted into a scowl. “Never a moment to myself. Never a moment to say what I really feel. Except moments like now.”

“I do not even know you,” Lia hedged.

“I do not care. If I do not talk, I will burst. This is how we would work at my Abbey. Work and whisper amongst ourselves. Talk about the boys and which ones liked us and which ones we scorned. I miss that. I miss it dreadfully. Marciana does not understand me. Colvin does not understand me. But you do. How I am jealous of you and Sowe.” She kept working, her scrubbing motions looking almost desperate. “There, this is looking much better, I think. I would trade these dirty clothes of yours for mine in a moment. I do not belong in their world. The Leerings mock me. Truly, they do. The Medium will not hearken to me, no matter how I plead with it. No matter that my parents were both skilled. I cannot do it because I am terrified. Every day, I worry that someone is going to try and take me. To force me to do something I do not want to do. To marry someone I do not know just to bear their child. And that in my fear, I will let them. I will do whatever I am asked, because I am supposed to. Not because I want to.” She winced, gnawing on her thumb a moment, then put down the bracer and seized the other one. She looked sidelong at Lia. “So…you love him too?”

There was a double-meaning in her words. “You care for him, Ellowyn?” she asked.

The other girl smiled sadly, scrubbing with zest. “How can I not, Lia? He is so different than other men. He never says more than he feels. He is thoughtful and wise for someone so young. He is never rude or conceited. I remember when he and Edmon first arrived at Sempringfall. You should have seen the gaggle of us at the laundry after they rode in. Most of the girls thought Edmon the prettiest boy they had ever seen, but he did not catch my fancy. It was the Earl of Forshee – so stern and poised. A dark beauty. He fears nothing. Absolutely nothing. I fear everything unless he is near me.”

Lia sat by the tub, listening closely. She knew what Colvin feared. She knew so many of his inner secrets, his qualms.

“I was elbow-deep in suds…just like now…when he came with the Aldermaston. My name was Hillel Lavender. Did you know that? There was Colvin and the Aldermaston together. He was looking at us and it was quiet, except a few nervous giggles. Before the Aldermaston said my name, he looked at me. His eyes – how do you describe them? Like smoke and sky together, I thought. He was frowning slightly, as he often does. But his eyes just burned into mine, as if he knew who I was. The Aldermaston spoke my name and beckoned me. You can imagine the jealousy and the whispers when we left. In the Aldermaston’s study, Colvin told me my true name. Ellowyn not Hillel. The Aldermaston warned what would happen if I left the Abbey. He said the old king had sworn the raze the Abbey if I was revealed in any way.” She looked sidelong at Lia. “It is a guilt that I carry. And a fear. What would I do if they burned the Abbey…because of me? Colvin swore an oath he would protect me and that my uncle’s knights would protect the Sempringfall. I swear I fell in love with him as he spoke those words. That he would guard my life with his own.”

Lia swallowed thickly.
You are right, though. He does not love you
, she wanted to say, but she could not bring herself to utter it.

“Though I am afraid, I feel calm when he is near. He has tried to help me learn how to summon the Medium, but in truth, it is even harder to try when he is near me for I cannot concentrate. I keep staring at his mouth, his hands, his eyes. He speaks so passionately, I want to succeed just to please him. But he has never once uttered a breath that he cares about me. He will ask if I am thirsty. Or tired. Or if my stomach ails me. But he does not confide in me, as he does with Ciana. Or you.” The last was added with a hint of bitterness. “I wish I could be as outspoken as you, Lia. You never fear to say what you are thinking. It serves you well. I always fear I will be misunderstood, so I say not much at all.”

“Until now,” Lia said with a smile and a little shove. “I have hardly heard you say five words together since you arrived. I did not realize you were so watchful. Or carried so many concerns.”

Ellowyn flushed and smiled guiltily. “I could talk to Sowe, or Bryn, or you. In truth, I still feel like a wretched, even though I know my birth. You act like a highborn girl despite your station. Why is that?”

Lia bent her neck and thought a moment. “It is my temperament. I do not like being sad, so I choose not to be sad…as often as I can. I try not to regret what I do not have and enjoy what the Medium has given me. I have much to be grateful for. I have the Aldermaston’s trust. I have Sowe and Brynn as friends. I have had good teachers in Pasqua and Martin. And I have enjoyed the torturous pleasure of Colvin’s friendship, until today when my outspokenness, as you put it, ruined it. I swear I would look miserable right now if I did not feel like laughing at myself for being such a fool. An
irrevocare
sigil. How could I have known such a thing existed?”

Ellowyn squeezed the final garment and set it down. “You could not have known until you were told. Just as I did not know that my parents were married that way. They are dead, of course. But they are together still outside of this flesh. Some day, do you think we will see them again? Those who have passed on?”

Lia pursed her lips and thought. “Martin believed it. He said there is a fair country after this life, where there are no knaves. I imagine the Earl of Dieyre will not be there then,” she added impishly.