The Blight of Muirwood (30 page)

Lia looked at him, shocked.

“Oh yes, little sister. Hautland or Dahomey. Or any of the other Abbeys throughout the kingdoms. The Apse is but a gateway between them. When you are stronger, you will be able to cross on your own. But for now, your first time, you needed help.”

“I have so many questions,” Lia said.

He smiled but shook his head. “I may not answer them.”

Lia bit her lip. “I will ask anyway. Is the Queen Dowager a hetaera?”

Maderos looked at her shrewdly. “What do you think, lass?”

“I think that she is, but I am not sure.”

“How did you come by your suspicion then?” He arched a brow at her.

“The Medium.”

He reached and grabbed her chin and pinched it between his fingers, waggling her head. “You think that I would give you any other answer than what the Medium gave you? Think, child! Do not doubt. Do not hesitate. Do not worry yourself over what may or may not be. The Medium always speaks the truth. And what is truth? Eh? What is truth?”

Lia stared at him, uncomfortable. Her chin hurt a little. “Truth is things as they really are. Not what we wish it to be.”

Maderos quit pinching her and patted her cheek. “Truth, sister, is knowledge of things as they really are. As you said. But it is not confined to that. You cannot confine truth to those terms. It is knowledge of things as they are, but it is also knowledge of things as they were. The past. Why did the old king fall at Winterrowd? You can ask any number of men and they will all tell you what they believe to be the truth. But you and I – we
know
the truth. It is also knowledge of things as they will be. What you will become, for example. Your destiny.”

Lia shivered.

“Give me your hand, child.”

She hesitated, wondering if he would squeeze it too hard, but she extended it to him. He clasped it in between his hands. His skin was warm and calloused, rough as stone. With a piercing gaze, he looked into her eyes.

“I Gift you. With a glimpse at your future. Not to see it clearly, but to see the truth of it when it is time to know the truth of it. There is a Gift that you already possess, child, that you did not name. The Gift of Seering. Your father had it. You have experienced it already if you remember. Inside your mind, you have seen events unfold that happened in the past. Or were happening in that moment. The night before Winterrowd, you saw the king in his tent. That was the Gift of Seering. When the Aldermaston taught you about Idumea here in the Abbey, you saw the past and the fall of Ereshkigal. Use this gift well. Only the Medium can bring it to you. So now I give you a glimpse of the future that your gift may be complete. This hand – will impact the lives of millions of souls. Your name will be had for good as well as for evil. But to those who know the truth, they will always hold you in reverence for what this hand will yet do.”

She licked her lips, not feeling any differently. “What does that mean, Maderos?”

He grinned at her. “You will see when it is time.” He patted her hand. “Let me teach you wisdom, one of the hidden secrets of this second life, just as it was a secret in the first life. Surely you have already learned that men and women differ. Each has strengths and weaknesses. It must be so, for we are incomplete without the other. Here is wisdom, if you will hear it.” His hand squeezed hers gently. “The greatest power over a man is his desire to please a particular woman. This is crucial to understand. So much in this life hangs on it. It is this inherent desire which gives that woman power to make or destroy him. Most men will never confess that they are influenced…easily influenced…by the women they prefer. Wives, lovers, mothers, daughters, or sisters. Many have no idea that they are. This knowledge is the source of the hetaera’s power. It
is
powerful, child. So subtle and powerful. It can and does influence men to murder. It causes men to forsake their sworn oaths and duties. Even mastons. These feelings can shatter mountains into broken pebbles. They can break down the strongest man. Remember this teaching. It will benefit you in the future as you ponder it.”

Lia shuddered. “Is the Queen Dowager more powerful than the Aldermaston?” she whispered.

“Of course she is,” Maderos answered. “Because he is only a man. She is more powerful than Garen Demont because he is a man. More than your friend, the
pethet,
because he is a man. More than a dozen mastons together with all their fierce wills combined.”

Lia’s heart froze with fear.

“But,” Maderos said, wagging his finger at her. “Is she more powerful than you? That is the question, is it not?”

“Is she?” Lia pleaded.

“What does the Medium tell you?” Maderos asked pointedly.

In the silence of her mind, the Medium said nothing.

The Aldermaston looked at Lia’s expression and his eyes wrinkled with worry. “Did you fail?” he asked her, his voice cracking into a hoarse cough.

She realized her expression was alarming him. She shook her head slowly. “I am a maston.”

He shut his eyes in relief. “For a moment, I doubted. I should not have. What troubles you?”

Lia swallowed painfully, her mind swollen with conflicting thoughts. “I…I did not realize it. The danger, Aldermaston. The Abbey is in grave danger. The war with Demont…it is just a disguise. I understand now like I have never understood before. She wants to destroy the Abbey. She wants to destroy you. This is not about Demont. This is not about Ellowyn. This fight is about Muirwood. She will kill you.”

She gazed into his eyes and saw the truth of it there. He knew it as well. She wanted to bury her face in her hands. What if she was not strong enough? What if Pareigis, the Queen Dowager, could breach the Abbey’s defenses? They would all be slaughtered.

The Aldermaston reached out and stroked her cheek, near her eye. “That is my burden, Lia. Not yours. I am touched by your compassion. It warms my heart, truly.” He traced his finger across her cheek. “Do you not think it odd…deliberate…even contrived…that you are here just now? Of all the people in the kingdom who I would want standing by my side, it is you who have not forsaken me. A hunter-maston. A wretched of Pry-Ree. You are here for a reason, Lia. I knew that when I first laid eyes on your tiny body, wrapped in a blanket with a shawl draped over a Cruciger orb.” His voice was thick with emotion, a breathy rasp. “The Medium told me then that you would play a role in Muirwood’s destiny. You are special to me in ways you cannot understand, in ways you cannot yet appreciate. Thank you for being here, Lia, in this hour when I need you most.”

She had never heard more tender words from his mouth in all her life. Instinctively, she reached out and hugged him close. She had never done that before. Never. It surprised him, this stern man who could rebuke with a glance or a scowl, could command and even the skies would obey him. He stood stiffly, awkwardly, and then settled his hand on her head tenderly. She closed her eyes. He was family to her and her feelings were sacred. The closest thing to a father. Pasqua was her mother. Jon Hunter and Astrid Page had always been like brothers. Sowe her sister. Old Martin an irascible uncle. The family of Muirwood.

The Abbey door opened. Lia pulled away from the old man, tears swarming in her eyes. It was Prestwich. His eyes were blazing with anger.

“What is it?” the Aldermaston said.

“I know you warned me not to disturb you,” Prestwich replied, his voice thick with outrage. “But I had to tell you. The Queen…the Dowager…she is dancing at the maypole. Her manner…her form. It is shocking. There are learners who want to come back inside the grounds with their families. Can we let them?”

The Aldermaston’s eyes burned with fury. “No. They made their choice. Do not look at her, Prestwich. Warn them not to look at her as well.” He turned to Lia. “You will change back into the learner robes. The chaen is yours to wear. It will guard you against the Myriad Ones. It will protect you from them so long as you keep the oaths you made. The Queen Dowager will come at dawn.”

* * *

The Aldermaston was right. She came at dawn.

An unusual mid-summer mist cloaked the grounds. It was strange for that time of year, but it was a strange morning. Lia had not slept, keeping a post at the gatehouse. She did not watch the festival through the gate. Only the shadows illuminated by the blazing fires would she look at. It seemed that each dance got more and more wild. Everyone was drinking cider. She could hear the metal cups clanking. The Queen Dowager taught the girls a new dance, a dance without a partner. Some of her men had strange instruments they played. She had never heard such haunting music before. It made her want to look, to see what was happening beyond the gate. Part of her craved to see it, but she held the thoughts at bay with memories of Colvin, Marciana, Ellowyn. Memories from the time they had stayed at the Abbey. The memories helped her ignore the celebration outside. With the memories came the pain of losing Colvin again. The subtle throbbing was like an ache that would never fade.

The celebration ended and it was quiet until just before dawn. She was warm enough with a cloak wrapped around her, but the chaen was warm and soft. It reminded her of everything she had learned inside the Abbey. The knowledge twisted and turned, showing new angles and interpretations. Deep in the dawn mist, she heard the horses before she saw them. The clatter and rattle of hooves seemed to fill the air, advancing like an army.

“Get the Aldermaston,” she whispered to Astrid. He nodded and darted through the mist like a shadow.

Lia gripped her bow and tensed the string, bringing the cloak open to reveal the arrow-feathers stuffed in the quiver. She stood near the gate, breathing deeply, trying to calm her nerves.

The white stallion emerged first from the mist, flanked by riders in black. The Queen Dowager was no longer veiled. Her face was beautiful and cold as she gazed down at Lia. Her black cloak was lined with silver fur, open at the throat. Her fingers held the reins tenderly. Gently, she smoothed the dress at her leg.

“Open the gate,” Pareigis said. It was said in a low tone, almost a purr. Behind the words, the force of the Medium struck Lia like a hammer. Her mind recoiled from the surge, but she gritted her teeth.

“I do not have the key,” she answered truthfully.

Pareigis scowled, thwarted and furious. The Earl of Dieyre chuckled wryly, his horse appeared next to the Queen Dowager’s.

“She is wiser than she looks,” he murmured. “You sent for the Aldermaston?”

Lia nodded.

“Well done. Ah, he is coming now.”

Pareigis’ eyes lifted, looking past Lia’s shoulder. There were at least thirty riders, a wall of black behind her. The horse stamped and snorted impatiently. Scowls met her on every face. Lia glanced through the crowd until her eyes met Scarseth’s. He stared at her coldly, his eyes glowing silver.

The Aldermaston approached slowly, awkwardly, stiffly. She heard it in the way he moved, the pain whistling in sharp puffs through clenched teeth. Her mind filled with anger and she clenched the bow. It was the Queen Dowager who caused the Aldermaston such pain. It was she who had come and stripped away the loyal people from Muirwood. Better that she was the dead one at Winterrowd instead of her husband. The thought struck her forcefully – it would be over so fast. A quick arrow, through the gate bars and into the Queen’s breast. Her other hand twitched towards the quiver, but she clenched it shut, realizing the feelings were not her own. She shoved at the hate, the loathing. The temptation to kill was powerful. It was not her own.

Pareigis’ voice was void of any accent. “You are abandoned, Aldermaston. Open the gate.”

“I think not,” he replied solemnly. “I will not invite you willingly.”

A smirk twisted the corner of her mouth. “Then release the girl as you promised. Demont’s niece rides with me to Comoros.”

“I am afraid that is impossible,” came the simple reply.

Her eyes narrowed. “You think you can save her from me? I came here to fetch her, and I will not leave without her in my custody.”

The Aldermaston’s voice was humorless. “Then enjoy your stay in the village, my Queen. She is not here to give to you. The earls left at sunset, certain I would betray them to you. They escaped during the confusion of the dance.”

Her face hardened, her mouth drawing back into a simmering frown. “Where did you send them?”

“You misunderstand me, my Queen. They left on their own accord. I do not know where they went.”

“You let them out a porter door!” she accused, rising higher in the stirrups. Her stallion shied and snorted, its tail thrashing.

“I did not,” he replied. “The exterior grounds are confined by the Bearden Muir. It is a difficult and treacherous wilderness, made even more so by the untimely rains. They may be lost. I do not know where they are.”

“You lied to me!” she seethed.

“You may believe whatever you will,” he answered back.

“You are my enemy,” she returned. “You are responsible for the murder…”

The Aldermaston’s voice erupted like thunder. “Shall we end this tiresome game, your Highness? Your words and accusation mean nothing to me. I care only for the life of the learners and the villagers of Muirwood, not my own. I have the earl’s sworn word about their safe conduct, so any massacre this morning will end with his hands bloodied, not mine. They are fled. The earls have a great lead on you, but they do not have horses for we do not have any to spare, even if I were so inclined. Their fate and destiny is in their own hands now. I care not whether you kill me or let me live. I do not care!”