The Blight of Muirwood (48 page)

Lia shook her head in amazement. “I believe it. When I crossed the Apse Veil, Maderos hinted that he could take me other places and other times as well. So what have you done to Dieyre? You just mentioned having spoken to him.”

Colvin folded his arms, his face growing severe. There was the anger again, just beneath the surface, implacable and intense. Not fear – only anger. “He is alive though will not reveal where he had my sister taken. He knows that is his only coin to bargain with, and he is being greedy with it. I think she was taken or is being taken to one of his manor houses in his lands with orders to kill her if anyone tries to free her. She is his hostage.”

Lia sat forward suddenly and winced with pain at her side. He gripped her shoulders and pressed her back against the cushions. “That is a secret he cannot hide for long. When you are feeling better, then I would like you to take some knight-mastons and save her. With the orb, you can find her.”

“Yes,” she replied reluctantly. “I wish you had killed him. When there is a poisonous serpent about, it is not wise to let it slither. But for her sake, I am glad you did not. I heard what you told him, that you could perceive his thoughts and knew the trap he had set for you. What a cruel man, plotting her death as a consequence for his. What is being done with him? Please assure me that he is not roaming free.”

“Indeed he is not. His mood is surprisingly buoyant for a man whose plot had just met with unmistakable disaster. He is not as glib as he was, nor is he repentant. He demands a trial in Comoros. Demont is willing to oblige him and he will be taken to Pent Tower after Demont has secured the city. It is a prison for nobles. And as you may guess, he will be under guard constantly, as he is very rich and will likely try to bribe his way out of punishment. I am sure you will want to know about the Queen Dowager as well? I thought so. She is under guard and being kept in a room here in the manor house. When Demont arrested her, he took away her heirloom necklace. There was a kystrel embedded in the jewelry.”

Lia was not surprised. “She did wear a lot of jewelry. But I thought kystrels leave a mark on those who use them? Scarseth…his skin was ravaged by tattooes. Does she disguise it somehow?”

“You are right about the effect, but strangely, her skin was not marked. She does not hide it. She said, rather haughtily, that in Dahomey, her family’s line does not suffer the marks for using kystrels. They claim that it is the only true way to use the Medium and that we are corrupted in our use. After her failure, she railed against Demont, the Aldermaston, against us all and promised she would see every last maston killed. She ordered us to return her to her brother, the king of Dahomey, which we will not do until our mission to Dochte Abbey is finished. She did not take defeat…gracefully.”

Lia grabbed his arm, heart surging with hope. She had not brought herself to ask the question fearing what the answer would be. “What? The Aldermaston…he lives?”

Colvin smiled and patted her hand. “His heart did fail him and he collapsed at the gate, but he is still alive. And unconscious. Every time we try to Gift him with healing, the Medium forbids us to utter the words. His steward has not left his side.”

Lia was filled with relief and gratitude. “In my mind, I saw him fall. I am so pleased…so pleased we came in time.”

“Barely in time, Lia. Only barely. If Scarseth had not carried you to the Leering when he did, then the Queen Dowager would have won. For that reason alone I did not kill him, even though he stabbed you. But we do not know what to do with him. He does not want to be with the few survivors of the flood but we have no other confinement available. Nor do I trust giving him back his power of speech. He knows too much…especially about you. He was under the Queen Dowager’s thrall, there is no mistaking it. Demont thinks the Aldermaston should decide what to do with him after he awakens.”

Lia nodded. She felt a mixture of revulsion and compassion for the man who had killed her. What a contradiction. He stabbed her and then carried her to the Leering. She would not have been able to summon the defenses without his help. And she remembered his thoughts – his wild and pleading thoughts to help free him from the Queen’s grasp.

There was a gentle knock on the door. Colvin rose and went to it and unlocked the crossbar. In walked Pasqua with a tray of food as well as Siara, carrying a bundle of fresh linen bandages and a dish of powdered woad.

“She is awake?” Pasqua said suddenly, her voice rising. “And why did not you bother to tell us, you unthinking clod? She must be famished. Famished! I brought some broth for her and something for you to eat, but now I think I will not let you have a bite of it since you did not come and get me right away. Do not just stand there, young man, take the tray! I hope the soup sloshes on you.” She shoved it into Colvin’s hand and hobbled over to the bed where Lia winced with pain, expecting a hug that would hurt.

“Be gentle,” Colvin warned, carrying the tray over.

Pasqua took Lia’s good hand with both of hers. “Look at you, child.” She swept part of her hair back and caressed her cheek. “When that filthy man carried you up the hill, you looked a corpse though you were breathing. So much blood and injury. I do not think I can bear to let you out of my sight again, hunter or no. Are you hungry? Can I feed you?”

“Just the broth,” Siara said. “Anything stronger she may not be able to handle. Broth first. How is your pain, Lia? Do you need more valerianum to help you sleep?”

Lia shook her head violently. “No, I do not want to sleep.” She looked at Colvin, her heart aching with the thought of him leaving with Ellowyn in the morning.

“You need rest,” Siara said. “But even more, you need friends with you. Should we move you to the kitchen? There are many who want to see you.”

Lia wanted to see everyone, but she also wanted to be alone with Colvin. Maybe her conflict showed on her face, for she saw him approach with the tray and set it down. “I am not leaving your side until dawn.” He touched Pasqua’s shoulder deferentially. “With your permission of course.”

Pasqua looked up at him grudgingly and then nodded.

Lia sighed, her thoughts painful. She nodded at him as well.

Colvin pulled away the coverlet and gently scooped Lia into his arms. Even the slow and tender motion made her wince with pain, but she clenched her jaw to keep from crying out and tried to breathe through her nose as he started to walk. The kitchen was a short distance and Siara Healer led the way to pull open the doors while Pasqua followed with the tray. Lia rested her head against Colvin’s cheek as he tried not to jostle her. The pale sky was turning black outside, the smell of the sea hinted in the air. There were knight-mastons walking the grounds with torches, patrolling the borders, keeping them safe. A feeling of protection had settled over the Abbey. All was calm and quiet.

The smell of the kitchen greeted her and she blinked with the light and the rush of voices and sounds. Pasqua’s bed had been installed beneath the awning of the loft and barrels and chests and baskets had been relocated elsewhere in the room. She saw Pen-Ilyn sitting on a bucket with a tray of sambocade in one hand, shoveling the dessert into his mouth like a starving soul. He smiled and nodded at her, hurrying even faster now that Pasqua had returned. Colvin crossed the tiles to the bed and helped set her down after Sowe turned the sheet and stacked up the pillows.

Sowe took her hand, smiling warmly and then kissed her. Edmon was her shadow. His face was drawn and pale. He had the look of a slight fever about him and he moved with a visible wince.

“I am surprised to see you on your feet so soon, Edmon,” Lia told him, giving him a look of compassion.

“Not as surprised as I am. Sowe could have been a healer instead of a cook. Blue woad is an amazing plant though the skin around the wound is a little blue, but the bleeding stopped at least. And I will have a lovely scar where Dieyre stabbed me. I am sure I will never tire of telling the story of how I got it.”

Lia sighed, seeing the flash of old humor in his eyes. “You are lucky to be alive.”

His eyes became serious. “I do owe that to you in a way, Lia. Forgive me, but my emotions are a bit close to the surface, seeing you like this. Seeing what you have suffered. I can bear my lot. But it grieves me to see you in such pain. I lost what I was going to say…”

Sowe gave him a bashful look and prompted him, “How you survived. How Marciana saved you.”

“Ah, there it is. It is a short story. Do not worry – I will not make it longer in the telling, but I wanted you to know. When you and Colvin left on the boat, Dieyre wasted no time and drew his sword and said he would take Ciana with him. I was shocked and angry, though I should not have been. I was a fool thinking I could stop him and Ciana for trying to stop me, but I am rash, as you know. He disarmed me with hardly any effort, a fact which still wounds my pride. He cut me here,” he gestured to his torso with a wince, “and then smashed his fist into my face to knock me down and I am certain he was going to run me through and murder me. Colvin had told me that in the Bearden Muir when the sheriff’s men attacked him, that you stood in the way. Well, Marciana protected me with her own body and spoke so earnestly with Dieyre that she talked his temper down. He made her swear she would go with him peacefully if he did not slay me. I could see he was tempted. His eyes told me that he wanted me dead. But I was bleeding and maybe it was good enough. Maybe he thought I would just bleed to death. Ciana honored her part and rode off with Dieyre. I managed to stuff a rag into my wound and lurch on the road. The Medium saved me then, for I found a horse – one of the strays from the Dahomeyjans and rode to Muirwood. A great big black. Beautiful animal. I do not know how I made it on the saddle, but I did and collapsed outside the gate and was carried here.” He reached out and stroked Sowe’s hair absently.

“You should be resting,” Sowe said timidly and he nodded his surrender and hobbled back to a floor pallet where she helped him lie down.

Lia watched them for a moment and then gratefully took the tureen of soup from Pasqua, who clenched back her tears and stared at her injured girl with all the protective looks of a mother.

* * *

Dawn came too quickly, its arrival a torture Lia had been dreading. Colvin had waited vigil all night long and they spoke softly to each other, talking of their lives, sharing little stories that they had not told each other before. Sowe and Bryn were asleep in the loft above. Edmon lay still on a pallet near the bread oven. Pasqua entered quietly before the first cock crowed and stoked the fire in the hearth, pinched some salt into a cauldron after tasting the broth, and brought another bowl to Lia. She set some loaves near the oven to warm and gathered some fruits and nuts for the journey.

Colvin sat at the edge of Lia’s bed still, studying her face, his expression unreadable. “When we returned to Muirwood, I had been looking for a gift or reward for Sowe for her help when I was injured. I think I know what to give her now.”

Lia smiled, pleased that he remembered. “What then?”

“You saw the way they look at each other. Edmon is bedazzled by the girl. I cannot blame him. He told me yesterday he plans to stay at Muirwood and pass the maston test when he has recovered from his injury. When I am gone, I would like you to tell her that I plan to adopt her as my sister. The same offer I came here to make to you. She will have a marriage portion to bring. With all her years serving at the Aldermaston’s table, I think she would come to understand her new station. Would you present my offer to Sowe?”

Lia’s throat constricted with joy and she nodded, blinking back tears. “That is generous, Colvin.”

“She is your friend. I do this regardless of Edmon. If he changes his mind, which I do not expect that he will, she will still have rank and position. She is a good girl and I admire her. So does Ciana.”

A knock came to the kitchen door and Pen-Ilyn entered, but held it wide to admit Ellowyn and an older man. The last time Lia had seen him, it had been on the battlefield of Winterrowd, blood-spattered and leaning wearily against a wagon as he spoke to the survivors. She could hardly tell his face through the grime that day. But she knew him at once. Garen Demont. Something burned inside her heart seeing him, something fierce and tugging. It made her eyes brim with tears. Demont was probably fifty, but he looked younger, with a boyish face – cleanshaven, like Colvin’s – and a mess of untidy dark hair streaked with gray. He wore a chain hauberk and splotched tunic with all the comfortable grace of an experienced soldier and had his maston-sword buckled at his hip, his gloved hand resting on the pommel. Colvin’s hand was on the edge of her bed. Her fingers itched to snake out and snare his, to keep him from going. She knew the moment was coming but it still hurt.

“Are you ready, my lord of Forshee?” Demont asked Colvin sympathetically. “Though I myself loathe parting with you. If you leave now you will reach Bridgestow before dark. There are many ships that anchor there bound for Dahomey. You can make it to the island Abbey by the time we arrive in Comoros with the prisoners, I should think. Dochte Abbey is on the northern coast if you recall. It will only take you and Ellowyn a few days under sail if the weather is fine, I am certain of it.”

Colvin gave her a mournful look, his eyes dark and sad. He stood slowly, as if some heavy burden were fastened to his shoulders. He gave her one final look and then started towards the doorway. “I am ready.”

There was creaking in the loft above and Sowe and Bryn hurried down the ladder. Edmon was awake as well and rose, wincing with pain, clutching his wounded side. Pasqua stuffed the food in a new rucksack and handed it to Colvin at the door.