The Ciphers of Muirwood (11 page)

“You two run along,” Jon Tayt said in Maia’s ear. “A little work is good for the soul. He will be more open to what I have to say to him now. Go on with your friend.”

“Thank you,” Maia answered, patting his shoulder. She gestured for Suzenne to follow. Her friend looked torn between the prospect of staying behind to talk to Dodd and getting into dry clothes, but she nodded after a moment and took Maia’s arm.

The cold was beginning to intensify with the setting sun and the chill wind, so they clung to each other as they walked back to the Aldermaston’s manor. The grounds had been abandoned in the storm, and it was just the two of them, sloshing in the mud and grass as they wound their way back to shelter.

“I have never been this wet or cold,” Suzenne said, her teeth chattering. “But was that not . . . exciting?”

“I enjoyed it,” Maia said. “It is not as cold as a blizzard, I can assure you of that.”

“You are so brave,” Suzenne said, shaking her soggy tresses. “I did not think he would make us work in the rain.”

Maia patted her arm. “Yet we command our helpers to do it,” she said. “As if their discomfort is a lesser evil than ours.”

“I will remember that the next time I ask Celia to do the washing,” Suzenne said. “Should we go to the kitchen first? What will Collett say if we arrive like this?”

“Thewliss will say nothing, of course,” Maia teased.

“I know, he never speaks.” Suzenne laughed. “Who is that?” she asked, looking ahead.

A figure had emerged from the gloom, a tall man wearing a dripping mantle that covered him almost completely. He was walking toward them from the kitchen.

“Do you recognize him?” Maia asked, her stomach knotting with concern.

The hooded figure approached them, and as he drew near, Maia recognized him as the sheriff of Mendenhall. She frowned.

He stopped in front of them, his face sallow and scrutinizing. He had cunning eyes, a goatee, and a long hook nose. She remembered from her first morning with the Ciphers that Maeg was his daughter. The thought made her uneasy.

“You are quite soaked through, girls,” he said solicitously. “I hardly recognized you, Lady Clarencieux.”

“We were caught in the storm,” Suzenne said, trying to look presentable and failing. Her face wilted with mortification.

“Best to get indoors,” he advised. “You must have wandered far to have gotten so wet.” His tone was measured and nuanced. “I would advise you, young ladies, not to wander off the grounds. It is easy to get . . . lost.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Suzenne said, flushing.

He nodded and was about to leave, but he paused and took a close look at Maia. “I thought you were my daughter’s companion, Lady Clarencieux. It seems you have a new one?”

Maia’s insides shriveled with dread as she awaited Suzenne’s response. The sheriff had not addressed her directly, which was not unusual given that she was clothed in a wretched’s gown.

“Yes, the Aldermaston made the change,” Suzenne said. “Good evening.” She tugged on Maia’s arm and pulled her toward the kitchen door.

How much more grievous are the consequences of anger than the causes of it. A single word, spoken in enmity, can scar a heart for a lifetime.

—Richard Syon, Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Gallows

E
ven your shift is wet,” Suzenne said to Maia, nodding to the wet clothes hanging from the hooks by the fire Leering. “Here, take this instead of your nightgown if you are ready to get out of the bath. You can sleep in it tonight.” She offered her a white chemise of the softest fabric, one of several Suzenne had stored in her trunk.

Suzenne had already bathed, and her hair was freshly combed but still damp. The fire in the hearth licked with greedy tongues and the entire room was cozy and warm, smelling of the fragrant soaps and bath salts Suzenne had provided for their use. Maia had not felt so luxurious in years, and she tried to stifle the little pricks of envy that needled her heart. Suzenne’s Family had provided for her. Her wardrobe was bursting with gowns and slippers and shoes, and she had a locked jewelry box on the table.

“That is very kind,” Maia said thoughtfully. “Would you hand me the blanket to dry myself?”

Suzenne draped the blanket around Maia’s shoulders as she stepped out of the tub. The rush matting underfoot was soggy and damp. Cinching the blanket around herself, Maia turned to thank Suzenne. Her friend’s eyes were wide, her nostrils tightened with fear. She had seen the brand from the serpent Leering. Hot with shame, Maia tightened the blanket around her body and took the proffered chemise without saying a word, disappearing behind the changing screen to put it on.

There was a knock at the door, and Suzenne answered it while Maia changed. The two girls from the kitchen bubbled in, their voices chattering away.

“It is warm as the bread ovens in here,” said Aloia. “We should bake a loaf or two by the fire. Here is your supper.”

“Thank you,” Suzenne said.

“I will carry it, my lady. Do not fret yourself. Over on the table? Come, Davi, carry the pitcher of cider.”

“I
am
carrying it,” Davi replied, halting and catching herself. The cider sloshed. “Move! I almost spilled it.”

“You are so clumsy,” Aloia said, holding the door wide.

“You are so slow. Move on!”

The smell of trencher bread and stew filled the room, making Maia’s mouth water. She finished adjusting the strings on the chemise and emerged from around the changing screen. The two girls were jostling each other with the tray and pitcher, but they beamed when they saw her.

“Can we have another story?” Aloia asked imploringly.

“She has not eaten yet!” Davi said, stamping her foot. “Tomorrow. Be patient.”

“I am not very patient,” Aloia confessed. “Tomorrow, then?”

Maia nodded. “Thank you for bringing it in the rain,” she said, noticing the wet spots on their cloaks.

“It was no trouble,” Davi said. The girls curtsied and scurried back through the door, which Suzenne locked behind them.

Maia longed for her warm dinner, but her hair was tangled and damp and she knew she should comb it first. She walked to the stand where Suzenne kept the combs.

“Let me help you,” Suzenne offered. “It will go faster, and then we can both eat together.”

Maia was especially touched by the friendly gesture considering Suzenne’s reaction to seeing the hetaera’s mark. “Yes, thank you.” They each took a comb and started working through Maia’s dark tresses. Unbidden, a memory flooded inside of her, of warm hands and a comb. A creaking ship. The smell of him, standing behind her, fingers gliding through her hair. His face came unbidden to her mind, the scar on his cheek, his dark hair and blue eyes. Collier. Feelings came with the memory—confusing, painful, yet they caused a warmth inside her as well. Some part of her core was burning.

“What are you thinking of?” Suzenne asked, combing through another strand.

Maia had not realized her arms had stopped moving and that she was just sitting there, letting Suzenne do all the work.

“Forgive me,” Maia said, quickly resuming. “I was lost in a memory.”

“What of?”

She cringed, wondering how much she should reveal. Their friendship was still very new, and she was not yet ready to share such a treasured memory. To do so would make it less hers. “When I sailed to Naess, I was promised more than a kingdom if I would yield my . . . my mind. Yet yielding that would mean yielding my body, my actions, even my sense of self.” She sighed. “It was tempting, Suzenne. I was used to wearing rags and was offered the chance to be the empress of all the kingdoms.” She looked down at her hands. “I am ashamed at how tempting it was. I did keep the earrings, though. Just to remember why I left.” They were also a reminder of something else . . .
someone
else, but Maia was not ready to speak of that.

Suzenne was quiet, thoughtful. Her effort with the comb quickly loosened the tangles. “I had noticed the pretty earrings and wondered about them. We are all ashamed to feel the lure of power and beauty. Do not the tomes teach us that the Myriad Ones tempt us with their thoughts? That they invite us and entice us to yield to them? The same words are also used by the mastons to describe the Medium. It also invites us and entices us. But to different ends.”

“It is true,” Maia said, increasing the vigor of her brushing.

“I am proud of you,” Suzenne said, her voice sincere. “For the
choice
you made. We may be ashamed of feeling swayed by such things, but we need only be ashamed of our choices. There is power in choice.” She paused, wriggling loose a stubborn clump. “I feel changed after standing up to Maeg. I am the same person, but I feel different inside.”

“Persecuted?”

“Quite the opposite. I feel self-worth. I know Maeg will make me suffer. That is who she is. She cannot help herself, just as Celia cannot help being so kindhearted. Or you, Maia, cannot help being wise. I respect you a great deal.”

Maia felt a flush of pleasure, but it did little to contain her guilt. She did not deserve praise. Had things gone differently, she would have become a monster, a terror to all the kingdoms. The thought made her shudder.

“Are you cold?”

“No,” Maia answered softly. She turned in the chair and looked up at Suzenne. “Are you . . . afraid of me?”

Suzenne bit her lip. “You saw me staring.”

Maia nodded. “I am not angry. You can speak the truth.”

“I know I can,” Suzenne said, putting her hand on Maia’s shoulder. Her
right
shoulder. “I do not wish to hurt your feelings.”

Maia smiled. “Believe me, many women a thousand times more provoking than you have deliberately sought to injure me. You are not of that kind, Suzenne. Be honest.”

“I am a little fearful,” Suzenne said. “I thought at first that the Aldermaston chose me as your companion to keep a watchful eye over you. To warn him in case you began to . . . slip. But I have observed your actions, Maia, and I know you to be thoughtful, meek, and quite accomplished. There is much
I
can learn from
you
, which wounds my pride a little. Only a little,” she added teasingly. “I had almost forgotten that you were a . . .” Her mouth suddenly twisted, as if she were in pain. “I forgot, I cannot speak it. The binding sigil has frozen my lips. When I saw the mark on your shoulder, a
feeling
came over me. I do not know how to describe it, but it was not a good feeling. Not a proper feeling. I was almost . . . jealous of you. It is a symbol of great power, Maia.”

“It is,” Maia responded, her thoughts darkening. “If there were any possible way to be rid of it . . .” She sighed. “But the Aldermaston and my grandmother say it cannot be undone.”

“You are safe from the curse while you are at the abbey,” Suzenne said. “Must you always stay here? Is that the only way you can be protected?”

Maia shook her head. “No, if I pass the maston test, I will be permitted to wear the chaen. The chaen will help protect me from the influence of the Myriad Ones. If I were to leave the abbey without one, I would have no such protection. So while they hope I am strong enough in the Medium to reopen the Apse Veil, I must also pass the maston test to protect myself.”

“I know it
must
happen before Whitsunday, but will it be soon?”

“I do not think so,” Maia said. “I have been meeting with the Aldermaston often. He feels impressed by the Medium that I need longer to prepare myself. It is still too near to the time when the Myriad Ones had sway over me. I must first . . . distance myself from them, both physically and in my thoughts. He says they will test me again. The Myriad Ones do not relinquish their prey willingly.”

“He is wise,” Suzenne said thoughtfully. “Some people are afraid to speak to him. His eyes . . . it is as if he can see through to your very soul. I always feel at least a little guilty when I talk with him.”

“You need not,” Maia said, squeezing Suzenne’s hand. “He is the most gentle, mild soul I have ever met. Even with the Earl of Forshee railing on him, he did not flinch, did not raise his voice. The man is absolutely immune to anger.”

“The stew is getting cold,” Suzenne said, setting down the comb.

They sat at the small table they shared and began to devour the tasty stew and warm trencher bread. After their efforts stacking wood, Maia had certainly worked up an appetite. They ate in silence, savoring the flavors and the warmth of the hearth. Maia watched as Suzenne’s damp hair quickly dried in proximity to the heat. She was a beautiful girl, but her looks were only accentuated by her kind soul and her genuine wish not to harm anyone. So different from Maeg’s beauty.

“Tell me about Maeg,” Maia asked, breaking off another hunk of crust. “She is the daughter of the sheriff of Mendenhall, is she not? I thought the Aldermaston’s wife had said as much when I first met the Ciphers.”

“She is,” Suzenne answered. “Her father does not know she is a Cipher.”

“Truly?”

“Indeed,” Suzenne answered with conviction. “The sheriffs of Mendenhall have all been loyal to the Aldermaston for generations. But Maeg’s father was installed a few years ago after your mother was banished. He was her jailor, so to speak, and he visited often to make sure she was still here and not running amok elsewhere in the kingdom.”

“How do you know Maeg keeps it secret from her father?” Maia asked.

Suzenne smiled. “She has boasted of it often enough,” she answered. “She is training to be a courtier. She and I both were, which is why we were chosen as companions. Only our mothers know we can read and engrave. Both of them were Ciphers too.”

Maia nodded. “So there is a strong tradition of secrecy then. That is good. I worry that she may tell just to spite you.”

Suzenne shook her head. “She would not do that. Not in a world that slaughters its daughters for daring to read. I have been told that I must not even tell my future husband.”

“You mean Dodd?” Maia asked playfully.

Suzenne went crimson with embarrassment. “I do not yet know . . . whom I will marry.” She gazed down at her hands.

“But you love him?” Maia asked softly.

“I cannot answer that,” Suzenne whispered.

“Why not?”

“My parents have . . . they have forbidden me . . .”

Maia shook her head. “I did not ask what they had commanded you do. I only asked for your feelings. It does not take great wit or imagination to see it, Suzenne. You love him.”

The look of painful misery on Suzenne’s face said it all. Her voice was strained with anguish. “I will not say it. Words have meaning and power if you say them. I have never
told
anyone what I feel.”

Maia reached over and grasped Suzenne’s hand, reminded of the proverb she had read recently in the tomes.
We often want one thing and pray for another, not telling the truth even to ourselves.

“I will not say it,” Suzenne repeated with determination.

“I will coax you no further,” Maia replied.

“And what of you?” Suzenne said, shifting the burden back on her. “I know your father has forbidden you to marry. Will you defy him?”

It was only fair for her friend to make her blush in return. “Mine will be a political match, I think,” she said softly, looking down.

“Were you not promised to the heir of Dahomey when you were little?” Suzenne pressed. “I remember hearing there was an alliance of some sort long ago. He was a baby. I think we were born the same year, if I recall. Prince Gideon.”

Feint Collier
, Maia wanted to correct her. She sighed and leaned away from the table. “Yes, we were betrothed as infants.”

“Did you ever meet him? I know your father eventually abandoned the suit.”

“Yes, it was abandoned long ago,” Maia said, the memories beginning to churn and foam in her heart. She remembered awakening from a trance to find herself kneeling in front of a wooden altar, swearing before a Dochte Mandar that she would become the King of Dahomey’s wife. She was, she realized, ostensibly still the Queen of Dahomey—a fact that made her cringe.

“Did you meet him?” Suzenne pressed.

Maia was saved from having to answer when a firm knock sounded on the door. Eager to escape her friend’s relentless questioning, she lurched to her feet and hurried to open the door. In the hallway beyond were the Aldermaston and his wife.