The Void of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood Book 3) (23 page)

Her days were no longer full of meetings, as her council was busy implementing the plan they had adopted. She had not inspected the city’s defenses yet, but the city watch was on patrol. Maia had no recent word from Caspur, increasing her sense of dread, but a note had arrived via courier from Dodd that he had three thousand men marching day and night from the north.

Reports indicated that Kord Schuyler’s army was moving slowly, gathering more volunteers each day, but it was still two days from Comoros. Maybe three.

In the late afternoon, she was speaking to Richard in the chancellor’s tower when they were interrupted by the sound of boots rushing up the stairwell. Maia was poring over rosters of provisions and inventories of weapons and hastily set them down, alarmed by the sound. Comoros had a sizable armory and there were plenty of spears, swords, chain hauberks, helmets, shields, arrows—enough to outfit a sizable army . . . if only they had the soldiers to use them. The city blacksmiths were hammering all day long as well, repairing broken weapons and armor and manufacturing new ones.

“I feel comfortable,” Richard said, glancing at the doorway, “that we have enough provisions for a month, maybe two if we ration. I advise using the river to ferry in new supplies from around the realm. If there is a chance the city will be under siege for some time, we will do better to be prepared.”

Simon Fox appeared on the stairwell, his face flushed and pale. He was normally very calm, so the extent of his agitation was alarming in itself.

“What is it, Simon?” Maia asked. The chancellor just stared at their visitor in concern, his brows knit together.

“My lady,” Simon said, almost out of breath. “Pardon . . . but as soon as I found out, I ran all the way from my shop.”

“Speak,” Maia implored, feeling a well of darkness open up beneath her before he even explained the situation.

“Caspur has betrayed you,” Simon said curtly, beginning to pace.

“Oh no,” Maia whispered. “What has he done?”

Simon ran a hand through his hair and continued to walk the room. “When you told me how insistent he was on leading a force against Schuyler’s, I sent some of my men to follow his movements. My lady, he raised a force of ten thousand from his domains. He was urgent in his preparations, acting as my men thought one in his position should. He started them marching almost immediately. That was four days ago. I thought all was well until his army suddenly veered to the north to intercept Schuyler’s.”

Maia closed her eyes, feeling the terrible moment keenly.

“It is worse, my lady,” Simon said vehemently. “By design or not, I do not know, but when Caspur’s army closed with Schuyler’s, the two were camped near each other. In the morn, his men joined Schuyler’s.”

Richard’s expression was even more grave, if that were possible. “They joined, Simon?”

The Dahomeyjan spymaster nodded vigorously. “My lady, combined, they are nearly unstoppable. Even if Lord Price gets here in time, his troops will hardly make a difference. My lady, you are betrayed. Schuyler’s army is also much closer than you realize. The outriders will reach the city limits sometime tomorrow.”

Maia felt light-headed as she turned to look at her chancellor. “We have more money and resources, but we lack time to summon them. My husband is caught fighting his own war. My grandmother left for Hautland, and even if Pry-Ree were willing to offer their support for our internal war, it would take too long for their troops to arrive.”

Simon scratched the back of his head roughly. “This is a perilous hour. I came straight here. No one else knows. If the city finds out, there will be a panic and an exodus.”

“
When
they find out,” Maia corrected him. “This is not a secret we can keep.” She sighed in despair. “Should I have given him the command after all? I did not believe him capable of such treachery. He and Schuyler are rivals. Caspur stands more to gain if he supports me than his enemy. I am hurt, but I am also astonished. I truly did not believe him capable of such a betrayal.”

Richard stared solemnly at the floor for a moment and then lifted his gaze to her face. “I also did not expect him to betray the Crown. He threw in his lot with you when your father was murdered. Speaking of which, the interment of his body was supposed to happen tomorrow. I suppose that must be altered. Our options, it seems, are few.”

Simon folded his arms. “Fight, flee, or fail. There are truly only three choices. By fail, I mean capitulate . . . surrender. You do not have enough troops to fight. If you flee now, you will lose your throne forever. Taking back a lost throne is almost impossible. And if you surrender . . . I cannot imagine Schuyler will show you mercy. He was only too eager to behead you when you were your father’s prisoner.”

Maia started pacing. “There is only one choice,” she said, shaking her head firmly. “We must fight with whatever force we have available to us. The citizens must help . . . and to help, they must be told. We do not have time to waste. Richard, summon Justin and any available Privy Council members. We must share this news immediately. I will not be returning to Muirwood tonight.”

“But my lady,” Simon implored. “Are there no mastons we can summon to aid us?”

“We must and will summon every ally we can,” Maia said. “I will meet you in the council room. I had promised to inspect the kitchens this afternoon. I will do that now while you gather the council. I need a moment to think and prepare. Tell me as soon as everyone has been summoned.”

Richard nodded and rose quickly from his desk. Simon looked greensick with worry as he unbolted the door. Collier had left him to advise her, a task that had to seem futile at the moment. She could see that he was determining the possible outcomes, and all of them looked equally bleak.

“Courage, Simon,” Maia said, resting her hand on his shoulder. Though she addressed the words to him, she knew she was really telling herself.

Maia wrung her hands as she walked down the hall toward the castle kitchen. Dinner was underway, and she could smell the scents of baking bread and sizzling meat. Normally it would have made her mouth water, but her knowledge of the impending attack had buried her appetite. The kitchen worked day and night to feed so many, and Maia was concerned that young children were being worked too hard or treated with excessive harshness. She loved visiting Muirwood’s kitchen, but the castle kitchen lacked any kind of hominess. Here there were ten chimneys, dozens of tables, two larders, a pen holding animals to butcher, and cellars stuffed with sacks of vegetables and grains.

It would be difficult to explain the situation to the Privy Council. She wanted to trust that the Medium would lead them to victory—that Dodd’s three thousand men could come out ahead just as Garen Demont’s small force had done at the battle of Winterrowd. And truly she did trust that the Medium would protect them from Kord Schuyler, a man who denigrated others and scorned Aldermastons. But the struggle before them still terrified her, and she could not forget how many lives she carried in her hands.

The thoughts made her frown with anger, and she noticed several servants were gathered outside the kitchen, staring at her with concern. She turned the frown into an apologetic smile and continued toward the kitchen door. One of the servants bustled up to her, his look nervous.

“Your Majesty, we knew you were coming, but there is a problem in the kitchen. We need a few more moments before your visit.”

Maia did not slow her stride. “Unfortunately Solomon, I do not have time to delay. I must be at a Privy Council meeting shortly. I will not stay long.”

He seemed desperate to persuade her otherwise. “Well, it is just that there is a
situation
and I had hoped it to be resolved already, but it is not.”

Maia raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

The servant looked flustered. He was tall and lanky and very proper. Her father had given special uniforms to the court servants denoting their place within the hierarchy. While Maia cared nothing for such matters, she was trying to learn the various protocols of the lower staff. Her hunch would be that this fellow ranked highly.

“Well, Your Majesty instructed us to feed any vagrant who entered the castle hungry. One arrived earlier this afternoon and . . . well, he has not only eaten a fair amount, but he has also rattled the cooks with his advice about how to cook properly.”

Maia’s eyes widened with surprise. “I wish to meet him at once,” she said, hardly daring to hope.

“Well, if you insist,” Solomon said bleakly, wringing his hands. The doors opened and as Maia entered, she heard Jon Tayt’s voice ring out with a laugh.

“The entire kingdom of Dahomey eats cheese this way, by Cheshu!” he roared. “Melted! Little metal skewers dipped into bowls. It burns your mouth at first, but if you add the right spices to the cheese . . . oooooh, I tell you there is no finer feast than this.”

Maia’s heart nearly burst when she saw Jon Tayt slouched over on a barrel, his belt stuffed with throwing axes, his cloak askew off one thick shoulder, his coppery hair ruffled from the journey. He looked over his shoulder at her when the door opened, and the warm smile he gave her made tears sting her eyes.

“Ah lass,” he said, leaning forward and grunting as he stood. “Made queen at last. What a kettle of fish.” There were crumbs in his beard and grease stains on his shirt front, but he looked and smelled and laughed like Jon Tayt, and she had never been so happy in her life to see someone.

Maia shocked the entire kitchen when she rushed forward and gave him a fierce hug. The dawning realization that this opinionated traveler was a
friend
of the Queen of Comoros seemed to stun the kitchen staff into silence.

Jon Tayt put a meaty arm around her shoulders, its very weight and heaviness a comfort. “I was attempting to explain to these skillful cooks the finer points of Dahomeyjan culture. I think I may have offended several, but I was only trying to help them impress you for dinner by bringing you something you would enjoy.” He cast his gaze around the kitchen, raising his eyebrows mischievously. “Mayhap next time you will heed my counsel,” he said to a few frightened-looking chefs clustered at a nearby counter. “The meal, which was delicious, I thank you for. I am pleased to see, my lady, that you insist on feeding travelers.” He patted his belly with satisfaction. “Satisfying my appetite took some doing, by Cheshu.”

“What are you doing here?” Maia gasped with delight. She stroked some hair behind her ear and pulled Jon Tayt away from the kitchen staff. She gave a nod to Solomon to indicate all was well and she would escort him from the kitchen so they could continue their work. She took Jon Tayt back into the hall and started toward the council room.

Jon Tayt smiled and fingered one of his axe blades. “I suppose you could say the Medium bade me to come. Or you did. To be honest, I have not been my normal cheerful self lately. It is not enough to only see you in passing now and then at the abbey grounds. I am not a maston, of course, so I could not cross the Apse Veil. But word came from Aldermaston Wyrich. He said there was a pressing need . . . that you were in danger and needed protection. He sent me three days ago and I just arrived. What is amiss?”

A flushed feeling of warmth came into Maia’s heart. Jon Tayt was one man. But he was her friend, her traveling companion, and—additionally—an Evnissyen. Members of his family were traditionally advisors and protectors of the rulers of Pry-Ree, and her grandmother had sent this man to Dahomey to watch and wait for her. She felt Jon Tayt had been aware of her for her entire life. The relief it gave her to be in his mere presence was staggering. She had thought of summoning him to help track down the kishion, but events had overwhelmed everyone, and the message had never been sent.

She quickly shared the news from Simon Fox, warning him of the implications. If they were in the middle of a civil war when the Naestors posed their invasion, they would provide an easy target.

Jon Tayt rubbed his nose as they walked, listening carefully to her. “You would be amazed, Maia, at how few it takes to conquer many. I know this problem is urgent and difficult, and I assure you it will not be easy. But consider how Pry-Ree fares beside such a large and violent neighbor. We have tactics for occasions such as this one. There are ways you can mislead another army into thinking you are bigger than you are. If Schuyler believes he is marching into a trap, he will be hesitant and overcautious.”

Maia felt a ray of hope brightening inside her. She could not help but grin at him. “Are you telling me, Jon Tayt, that there is a proper way to defend a city during a siege?”

“My lady, there is only one
proper
way to defend a city or fight a war. And it just so happens that I know the secret. It is simple. Be wise and always do the unpredictable. We will make those false earls believe we have ten times our number. Once a Pry-rian captain ordered his men to run through the woods in circles to make them look mightier . . . and it worked. It is not a hopeless situation, lass.” He hooked his arm around hers. “Let me tell you a little story while we walk.”