The Wretched of Muirwood (8 page)

“Right away? Of course right away. Right away and I will blister his ears. Right away and I will shake my spoon at him. Well do not just stand there, girls, get working! Start some soup. That will feed more in a trice. We have some broth already, so cut up some vegetables. Quickly! Quickly!” She bustled out the main door, still grumbling to herself and wiping her hands on her apron as she left.

“Lia?” Sowe said desperately. She trembled with fear.

“Astrid said they were looking for the kitchen,” she said in a loud voice. “We must hide you. Now! Come down.”

“Where?” Sowe begged, clutching Lia’s hands.

The young man emerged from the den of barrels and bags. His face was drawn with worry, but his reflexes were sharp. He bounded down the ladder in a blink. “How many?”

Lia looked him in the eye. “Twenty, I think. No one knows you are here. I have told no one. But if the entire abbey hunts for you, then there is only one place we can hide you. The ruins of the old cemetery. No one is allowed to wander in that part of the grounds where the landslide happened. Only Sowe and I know what is there.”

He nodded. “I will not risk your safety. How do I get there?”

“You would never find it in the fog. I will take you.”

Sowe’s fingers clenched around Lia’s arm. “You cannot leave me here!”

Lia looked at her panic-stricken face. She only had an instant to decide. Sowe had to come with them. If the king’s men came, she would never be able to keep a secret. One hard look, and she would confess it all.

“You are coming too. Grab your cloak.”

While Sowe rushed to get it, Lia crossed the kitchen to the rear doors and raised the crossbar. They did not open those doors as often, so she had to tug on them handles hard to get it moving and they groaned from lack of use. Glancing outside, she spied no one else.
Thank Idumea for the fog.

“Hurry, Sowe!”

She joined them, and the three left out the rear of the Abbey kitchen. Sowe wrung her hands, whimpering. The armiger looked each way, his neck muscles tense, his jaw muscles clenched, his hands opening and tightening again and again as if craving a sword. But one man against twenty was madness even with a weapon. Lia led them across a soft patch of grass. The fog concealed everything except the squishy sound their shoes made and the swish of their cloaks against the green. There was noise and commotion on the grounds. Horses stamped and huffed. The noise of blades drawing from sheaths made Lia shiver. Voices rang out.

“Spread out. Surround all the doors. Don’t be a fool, Brickolm – you two go the other way!”

Lia started to run and the others followed her example. From the swirl of fog appeared looming shapes, but Lia was expecting the quarter circle of oak trees ahead of them. The crooked limbs and stout trunks rose up like giants, but they would also provide cover. Would someone see them? Anxiously, she expected a cry of alarm. A warning to stop. They went past the oaks and into the Cider Orchard. It was not the season for fruit, or else she would have gathered a few apples that dropped during the night. The trees were low and squat which gave them excellent cover as they ran.

The Cider Orchard was a maze of apple trees. The branches were slender, the bark grayish and smooth compared with the scraggy oaks surrounding it. The apples were different in Muirwood than in other Hundreds. They were famous for their cider. Lia led them through the willowy shapes, hearing Sowe gasp as she tripped, but the armiger caught her and kept her from sprawling face down in the dirt. Threading through the trees, her heart racing as fast as her feet, Lia began to hope.

The orchard seemed as wide as the world that morning. In the spring, when the wind blew white blossoms from the branches, it looked like winter snow, only the smell was fragrant, the petals softer than roses. Each step brought them deeper into its domain. Ahead, the fog grew thicker, the air more moist and moldy. A smell rose before them, of bracken, scum, and fish, and she realized they had wandered astray and were approaching the fish pond.

“This way,” she said, changing direction. They continued to cross the orchard, heading deeper once more. Past the orchard, a thick mass of oaks crowded around, and Lia knew they were near.

She slowed from a run to a walk because the ground became treacherous and would drop suddenly off the hillside if they went too fast. Sowe panted, and even the armiger breathed heavily. Lia could hear them both behind her as she led through the expanse of trees. Then the ground changed, becoming sturdy and hard as she stopped.

Turning around, she faced her friend and the young man. She stamped her foot on the ground. “Do you feel the stone beneath? It is a footpath, but grown over. No one in the abbey is allowed here.”

“Why?” he asked.

“This is the secret I told you about. Follow me.” She led them down the crooked path between the oak trees. It was narrow enough that it did not really seem like a path at all. Claw-like branches grasped at her, forcing Lia and the others to duck and dart as they crossed. At last, the path ended at a startling drop. A Leering had been set at the end of the trail, its stern expression a warning to anyone not to wander further. The eyes glowed a dull red. This was not an ancient stone – the carving was done by the Aldermaston himself. As a child, she had seen him work on it for months.

“When you climb down, use the roots as hand-holds,” Lia said. “Sowe, stay up here and listen for the king’s men. I will show him the cave.”

Sowe nodded, hugging herself, and looked back the way they came. She shifted from foot to foot, shivering.

Lia led the way. The earth pitched forward suddenly, but she supported herself with exposed roots from the mighty oaks. The loamy smell of earth and trees was pleasant. She had never minded dirty hands. Positioning herself to a crouch, she gently lowered herself down and extended a foot first until she felt the firm stone.

“It is a little challenging because you cannot see what you are stepping on, but it will support you,” she told him.

“How far down is it?” he asked, following her into the chasm.

She blocked his view ahead, but that was probably a good thing. There was enough room for them both, but she gingerly scooted further to make more. His boots came first and then he was standing on the rock next to her.

“For all that is holy!” he gasped when he realized he was standing on a boulder in the middle of the air. He started to back up, but she grabbed his shirt.

“There is a drop that way,” she said. “The safe way is over here. See down? There is another stone lower. Then another one. These big stones are like steps. They go all the way down to the bottom of the hill, where you will find a little gully brook and water. When the hillside washed away, it revealed them. The dirt went away, but not the stones. They just hang in the air. Partway down, there is a cave. There are Leerings for light and fire in there, so you will not be cold or unable to see. You are a maston and can make them work, so I do not have to do it for you. Sowe or I will bring food for you later today, if it is safe. Or after Pasqua sleeps if it is not. If you search, you will find thickets with shrewberries, or mushrooms, or pods. But we will leave you food up by the waymarker above.”

He looked nervously down at the next step. “How far…how far down is the cave?”

She sat on the rock and pushed herself off. “Not far. Some of the steps are taller than others. I have climbed them since the storm washed the hillside away. Sowe and I explore here all the time. I think we even left a blanket down there. We have to make sure no one sees us though, or the Aldermaston will be…let us just say that he would be furious if anyone
else
learned of this place.”

“Someone could get killed,” he muttered, following her down some of the steps. A breeze kicked up and he grabbed onto the rock to steady himself.

She led the way. “It proves the Medium is real. How else do stones float like this, with nothing holding them up? They must be ancient. Stones from another time. Or another earth. I think maybe the reason I can make Leerings work is because I know the Medium is real. I do not question it. Look, there is the entrance over there. Do you see it?”

After leaping to another rock, she maneuvered beneath one of the floating boulders and led him into a cave-like opening. With a thought, she made the sun-shaped Leering flare, filling the darkness with radiance. The room was carved into the hillside stone, the walls smooth but speckled with black lichen. It was tiny compared with the kitchen, a place of refuge from storms.

He touched the stone near the ceiling, tracing his finger along the maston symbols carved into the wall.

“The fire Leering is over there,” she said, looking around, “And there is the blanket. Good. Sowe and I sit on it and eat the berries. I should get back. If we are missing much longer, Pasqua will get suspicious as well as angry.”

“Do you need…do you need help climbing out?” he asked haltingly.

“You are frightened for me? You get used to it as well, but do not climb at night. It is dangerous unless the moon is out.” She started to leave, but he stopped her.

“I will not forget that you did this,” he told her. He shut his eyes. “For a moment, I thought they saw us. They would have killed me.”

“The fog was a blessing. No one knows these grounds better than a wretched. If you lack a place to hide, go to the bottom of the hill. There are a heap of empty ossuaries down there. Big stone ossuaries. Are you surprised I know that word?”

He winced. “Not any more.”

“We used to hide in them and Sowe and I would find each other.”

“You hid amongst the bones?” His face looked sick with revulsion. He shuddered.

“No, you fool. The dead had already revived. They were empty of bones, except for grave linens.” She fished in her bodice for the ring. “And these.”

He stared at her. “I did not know they buried the dead with gold rings in his Hundred. And you…you took one?”

“If the dead left it behind, they obviously no longer needed it.” She scooped it back into her dress, winked at him with a warning not to fall off the hillside and hurried out of the makeshift cave and scrambled up the rock steps to the top. She was winded when she finished the climb.

Sowe was nearly frantic. “You were gone too long!”

“Stop acting like you are six. Back to the kitchen.” They started walking quickly, holding hands so that Sowe could keep up.

“What if the soldiers are there?” Sowe whispered.

“Do not say anything. I will answer them.”

“What if they ask me a question?”

“Pretend you are frightened of them.”

“I
am
frightened of them!”

“Then it will not be difficult for you to show it, will it? If Pasqua asks where we went, I am going to say we went to sneak a look at the soldiers. Watch out for that branch.” They both ducked.

Walking the rest of the way through the orchard in silence, they gripped each others hands as the mist swirled around them. It was fading now that the sun was up, and they could make out the looming silhouette of the abbey kitchen ahead past the screen of oaks. Lia’s heart raced.

As they crossed the grass to the rear of the kitchen, two shapes emerged from the wall, stepping into their sight. Both held drawn swords.

“In the name of Almaguer, sheriff of Mendenhall, I bid you stand fast! Are you the missing kitchen help?”

“Yes,” Lia said, her hand throbbing in pain from Sowe’s clenching fingers.

The soldiers approached and grabbed each girl around the arm. “Then his lordship, the noble sheriff, desires to speak with you both. You will come with us!”

* * *

“There was an Aldermaston long ago, over an Abbey that I will not mention, who allowed a wretched the privilege of reading and engraving. He was a talented young man and strong with the Medium. The learners of the Abbey disdained him due to jealousy and his lack of rank. The Aldermaston encouraged his progress however, convinced that his abilities would bring the Abbey great renown. But the wretched desired one thing above all else. By learning to read, he hoped to discover the identity of his forbearers. Instead of studying the words of the ancient mastons before him, he pored through the Abbey records, seeking the identity of his parentage. The clues were sufficient in the Abbey history, and he determined the identity of his mother, who had been a helper in the Abbey and a wretched herself. Abandoning his studies, he sought her at a neighboring village and forced her to reveal the identity of his father, who, he discovered, was a learner at the Abbey but never became a maston. He confronted the man who gave him his life, and he robbed him of his as vengeance. To this day, Aldermastons keep learners and helpers apart, and they refuse, completely and totally and rightfully, to allow wretcheds of any circumstance the privileges.”

- Cuthbert Renowden of Billerbeck Abbey

* * *

The sheriff of Mendenhall was balding. That was the first thing Lia noticed about him. What hair he had was short and spiky, patchy across the dome of his head like a stretch of grass that had been trampled too many times. He was taller than the Aldermaston, but younger, his beard more steel than gray. As the rear doors of the kitchen were thrust open by the soldiers gripping Lia and Sowe, he turned from his conversation with the Aldermaston and Pasqua, a satisfied smile on his face. He looked pleasant, except for his eyes. His eyes were like gleaming spoons in a box of silver.