He winced, his face creased with pain. “To raze the Abbey if the Aldermaston defies her. You can tell him that, girl.”
“I will consider your suggestion. What does she want?”
“I do not know. She only tells the Earl of Dieyre of her plans. We stay in the woods and wait until the sign. And since you will ask me what it is, I will say this. When the gargouelle burn, it will be safe for us to enter the grounds and raze the Abbey.”
“Does the muted one make them burn?” Lia asked.
“He does. ”
She felt it then, the sniffling and mewling around her legs. The Myriad Ones swarmed around them, hissing and baying in the quiet storm. Revulsion swelled inside her. How it was possible, she did not know. She had never felt the Myriad Ones on the grounds before, never within the borders. She looked at the woods where the riders came from.
“The muted one,” the wounded knight whispered greedily. “Do you hear him yet? In your thoughts?”
Unable to stop herself, Lia pulled the blade away from his throat. “Tell him to stay away from Muirwood. I will be watching for him.”
“No, child. He is watching you. And he will open the borders for the kishion to enter.”
* * *
“No maston can purchase his virtue too dear, for it is the only thing whose value must ever increase with the price it has cost. Our integrity is never worth so much as when we have parted with our all to keep it. Sadly, many will part with theirs for a trifle.”
- Gideon Penman of Muirwood Abbey
* * *
For nearly seven years, Lia had carried in her bosom the memory of Jon Hunter arriving at the kitchen during the storm, sopping wet and splattered in mud, anxious to bring the Aldermaston a terrible message. She thought it strange how life had the tendency to repeat itself over and over, roles changing but the story being the same. At the cloister she had learned that the Aldermaston was in the kitchen, so she hurried there instead. She knew Colvin might be there and prepared to face him, but her fight with Pareigis’ knights lent her a strength she had never known before. The training had worked. Without help she had disarmed three enemies, each a man and much larger than her, and interrogated one of them for useful information. There was something satisfying in the act of pulling a man from his horse, or watching him go limp with a well-placed blow. In her mind, she could see Martin’s fierce clenched grin of approval.
As she stomped across the grounds to the kitchen, she imagined how wild she looked, all brown and gray with mud, her wild hair hanging in tangled clumps down her back. Her thoughts were spinning wildly with the events of the afternoon, like so many butterflies in a grove all dancing this way and that in the air, and she was unable to rein in any of them. She was haunted by the look of contempt in Colvin’s eyes as he spurned her. Another image – a Dahomeyjan knight leering at her. Yet another – Reome at the laundry, blocking her way and then something inside Lia cracked and she saw herself rushing the girl, stomping her foot and choking her in the water trough. Then sheriff Almaguer was in her thoughts, his eyes blazing silver as he whispered about her parentage, killed at the battle of Maseve. How she wished she had known back then all she had learned being a hunter.
Thunder boomed over the Abbey, making her want to laugh wildly as the memory of Jon Hunter stabbed her heart again. He was dead in the Bearden Muir because the Aldermaston had sent him to protect her. Each of her steps on the muddy grass brought painful memories. She looked up, the skies darkening with a storm-induced twilight, and there was Duerden leaning against the wall of the kitchen, shivering and soaked.
“Oh no,” she whispered. Already his head snapped up, hearing the noise of her approach and saw her. His face looked ashen with nervousness.
“Lia?” he asked tremulously, stepping towards her.
“I must speak to the Aldermaston,” she said brusquely. “I cannot talk to you now, Duerden.”
He looked crestfallen. “I…I see. Another time then, when you have a moment.” With a sigh, he stepped away from her path and started back towards the cloisters. She watched his wilting with a surge of remorse, but she could not…she would not want to listen to him at that moment, not with her wounded heart still bleeding.
“Lia?” he called after a moment, as her hands found the handle. She looked over her shoulder at him, amazed he had the audacity to ignore her polite warning. His mouth was drooping in a frown, but his eyebrows looked concerned. “Are you all right? Can I help you?”
She stood for a moment, surprised at his sensitivity. She had a wild urge to kiss his cheek and thank him, but she knew that would confuse him into thinking she felt more than she really did.
“Yes, Duerden, something happened. But this is a problem for the Aldermaston.” Again she was tempted to reveal more than she should.
I left three men at the edge of the grounds. One of them may die because I might have hit him too hard. The Earl of Forshee, the man I love, was disgusted with me when I told him how I felt. I am soaked and wet and tired. And how are you this fine day?
“I will not keep you,” he said, biting his lip and wiping rain from his eyes, and then started back towards the cloister.
Lia swung open the kitchen door and entered. There was Pasqua, rubbing her shoulder with obvious pain and the Aldermaston leaning over her, speaking in low tones. Siara Healer was there was well, mixing up some powder in a pestle. Sowe and Brynn were busy making supper and both glanced over at her and stopped, gawking at her strange appearance. There was Edmon, lounging on a barrel, and he also rose when she entered.
“Lia, what happened to you?” Edmon asked, his face contorting with alarm.
The Aldermaston turned, his brow also creased with physical pain and his eyebrows flexed with concern. He said nothing, only waited for her to speak, to share the news that would change the Abbeys situation yet again.
“Dahomeyjan soldiers,” Lia said, coming near him and keeping her voice low. “The Queen Dowager left some of her knights in the woods. They have rallied a remnant of the king’s army and it surrounds the grounds, hidden. I believe they will use Scarseth to set the Leerings afire before they attack us. I encountered three of them, just past the Cider Orchard and they attacked me. I defended myself, but I may have killed one. They said the kishion is coming.”
She stopped, trying to catch her breath and stared at the Aldermaston.
“We must take Ellowyn away from here!” Edmon said, closing the gap. “We can have horses saddled and be on our way at once!”
The Aldermaston shook his head. “That would play into their hands and forfeit your life unnecessarily. You are a brave lad, Edmon, but allow me to do the thinking.” He paused deliberately, his eyes veiled, masking the pain he suffered. “For someone who does not believe in the Medium’s power, the Queen Dowager is taking some precautions to ensure her success. That is in our favor. She underestimates us and does not appreciate the Medium’s guidance. All afternoon, I have felt a burden. Your news confirms it. They will try and abduct the girl before the Queen Dowager returns. If they have her in possession, it will strengthen their position. She must be safeguarded. Edmon – hurry to the cloister and summon her and her companion to my manor. You and the Earl of Forshee will guard her during the day. Lia will guard her at night. She must be under watch constantly. I feel it heavily upon me, as certain as I know the moon will rise even though we will not see it through the clouds. Lia, you are her primary guardian. Stay near her constantly.”
Lia frowned. “I can take her away tonight. Even without horses. If we go into the Bearden Muir, they will have difficulty following us.”
“She is not ready nor is it the right time. In this deadly dance we play with Pareigis, we must watch our pace and not stumble over our feet. Our collective wisdom is greater than all the cunning of the Queen Dowager and the Earl of Dieyre. Go, Lia. Go, Edmon. Safeguard her to my manor. The future of the realm depends on keeping Ellowyn Demont safe.”
* * *
Darkness settled over Muirwood with a sullen whisper. Rain-choked leaves burdened the limbs of the mighty oaks surrounding the Abbey. Inside the manor house, Marciana stood at the gap in the doorway of her resting chamber, guarding the scene. “Thank you, Aldermaston. I bid you good night. Tell my brother I will explain everything. He will understand. Thank you, again.” Slowly, she shut the huge oak door and settled the crossbar into place.
She turned and looked at Lia gravely. It was the first time they could speak privately since her time in the orchard with Colvin. “You dear creature,” she said simply. She sighed and shook her mane of hair. “My first reaction and admission must be honesty. I was surprised when Colvin revealed the nature of your conversation. But how can I blame you, when I esteem him so highly myself? We will speak more on this matter in due course. But first Lia, we must attend to you. A bath, I think, would do your spirits some good.”
Lia stared at her in amazement. “You are not angry with me?”
A puckish smile came with the reply. “I am sorry for you. But no, I am not angry. Ellowyn, would you mind if I attended to Lia first tonight?”
The shy girl smiled. “I would like to help. I can…I can wash her clothes after she’s done with the bathwater. It is late, after all, and we should let the lavenders sleep.”
“That is kind of you both,” Lia said, feeling sore and discouraged. The thought of a bath did sound pleasant. “But do not wait on me. I can bathe myself and clean my own gear.”
Marciana smiled. “Of course you are able to, Lia. But you are to be our guardian tonight and every night. You give us service in doing so. Please…let us offer this small service in return for yours. It will go faster with help. You let Pasqua and Sowe help you. Why not us?”
“Because you are both nobles.”
Marciana shook her head. “It would be a privilege, Lia. Please.”
Lia nodded in awkward agreement and went to the wooden tub in the far corner. The changing screen was folded open and Lia felt the gentle murmur of the Medium as the water Leering set into the wall near the tub flared to life and water began churning into the basin. Marciana concentrated harder and a gentle haze of steam followed shortly after. She glanced back at Lia and winked at her. “Is this warm enough?”
Lia had seldom visited the guest wing of the manor house, it being on the opposite side from the kitchen, closest to the main gates of the Abbey grounds. Most of the rooms had high windows set into the thick stone walls, but this room had none. The only way in or out lay through the sturdy oak door. The furnishings were elaborate. A single stuffed mattress, which the two ladies shared, lay against the northern wall, with canopied bedposts made of damask and velvet with golden tassels. Several couches, changing screens, tables and cushions, and a garderobe also complemented the design. Tapestries adorned the walls and rush-matting that was changed daily was green and fragrant. She ran her fingers through the stream of water and nodded.
Marciana treated the bath with scented oil and soap, making it frothy and inviting. She seemed familiar with the vials and stone basins and Lia figured she did not hire a servant to bathe herself as many nobles did.
“Let me help you out of those soiled clothes,” Marciana said. Lia unbuckled her leather bracers and girdle, which were filthy and damp. She suddenly remembered that she had not brought with her a clean gown. “What is it?”
“I have a spare dress is back in the kitchen,” she said softly. “I can send Astrid…”
Marciana touched her arm. “I have something you can wear. Do not worry. Here, hang your garments behind the screen.”
Lia slipped into the warm water and shivered. The tub was spacious, much more so than the one in the kitchen where she had bathed all her life. Having a water Leering next to it was ideal, for water did not need to be toted in buckets from the ovens. There was a fireplace and chimney with a fire Leering for warming water. But Marciana’s trick, learned from Colvin through Lia, had saved much time in filling it. With a soft sponge, she washed her arms and fingers while Marciana cleansed her hair with a dish of water just as Sowe had always done. The water turned a murky brown.
“You have lovely hair, Lia,” Marciana said and she squeezed the clumps of her tresses and wrung them out. With a sculpted wooden comb, she began untangling them.
“It can only be subdued for a while, never tamed,” Lia said wistfully. “It is not straight and beautiful, like yours and Sowe’s.”
“It is beautiful in its own right. It is darker than mine but not as dark as Sowe’s, and it has some lovely hints of copper amidst the crinkles. Here and here.” She knelt by the edge of the bath, her flowing sleeves a little damp but pushed up past the elbows. Lia was not sure how much time had passed, but she felt luxuriant and clean, as she had not felt for months.
“The water is cold. Can I dry by the fire now?” Lia asked.
“First something to wear,” Marciana said and rose. She went to one of her chests and withdrew a pale chemise with an embroidered hem. Lia had never owned a chemise before and as she slipped it on, it felt warm and soft against her skin, like a warm breath. It was loose at the shoulders, so Marciana helped tighten the lacings in the front. The sleeves fit her well but she was taller than the other girl so it did not reach down to her ankles.