Just as the Aldermaston had said,
Lia thought.
“It is a small Abbey, noteworthy of nothing, in the eastern part of the realm, near the sea. Demont was already dealing with rebels, and so he sent Edmon and I to the Abbey for the girl. She was there, living by another name. The Aldermaston had lived there when she arrived and knew her true identity, though he had never spoken it for fear of the old king. He released her into our custody with a warning. He was told by the king’s men that if she ever escaped, his Abbey would be burned to the ground. The king’s men swore they would find the child and kill her and any of her offspring. He charged us to protect her, and we have kept that charge. The Pry-rians want her back naturally as she is the only surviving heir.”
He crouched near her, so close she could see her reflection in his eyes. His expression was almost painful to look at. “I thought it was you, Lia. I had hoped that by not keeping my promise to you, I would be able to bring you far better news. I am sorry I abandoned you. For the last year, I have been at various Abbeys while Ellowyn is taught to read and scribe in our language, Pry-rian, and Dahomeyjan. Three languages, instead of one. Her head nearly burst! My sister, Marciana, is her companion. It has been a…difficult transition for Ellowyn. She was a lavender at Sempringfall. When I met her, she smelled like that bunch of flowers I saw you with this morning. The scent reminded me of you.” He stopped and breathed deeply, staring down at the grass. “Knight-mastons are being murdered, rebels are skulking in the woods, the Privy Council has threats of war from three other kingdoms, and I…I must coax a girl to read who is terrified of learning, who is terrified of the Medium, and who would rather be washing clothes in a trough.” He looked at her, being open with his disdain. “When the latest threat to her life came, we were at Billerbeck. I suggested we come to Muirwood. This is the oldest Abbey in the realm. Your Aldermaston is very wise and may help her to master her fears. But most importantly, I wanted to be able to tell you in person why I could not come earlier and apologize for neglecting you. The Aldermaston will not let you become a learner in the cloister. You must continue to serve until your obligation is fulfilled. But my oath to you still binds me. It is a duty which I will, for once, enjoy. I am forbidden to teach you now how to read and engrave, Lia, but I am not forbidden to share with you what I know and what I have scribed in my own tome.”
Lia took a deep breath, trying to keep it calm and even. So much had happened in so short a time. Of all her feelings, it was jealousy that tormented her. She was jealous that the other girl, who had once been a wretched, had been found. She had been allowed the privilege of enjoying Colvin’s company for a year. The privilege of learning to read
three
languages and practice the Medium openly. What Lia would not have given to have had that opportunity! It was a petty feeling, and she crushed it in her mind, unwilling to let it fester or take root.
“What about your other promise?” she asked, glancing down as she twisted the apple stem and plucked it out.
“The other promise?”
“The one you whispered in my ear when you left?” She glanced up at him.
A knowing smile crossed his mouth. He rose and wandered a few steps, leaned back against the trunk of a tree, and folded his arms. “Well, I never said
which
Whitsunday I would ask you to dance.”
“So you
were
going to ask me to dance? That was your intention?”
“You had said it was to be your first year to dance around the maypole. It was also an opportunity to meet you. It did not come to pass as I wished. But patience is the companion of wisdom. It is also a trait you need to practice, Lia.”
“If I were not so
patient
,” she said, tearing another bite from her apple with her teeth. “I would have broken your foot when you surprised me last night.”
“Break my foot? Ample reason to avoid dancing with you this year.”
“You were very kind a moment ago, Colvin,” she said, pleased he was teasing her. “A year past, you could scarcely speak ten words without insulting me. But it did not take you long to fall back to your bad ways.”
He gave her a self-mocking smile. “Much has changed in a year. Including yourself. But I have been working on my manners. My sister is in charge of improving me. She will undoubtedly solicit your help. She would like to meet you tonight.”
Lia shrugged. “It is probably a hopeless quest, but we must try. I have not changed that much, really. I am still as filthy as when we left the Bearden Muir. My dress was in tatters from wandering the hills so I wear these clothes now. My skin is falling off like a leper because of a dangerous plant sap I stumbled into a few days ago. My clothes were blotched with it, which is why I screamed at you last night. I am even taller now, if that is possible, and it can hardly be called an improvement.” She licked her lips, trying to match his self-mocking smile. “If you were too ashamed to dance with me, I would understand. You are a knight-maston from Winterrowd and an earl no less.”
His smile faded. “I have three earldoms now, actually. But I do not care what anyone else thinks, Lia. I had not even noticed any of those things. To me, you could never be ugly.”
* * *
“Imagine, if you will, that the sum of all human thoughts could be represented on a measuring scale. The thoughts of a powerful maston, one enabled by the Medium to his fullest potential, could each be represented by a gold coin on one side. Imagine then that all of the evil, uncontrolled, vengeful thoughts have the weight of chaff and try to tip the scales. The world is a granary of ill-bred thoughts. There is enough to weigh down the world, to bury each one of us alive. Yet if we have enough of the good, it balances it out or keeps it firmly in the cause of right. Imagine then, scales the size of a kingdom. How many gold coins are there compared with chaff? Enough – just enough. There is enough weight and enough strength to keep the scales balanced. But if you begin to remove the gold coins, one by one? Then every seed of evil matters. Every little seed begins to tip the scales. As long as the scales are balanced to the side of the mastons, the Medium blesses everyone – both the evil and the good. But if the balance is altered, if the weight of the wrong begins to exceed the weight of the right, it triggers the Blight to purge the chaff. It is a warning from the Medium. There are curses that follow.”
- Gideon Penman of Muirwood Abbey
* * *
Lia’s curiosity about Colvin’s sister was intense. Since he had told Lia that she would meet her that night in the Aldermaston’s kitchen, as she went about her duties that day, she wondered what Marciana would be like. Wondering made her worry. Most learners were wealthy and spoiled, and only the rare ones like Duerden treated wretcheds with any respect. Each year, only a dozen or so new learners joined the Abbey and even fewer who fully completed the training. Fewer still who earned the rank of maston. Was Marciana selfish and spiteful, like Reome? Was she timid like Sowe? Was she like Colvin when she had first met him, always on the verge of anger and never bothering to mask his contempt? She hoped not. But still, she worried.
As evening came, and though she knew they were waiting for her in the kitchen, she had to finish walking the grounds. With Martin gone, she walked in measured steps, patiently, looking for any sign of passage. She checked the nearer shore of the fish pond, skirted the Cider Orchard because she had already checked it after visiting with Colvin, then came around to test the gate locks before returning to the kitchen. Her stomach was a hive of bees by the time she approached the door to the kitchen. What had Colvin told Marciana and Ellowyn about her?
She paused for a moment at the threshold, took a deep breath, and pulled on the handle. The moment would linger in her memory. There was Pasqua, in the middle, teaching everyone to make Gooseberry Fool.
“Whip it harder, like Sowe is. Yes, firm strokes. Yes, the sugar makes it sweet. There is the cream. Like Sowe, faster. Where are the spoons? Edmon, the spoons. Over there. We can share from the bowl.”
The opened door revealed both Sowe and Bryn in their aprons and each clutching a bowl. Bryn was trying to match the strokes of Sowe, but could not do it without spilling it. Two other finely dressed girls were nearby, watching the mixture happen.
“There she is!” said one of the girls, a smile brightening her face. She was as tall as Sowe, as slender and graceful as a swan. Her golden hair was crowned with a braided coil and her dress – it was as richly textured as the best in Muirwood, a deep green – like a velvet forest in the spring. Instead of a girdle, she wore a vest with thin lacings up the front. The sleeves were wide and pointed, barely covering her arms with an intricate stitching lining for the trim. There were no jeweled chokers or rings or necklaces, only a pendant with a deep azure stone set into it. Her arms and wrists were thin, her fingers delicate. She was beautiful and the beauty also shone from her eyes.
She approached swiftly and embraced Lia as if they had known each other all their lives. Lia was taller, slightly, and felt filthy compared to her having just walked the grounds.
“I am Marciana,” she said, taking Lia’s hands in hers, as if she could care less about the dirt and brush clinging to her hair. “Colvin has told me so much about you, I would have recognized you without the hunter’s garb. Please, you must be famished! Pasqua has been teaching us one of her naughty desserts. I love Gooseberry Fool. Did you find the spoons, Edmon?”
“At your service, as always, Ciana. Hello, Lia. I am a fool for Gooseberry Fool myself. There is something about the fruit in this Hundred. The Gooseberries are only slightly tart…you can eat them by the handful. And the apples! By Idumea, they are delicious! I had never tasted Muirwood apples before coming here. Had you, Colvin?”
Lia glanced at Colvin, feeling overwhelmed by Marciana’s exuberant welcome, and their eyes met. Muirwood apples had been their only food in the Bearden Muir.
“They are quite good,” he said simply, their eyes flashing with the shared secret. But he said nothing further.
The other girl hovering near Colvin had reddish-bronze hair and could not have been a starker contrast to Marciana. Colvin’s sister had all the confidence of a girl who had been raised in privilege, part of a Family who adored her, and with the good looks and charms that had never failed to impress. The other girl, Ellowyn, was dressed in clothes every bit as fine as Marciana’s, but she looked like a wretched. Her eyes were slightly downcast, her manners timid yet not as timid as Sowe’s. It was as if she wanted to join the fun in the kitchen, but did not trust herself to leap in. She stood in Colvin’s shadow, as if he were a rope that would keep her from drowning in a sea of memories. A year before, she had been serving in an Abbey. For the last year, she had been close to Colvin. Something dark twisted inside of Lia at the thought.
Pasqua’s voice strained with impatience. “Bring the spoons, Edmon, over here! Come have a taste. With the sugar and cream, the berries are even sweeter. You can mix in blackberries as well. And cake. A little cake is also good.” She grabbed a spoon from his hand and served him a dollop of Fool.
“It is amazing, Pasqua!” His face lit up with enjoyment as he tasted it. “And so fresh. How lucky you all are, to have it so fresh. You could sell this at the festival!”
Bryn and Sowe both burst out giggling at that remark, and he turned to them, confused.
“She does!” Bryn said, covering her mouth while laughing. “Every year.”
He smiled, chagrined. “I remember now. You already told me that. Colvin, you must try this Fool!”
They were also very different, Lia observed. Colvin and Edmon. Both wearing knight-maston swords at their belts, along with collars from Winterrowd. Both wearing the same jerkin and padded shirts. Edmon was more at ease – one who could mix company gladly and care not whether he was with nobles or wretcheds. When Lia observed him, she saw Duerden’s traits of kindness and compassion. A few more years and he would have all the girls giggling at some brainless remark. But Colvin was different. He was reserved, aloof, but always watchful. More circumspect and guarded than Edmon.
Lia watched as Colvin dipped his head and whispered to Ellowyn, motioning subtly towards the bowl and offered spoon. Ellowyn smiled enthusiastically, as if deferring to his judgment in the matter of whether she should taste it. He served her himself. Sowe and Bryn joined in, as did Pasqua.
Marciana clung to Lia’s arm, as if she could not stand to be apart from her for a moment. Subtly, she led Lia away from the others. “So this is where you have lived your life,” she said softly. “I am sure you begrudge not having a family, Lia. I know I would. But Muirwood is a beautiful Abbey. I love it here already. I was so excited to come, especially knowing that it would bring us together at last. If there is anyone in the world he speaks more highly of, I do not know who it is.” She stopped prattling, her eyes seeking out Lia’s. “You must know that I love my brother, that I regard him more than any other man.
You
saved his life, Lia. It was here, on these very stones that you tended him. It was up there, in the loft, where you hid him. He says I must beg your permission before he can show me Maderos’ lair, for that ground is forbidden to learners, and I am a learner. I know what happened in the Bearden Muir. I have told no one else, not even Ellowyn. I shall keep your secret as you kept his when that cruel sheriff hunted him. I must tell you how indebted I am to you.” She patted Lia’s hands and then kissed them. “Thank you, Lia. You saved his life. I owe you something for that.”