The Banished of Muirwood (17 page)

“Do not hang those men,” Maia said desperately. Her stomach clenched with dread. In her surprise and panic, she had forgotten the threat to her companions.

“Hanging, beheading . . . makes little difference to me. The kishion deserves to dangle from a noose. Jon Tayt rejected my proposal and defied my invitation. He would not serve me for any amount of coin, which makes him useless to me. I will execute them both.”

Maia grabbed his wrist. “Do not harm them!”

His eyebrow crinkled with surprise. “They
must
die, Maia. I do not believe you are squeamish. This is another trick. You are so very good at deception. I applaud you, truly.”

She dug her fingers into his wrist. “They are my loyal servants. They obeyed me. If anyone is to be murdered tonight, it should be me.”

“That would defeat the purpose of my alliance,” he said, clucking his tongue. “Though plenty have been murdered since you entered my realm. The village on the top of the mountain. The guards on the north road. I deliberately told you to take the
south
road, did I not? And yet you rushed into the teeth of my men in an act of defiance.”

“You know we were attacked by the Dochte Mandar in the village,” Maia said, feeling more desperate with each moment. “Corriveaux and the Dahomeyjan soldiers are to blame for that. Not I.”

“And the watch on the north road? Hmmm?”

Maia’s face turned hot. “Your captain ordered his men to kill my protectors and bring me to his tent!”

Collier’s eyebrows lifted. “Truly?”

She wanted to pound on his chest with her fists. “Everything I have told you this evening
is
the truth!”

“Then show me your shoulder and
prove
it.”

“I am a king’s daughter,” she murmured.

“I am a king’s son,” he replied.

She knew that if she showed him her shoulder, he would discover she was not a hetaera.

An idea came to her. She wished she had the kystrel to advise her, but she did not.

She looked into Collier’s eyes. They were so blue she could drown in them. She saw the little scar on his cheek and wondered how he had gotten it.

“You are so interesting,” he murmured softly, reaching out and brushing aside some of her hair. “Why do you resist what is clearly in both our interests? You are not like I thought you would be.”

“My lord?” reminded the voice from outside.

He paused, hand still touching her hair. He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Her voice broke, almost unwillingly. “Release them. Set them free. Promise to let them go and not to harm them or injure them in any way. Pardon their treason in writing and with your seal.” She swallowed. “Then I will marry you.”

He stared at her, his eyes glimmering with delight. “Done.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Headsman’s Noose

S
he walked alongside Collier through the smoke-filled camp. He had changed from his rider’s tunic to an elegant doublet, black velvet and trimmed with gold sigils of the Dahomeyjan lily. He wore ceremonial chains around his neck and a signet ring on the little finger of his right hand. The same sword was belted to his waist, but his countenance and stride completely transformed him from his former persona. He had the bearing of a ruler as he walked through the camp with firm deliberation, stopping in front of an enormous tree with two long ropes dangling from it. Two stools stood by it, and kneeling before them were the kishion and Jon Tayt. Maia’s heart raced.

She heard Argus barking and saw a man wrestling with the boarhound, who had been fitted with a collar and a leather leash.

“Let them go,” Maia pleaded, wringing her hands.

Jon Tayt’s head whipped around, his eyes bulging with fear until he saw her. He smiled, though his expression looked more like a grimace. Then he looked at Collier, his eyes showing first confusion and then sudden understanding.

“Ach,” he muttered. “Now
that
is a surprise.”

Maia started to approach, but Collier grabbed her arm, preventing her. “Not too close,” he urged her. “Give the order.”

“Release them,” Maia said in a voice of command. “Set them free.”

The guards stared at her in surprise, then glanced at Collier for his orders.

“You heard my lady,” he said with a curt nod.

Jon Tayt’s eyes glowered. A dark look came over his face as several soldiers approached and loosened his bonds.

“Bring his dog,” Maia said, motioning to the soldier who still struggled with Argus.

As Jon Tayt struggled to his feet, the boarhound charged him and began licking him with a frenzy. The hunter whistled for Argus to heel and stared at Maia in shock. “By Cheshu, what have you done, lass?” he asked in Pry-rian.

Maia felt her heart aching, but she could not reveal her plan. Not in front of everyone. She answered in Pry-rian, “I release you from my service. May we meet again someday in Pry-Ree, in the mountains where men fear to tread.”

Collier gave her an angry look. “No more chat,” he said waspishly. “That is enough.”

“I released him from my service,” Maia replied, her expression equally dark. “He is Pry-rian, so I did it—”

“Yes, yes, be done with it. Take this letter,” he said, handing it to the hunter. “It bears my seal. You have a fortnight to quit the realm, Tayt. Return to Pry-Ree or Paeiz or wherever you choose. But if you set foot in my domain again, you will hang. As for you.” He turned his angry gaze to the kishion. “All my instincts tell me that you will be nothing but a problem for me later, and I should end your life tonight. I will not have you roaming my kingdom freely. Captain, take him to Calis and put him on a boat. I do not care where. Make sure he is not unbound until after you have deposited him on a ship and it has weighed anchor and left. If he attempts to flee, stab him in the ribs and spill his guts.” He clenched his teeth. “If you come near my lady again, I will kill you myself.”

The kishion’s eyes were hard and violent. He nodded once and said nothing, but his scarred cheek twitched.

“Send him away. Tayt—have some ale before you depart if you wish. But you must leave my camp before midnight. My lady wishes to spare you the noose, and so I obey her will.”

“Maia,” Jon Tayt said, his voice low and purposeful and full of warning.

“All is well, Jon Tayt,” she said, looking at him fiercely. “Do as I bid you this one last time.”

Argus seemed to sense something. He padded up to her and she lowered to caress his fur, getting a wet lick on her cheek for her efforts. It made her smile, and her throat closed with emotion. “Keep him safe,” she whispered to the boarhound.

Jon Tayt stood there, perplexed and obviously uncomfortable. “Well, Your Grace, thank you for not executing me, but I will not linger. Argus, come.”

The boarhound nuzzled Maia one last time and then trotted to catch up with Jon Tayt as he started to walk away. The hunter paused and turned, thought better of what he was about to say, and then disappeared into the smoke. The Myriad Ones mewled with frustration at having lost their kill for the evening.

Maia watched as the captain who had brought her to the tent arranged for the kishion’s banishment. His arms were still bound, his wrists tied behind his back, and she watched as he was helped onto a horse. His head hung low in defeat as someone took the reins for him, but she could see the defiance in his posture. He glanced back at her once, his eyes full of enmity. He then looked back and rode into the dark with the riders.

Maia felt a jolt of relief that she had managed to save both of her protectors, but she felt the loss of the kishion especially, since she was unlikely to see him again. They had been through so much together, and without him, she would have never survived this long. Better for him to be exiled than slain, but she would miss his companionship. Now she needed to buy some time and delay Collier’s plan. She hoped Jon Tayt was wise enough to realize that she had been telling him where to meet her again. The mountain pass guarded by the Fear Liath—the one they had planned to use for their escape. If she could get her kystrel back, she would leave for the pass immediately.

Maia and Collier returned to the pavilion, walking side by side. As they moved through the camp, she took note of details she had missed on her first whirlwind tour. The clank of pans and smell of sizzling meat filled the air. Fires crackled and the smoke shifted with the winds. She saw nobles dressed in finery mixing together, their garb more like their king’s. The common soldiers had stacked their breastplates and helmets near their fires, where the armor glimmered in the light. Stands of pikes stood at various positions throughout the camp.

Maia looked at the Leerings as she passed them, studying the design. They looked as if they had been taken from the ruins of an abbey, which cohered with what Collier had told her. The interior of the tent smelled soothing, and Maia suddenly realized she was starving. In their absence, trays of meat and vessels of melted cheese and broth had been arranged around one of the fur rugs.

“Are you hungry?” Collier asked her.

“Very,” she replied. With the haze over the camp, she could not make out the stars through the open roof.

He settled down on the rug and motioned for her to join him. It was by the brazier, so it was plenty warm. She knelt and smoothed the fabric of her skirt.

“What questions do you have for me?” he asked, skewering some meat and placing it in the broth. He did several, including some for her.

“You said you faced the maston test,” Maia said. “At what abbey? How old were you?”

“How old do you think I am now?” he asked, arching his eyebrows. “Do you remember?”

She nodded. “I was a little child when our parents arranged the marriage. You are two years younger than me,” she said. “I remember that.”

“I have always preferred the idea of marrying someone closer to my own age than a rich heiress who would only desire me for my youth and handsomeness.” He winked at her. “I took the maston test a year ago. I knew I would fail it and I wanted to be done with abbey life. My ancestor Dieyre was restless also. You know most of the history, do you not? Of my Family?”

She dipped bread into the bubbling cheese and savored it. “Dieyre sired a son through a wretched from Muirwood before the Scourging. That child was not a wretched, for the mother, a lavender named Reome, acknowledged the parentage. He was adopted into a Family, thus removing the taint of illegitimacy.”

Collier nodded. “Would you care for some wine or cider?”

“Water, if you please.”

“I will not poison you, Maia,” he said with a chuckle. “Or twist your thoughts with drink. As I said, I prefer a willing partner.”

“Water, please.”

He nodded and went to a table and poured some water from a pitcher into a fancy carved goblet. After delivering it to her, he served himself a glass of wine and sat back down on the rug.

“So when our ancestors returned from the distant shores to reclaim the lands, they learned that Dieyre had been the last man alive in the kingdoms. Most of my Family were strong in the Medium. My father was particularly devout as a maston. But I lost my faith, you might say, in Paeiz.”

Maia looked at him in curiosity. She smelled the cup first, tasted it, and made sure it was just water.

“As you know, all the various kingdoms continue to fight and wage war on each other. There was a land dispute between Dahomey and Paeiz. With so much of my kingdom still cursed, arable land is precious. What began as a border skirmish turned into a full-out war. My father summoned the army and went north and clashed with the Paeizian forces. It was a humiliating defeat, Maia. You know of it?”

“Yes, I learned of it when I was settling land disputes with Pry-Ree. War is wasteful.”

“We may agree to disagree on that point. My father was captured and humiliated by the Paeizians. In order to secure his release, he had to give them his two sons as hostages. My brother, whom you met earlier this evening pretending to be me, and I were sent to live at an abbey in Paeiz and receive our maston training there. To be honest, I spent more time finding ways to slip away from the abbey than I did learning to read and engrave. I was always discovered and fetched back, mind you, but I learned a few things that cannot be taught in tomes.” He removed the steaming meat skewers from the pot and set them down on a tray shared between them. She studied his hands, the small nicks and scars showed he was used to work and had been in many fights. It made her wonder how his hands had been so abused, especially since she now knew he had never been a wretched.

“Thank you,” she said, taking one of the skewers and eating the meat from it.

He waved her off as if it did not matter at all. “I met the king’s collier in Paeiz, who was often sent to the abbey to report on my brother and me.”

“What abbey?” she pressed.

“Antimo,” he answered, smiling. “Full of vineyards and orchards. It is a beautiful place. The king’s collier would come and go as he pleased. He was excellent at Paeizian fencing and started to train me when I was but ten.”

“You have studied for many years then,” Maia said, impressed.

“Yes, I was more disposed to weapons than tomes. And wine. I have very discriminating tastes, you will learn. I know that cider is a popular drink in Comoros. I like it, but apples are not the best fruit.” He took a bite from a meaty skewer and paused to savor it. “So my brother and I spent our formative years away from my father’s court. I was envious of my mentor’s freedom and wished that I could escape the drudgery of the abbey as he did, riding across the kingdom delivering messages and reports to and from his king. Before I even became king, I created the idea of Feint Collier. When I finally returned home, I would steal away from my lessons at the castle and ride long and hard and visit every corner of my father’s realm. That is how I met men like Jon Tayt and many others, who know me by my disguise rather than my true rank.” He tipped his wine goblet toward her. “So you see, that is another reason I pitied you, Maia. My imprisonment was the result of defeat. My father had no choice but to use his sons as hostages. He did all he could to raise the ransom to secure our release, and it took many years. Your father, on the other hand, imprisoned you himself. Did you not ever think of escaping?”

Maia sighed. The comfortable warmth of the fur rug and the savory food was distracting her from her objective. She was still angry at him for his blatant deception, but she could now see that trickery was part of his personality, part of his heritage even. She wanted to learn more about him, for it was impossible to tell how much of his reputation as the Mark was true, and how much had been his own invention. And she could not deny the little wriggling fish of jealousy in the pit of her stomach. He dared to do things she would never dream of doing. Loyalty was her duty. Not just to her father, but to her people.

“We are very different,” she said after taking a quick sip from her drink. “You always sought to escape Antimo Abbey. You wanted to be free. What I desired above all else was to be
sent
to an abbey. I want to learn from the tomes.”

“Done,” he said, winking at her. “In my realm, it will not be forbidden.”

“You would defy the Dochte Mandar?” she asked challengingly.

“I defy everyone, including you.” He sat up and brushed his hands together. “I hunger to humble Paeiz. Dahomey is too weak to do it, but with Comoros, I will prevail. I think Pry-Ree will be wise enough to submit to us without an invasion. They are the smallest kingdom, and we do owe them something for saving us all. One by one, chit by chit, mark by mark, crown by crown. I am deeply ambitious, Maia.”

“I can see that,” she agreed. “What you ask me to do is called treason, though, in my kingdom. My father declared me illegitimate.”

“And I will make him repent his words and actions,” Collier answered. “Just as my father was humiliated by the King of Paeiz, I will humble your father. I am gathering my strength to invade Comoros, Maia. One of the terms of surrender I was willing to accept was you. You are his heir, whether he admits it or not.”