The Blight of Muirwood (34 page)

“You do not need to look to him for permission, love,” Dieyre told her. “He has already decided. He will do anything to save his sister. As will I. Do you need my help getting past the watchmen guarding the road? We are on horseback so I assume we are not using the tunnels.”

Dieyre was right. Colvin had decided. She could see it plainly on his scowl.

“No, I think we can manage well enough,” Lia replied. She needed to use the orb to find Ellowyn and Marciana. In the dark, it tended to glow rather brightly and she knew it would be difficult hiding it from him. She did not relish the thought of him knowing that she had it or that she could use it. The less she said, the better.

She opened the pouch at her waist and withdrew the golden orb. His eyes widened with surprise when he saw it. He looked at her questioningly.

“The Aldermaston gave it to me,” she answered, which was true in a real sense. In her mind, she thought of Ellowyn’s face. She imagined how worried she was, how much she had feared being abducted by the Pry-rians and forced to marry someone who did not even speak her language. She saw her frightened eyes, the dull color of her hair and let herself be drawn in to the need to find her. A safe road that would help them catch her.

The orb began to whir and then the spindles pointed clearly. Lia gave Dieyre a challenging look. “Try and keep up.”

Lia could not believe her good fortune in finding a thicket loaded with ripe shrewberries. The patch grew wild and was thick with thorns, but plentiful with dark pink fruit – surprisingly so considering its remote location in the Bearden Muir. It was late in the day and she was hot, weary, and soaked with sweat. Colvin and Dieyre kept up with the punishing pace, but she could see Colvin swaying in the saddle, exhausted by the hard ride and lack of sleep. Muck and mud spattered their mounts which foamed at the mouth with the efforts.

“Rest the horses,” Lia suggested, pulling short of the thicket and dismounting.

“There is daylight left,” Dieyre countered. “Ride on.”

“We have tortured the beasts enough for today,” Lia said. “Some of us need rest as well.” She crouched by the thicket and began plucking buds of fruit from the thorny stems. They were juicy and fat and she tasted their sweetness, finding only the hint of bitterness. The patch was in a well-lit spot, so the sun had ripened them. They were delicious.

Dieyre’s horses snorted and wheezed, but he looked around distastefully. “What are those? Thimbleberries?”

“We call them shrewberries in this Hundred,” she replied. “You are like as not to prick your fingers on the stalks, so be careful. They are very soft. You have to eat them right away.” She stuffed another one in her mouth. Each had hard little seeds that contrasted with the softness. “They will not keep, so eat your fill.”

Colvin slumped off the saddle and approached, his face haggard and weary. She recognized the expression – saw the tight, tired lines around his eyes. He was irritable when tired, so she did not speak to him.

“We are wasting daylight,” Dieyre complained.

Lia felt impertinent. “No, you are wasting an opportunity to fill your belly with something better than mushrooms. It is always wise to stop and savor what the wilderness puts in your path, like a coney or a deer. Always be ready for the gift and be grateful.”

Colvin pricked himself on a thorn and snatched his hand back. She had picked enough to fill her palm and offered them to him. Her fingers were quick and more dextrous than his. He took them with a grateful nod and started eating them ravenously.

She picked more, eating as she went, searching for the easiest fruit. Dieyre studied her a moment, scowling, and then swung off the saddle and joined in the feast. He also pricked his hand, but he did not accept any of the morsels she offered. After eating several, his expression changed.

“How far do you think they are from us?” he asked her.

“I do not know,” she answered truthfully. “We are not going the same way they did.”

“That is what I do not understand,” he returned, bristling as he had many times that day. “We are not following their trail, but we are going to where they will be. That does not make any sense to me. How can a ball made of gold know where they are going to be?”

“I cannot explain it, for I do not understand it myself. It just works.”

“But how? It could be leading us anywhere. Or nowhere. How do you know it is not pointing the way to Dahomey?”

Lia looked at Colvin and saw the muted smile on the other’s mouth. The amount of doubt and disbelief in Dieyre’s voice…he would never have gotten the orb to work.

“Dahomey is south,” Colvin replied testily. “We are headed north.”

Dieyre looked exasperated. “I know that well enough, Forshee. What I am saying is you are putting all your faith in a trinket. A bauble. You do not even know how it works.”

Colvin stuffed another cluster of fruit into his mouth. “I do not need to understand it to believe in it. You do not believe in the Medium, so how can any explanation satisfy you? Let it alone.”

“I did not say I do not believe. Only that I have never had the patience for it.”

Colvin gave him a hard look. “You are welcome to find your own road.” He looked back at Lia and nodded gratefully to her, rising to his feet stiffly. He offered her his last shrewberry. “I will feed the horses.”

She stared at him pointedly. “You need rest.”

He nodded, not disagreeing. “Let me help first. I will take the third watch, if that is all right.”

“Weary, Forshee?” Dieyre asked with a smirk.

“I have not slept in three days. It was all I could do to stay on the saddle this long.” He touched Lia’s shoulder. “Do wake me, Lia. When it is my turn.”

“I will,” she promised, wishing the Earl of Dieyre would stop smirking at them.

* * *

Lia blinked awake in the middle of the night, shivering beneath her cloak. No one had wakened her and it was quiet, save for the creak of gnarled oaks and the hiss of the wind through the leaves. In the distance somewhere, a frog croaked. She glanced up at the stars to see the patterns and knew at once that it was well past her turn for a watch. Was Dieyre being generous, she wondered? Rising on her elbow, she glanced around and found Dieyre asleep, head pillowed on his arm. She moved closer to him and heard his distinct breathing and was sorely tempted to kick him sharply in the ribs for falling asleep on his watch.

Rubbing her arms for warmth, she moved around the makeshift camp, grateful to see the three horses still tethered. It would be dawn before long, so she decided to let Colvin sleep. She nestled near him, on the ground, so that she could look at his face in the dark. Being with him in the Bearden Muir was so different now. Before she had been such a child, whimpering with fear in the dark, easily upset by his gruffness and impatience. She was of little use to him once her fears had mastered her and the Cruciger orb stopped working. They were memories that shamed her. Here he was, asleep next to her, his breathing so faint and shallow. She yearned to smooth the hair away from his forehead but dared not touch him. A flood of emotions came with the thought and she almost reached out before catching herself.

Folding her arms tightly, she turned away from him and gave thought to their course. Knowing the terrain better, she had determined the orb was leading them northeast. She half-expected to wind up on the Bridgestow road, for that city was a two day ride from Muirwood – a major port town that traded with Dahomey and Pry-Ree. She had been there once during the year, on an assignment from the Aldermaston to purchase supplies that could only be found in such a place. But if they were going to Bridgestow, had the orb led them into the moors to avoid the Queen Dowager’s men? Surely they would not be able to travel as fast. Or was their quarry taking a different path to Pry-Ree, knowing that the major roads would be watched?

The hunter is patient. The prey is careless.

She wanted to be careful in their pursuit of Martin. He knew about her orb. He was probably expecting her to hunt after him. He would be cautious and deliberate. She knew in her bones that instead of hunting after Scarseth, he had made a foray into Pry-Ree and plotted to kidnap Ellowyn. Having her so close to the borders of Pry-Ree must have proven a temptation he could not resist, for all his loyalty to the Aldermaston. Or had he made up his mind after leaving? She thought back on the moment when he left to hunt Scarseth. She had hugged him with affection, and he had looked as if he wanted to tell her something, but could not. Was his betrayal festering in his mind? She was so disappointed in what he had done. Loyalty was something the Aldermaston treasured and expected. But surely he had justified the actions in his mind. If Muirwood were to fall, then in what Abbey in the kingdom would she be safe? Why not disappear into Pry-Ree where her own people would shelter her and hide her, even though she herself was terrified of that prospect? Lia clenched her jaw, shaking her head. The girl was probably beside herself with worry. Her greatest fear had just been realized. Hopefully Marciana was keeping calm and watchful, looking for a way to escape their captors.

Lia plucked up an oak twig and twirled it between her fingers. She did not want to hurt the Pry-rians, for they were
her
countrymen as well. How could they free the girls without bloodshed? She did not know, just as she did not know how she was going to free Colvin when Almaguer held him at the Pilgrim Inn. She only knew that she had to try. Her best hope, she felt, was in persuading Martin to release her willingly. To assure him that the Abbey had not fallen to the Queen Dowager or her minions.

Colvin’s voice whispered like a ghost behind her. “Is it my watch yet?”

She turned and looked down at him. Gently, she touched his shoulder. “Dieyre fell asleep. I only awoke myself a short while ago. I will wake you at dawn.”

Colvin snorted in the dark. “He slept?”

“He was probably more tired than he realized.”

“Do not defend him, Lia.”

She gave him a playful look. “I have no intention of doing that. He will get the last watch from now on. Go to sleep. I am sure you are still tired.”

He slowly sat up, twisting himself around to face her. “I feel much better. Besides, with him asleep, we can speak more freely. Do you know where we are?”

“I believe so. I think we are still in the Bearden Muir.” She said it with all seriousness.

“How can you joke,” he muttered darkly.

“Teasing is different than joking. We are threading the Bearden Muir towards Bridgestow.”

He brought up his knees and rested his arms on them, then lowered his chin on his arms. He sat very close so he could whisper. “Bridgestow has always been loyal to Demont. Years ago during the civil war, Sevrin Demont was in negotiations within Pry-Ree when the old king mustered an army to threaten him. He tried to cross back into the realm, but the bridges were all destroyed. Bridgestow sent ships to ferry him back, but they were caught and burned. Shortly after that, the battle of Maseve. I doubt the city leaders are part of this plot. I believe they are loyal to our side.”

Lia shifted into a more comfortable position. Their backs slightly touched. “Would they help us free her?”

“I think so.”

“That is good to know. We need allies.” She chose to be quiet, not wanting to interrupt his thoughts or annoy him with banter. She sat still, listening to the desperate frog croaking in the silence and said nothing.

His voice was even softer. “Why did you help me?”

She was expecting a question like that. She had puzzled over the possible question all day, turning it this way and that in her mind as if trying to determine the best way to free a nut from an unripe shell. She was not sure if she had a suitable answer. “Because you needed it,” she replied simply. She felt a smirk color her next words. “You require a good deal of looking after, my lord Earl of Forshee. Member of the Privy Council.” A gentle nudge to his shoulder.

“That is true,” he said, the hint of amusement in his voice. He cleared his throat carefully. “Have you thought of what you wanted from me? I did promise to reward you.”

She was quiet in response, deliberately so. She could not say what was brimming up inside her heart. Could not ask for what she wanted most to hear and knew he could never say. So she waited in silence, letting it stretch out. Sometimes silence was more meaningful than words.

Apparently, it was torturing him.

“Lia?”

“Yes?”

“Did you…did you hear my question?”

“Yes,” she replied simply. Did he remember that he had once accused her of being too talkative? “You owe me nothing. Not reading or engraving. Not a dance around the maypole. I release you from all obligations. I was childish when we first met. You were bloodstained and vomiting in the kitchen. I did not see you as a person, but as a means of getting what I wanted.” She sighed deeply. “What I came to realize is that what I wanted more than anything was just to be your friend. That was enough. I thought I lost that a few days ago. But when you came back and asked for my help, I realized that a true friend is not easily offended. If you could swallow your pride and ask for help, I could swallow mine and give it without bartering for something. You need me and I am fond of Marciana and Ellowyn. And besides, you are not nearly clever enough to outfox Martin. I know how he thinks. Maybe that will help. Maybe not.”