The Ciphers of Muirwood (17 page)

The Aldermaston stiffened suddenly, breathing out sharply. “They are with us,” he sighed.

His wife nodded, squeezing his hand. The room throbbed with energy and emotion, with the thoughts and feelings of dozens of unseen minds and hearts. This room had been built on the grounds of the previous abbey. The Aldermaston before it had burned to the ground, Gideon Penman, had sacrificed his life to safe the abbey, to save Lia. Maia could not see the dead, but she sensed them in the air around her, thick like swirling leaves in an autumn windstorm. She could feel their determination and intensity.

The Covenant of Muirwood must be fulfilled
, she could hear them whispering. This moment was not about her and the rights that had been unjustly stripped away. It was about thousands of the dead who had been banished as well . . . banished because the Apse Veils were closed. She could feel them staring at her, willing her to succeed, trying to imbue her with the strength to open the gates so they could move on to Idumea. There were countless unseen hosts of the dead and she felt the awful weight of the burden they placed on her shoulders.

Free us
, they seemed to whisper to her.
Open the Veil
.

Maia put her face in her hands, quivering under the pressure of it. How could she face such a task? Such a burden? She was a hetaera, her shoulder scarred with the brand. How could she, of all people, face such a challenge?

She looked up, tear-stricken, and realized the others were staring at her in compassion. “I do not know how I can do this,” Maia said, her voice trembling.
There are so many . . . so many counting on me.
The enormity filled her mind, making her weak and doubtful.

“You will not do it alone,” the Aldermaston’s wife whispered.

But in Maia’s heart, she realized the Aldermaston’s wife was wrong.

Jon Tayt escorted her to the abbey just before dawn. A deep fog had settled over the grounds that night, shrouding everything in gray. Argus padded at her heels, sniffing the grass and flowerbeds as they passed. They reached the gate and saw a solitary man standing there, holding a torch to dispel the gloom. By his bulk, she could tell it was the chancellor.

As Maia walked toward the prick of light, she continued to feel the burden that had settled on her shoulders the night before. She had not slept at all. She was surrounded by ghosts, and she felt them with her at that very moment, keeping step with her, pleading with her. The strain on her mind and her emotions was intense.

The gate was closed. Maia stepped up and touched the cold, wet bars. The chancellor approached, eyeing her warily. She could hear the nickering of horses farther back, but the mist was as thick as soup.

The chancellor studied her face, looking for signs of what her answer would be.

“Thank you for coming all this way, Chancellor,” she said, trying to sound brave. “I came to Muirwood to become a maston. My parents both were and so were my ancestors. I feel a great . . . obligation to continue in the order. I will do my duty, Chancellor. I do not seek to be distracted by the politics of the court. Farewell.”

He stepped closer, his head nearly touching the bars. “Are you quite certain?” he hissed in a low voice. His jaw quivered with pent-up anger. She would not be his tool, his ally, the rope to prevent him from drowning. His eyes were accusing.

“I am,” she replied simply and turned to walk away.

“And what if you are cast out of your precious abbey?” he sneered at her, then checked his tone and made it more respectful. “These gates cannot protect you long, Lady Maia. Even
if
you become a maston.”

Maia heard a trickling sound and turned, seeing Argus, leg lifted, relieving himself on the gate post, the mess splattering onto the chancellor’s boots. His expression turned to disgust, and he scowled at the dog, backing away angrily.

Maia turned away to cover her smile and started off into the mist full of ghosts.

“Well done, Argus,” Jon Tayt muttered, right behind her.

Mastons learn that a peaceful conscience invites relief from anguish, sorrow, guilt, and shame. It provides a foundation for joy. It is of immeasurable worth. It is also incredibly rare.

—Richard Syon, Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The King’s Captain

S
tudies ended and Maia was anxious to breathe the fresh spring air and roam the grounds a bit to stretch her legs before supper. The learners were all gossiping about the upcoming Whitsunday festival and what would take place. The king’s boon companion and captain of his guard, Captain Carew, had arrived to settle the king’s accommodations. Maia learned her father would be staying at the Pilgrim Inn, just outside the grounds, and Captain Carew had come with a small cohort to inspect the inn and prepare it for the arrival of the royal visitors. He had brought a fat purse with him and was lavish in spending in the king’s name. There was much speculation as to why her father had chosen to stay outside the abbey grounds, but it was on everyone’s mind that a change in leadership at the abbey was under way.

Maia and Suzenne linked arms and started walking toward Jon Tayt’s lodge, for that was where they normally met Dodd for a walk in the gardens. They had not gotten very far when Maeg called after them.

Suzenne and Maia both turned to look, surprised.

Maeg did not have her typical sneer. In fact, she looked almost . . .
worried
.

“What is it?” Suzenne asked her, wrinkling her brow.

Maeg swallowed and pulled them both aside. “News from my father,” she said in a low voice. “I should have told you this sooner, but he asked me to account for both of you each day and to warn him if either of you ever left the abbey.” She looked pointedly at Maia. “There are rumors that . . . that a killer has been sent to murder you. The same man who poisoned your mother.”

The words unleashed a sudden shock of coldness in Maia’s heart. In her mind, she could see the kishion’s partial ear, his angry frown. Maeg looked very ill at ease, though her eyes were on Suzenne. Any danger that threatened Maia would also threaten her one-time friend.

“Thank you for telling me,” Maia said.

Maeg nodded, glancing down at her shoes. “Just do not wander far. I told Father that you spend a good deal of time in the Queen’s Garden. I think it would be wise if you stayed out of sight.” She glanced at Suzenne and frowned, her words stalling. She turned to leave, but then stopped to look back. “Captain Carew,” she said. “He is the captain of the guard. Father said he is here to protect you. He is inspecting the grounds. Do not be surprised if he speaks to you. He is loyal to your father, to be sure, but he is also loyal to Crabwell. You should know that.”

She turned to leave again, but Maia caught her sleeve.

“Thank you, Maeg.”

The other girl shrugged off the thanks and walked away, joining her friends and leaving the pair with their worries.

A strained silence descended between them as they walked to
the
lodge. It was strange. Maia’s father had hired the kishion to protect her on her journey to Dahomey, yet also with instructions to kill her if she were captured. They had traveled together a great distance,
his moods often mercurial and savage. Would he seek her out to mur
der her now, after so much had passed between them? Then again, the kishion himself had warned her that he was not to be trusted.

When they reached Jon Tayt’s lodge, they heard the sound of splitting wood. They rounded the corner to find Dodd putting another piece of wood on the stump. He paused when he saw them, wiping sweat from his brow. Maia had noticed a difference in him since he had started working with Jon Tayt. He was more tanned, his shoulders were broader, and his confidence with the axe as a weapon had also increased. Of them all, he could stick the throwing axes better than anyone except Jon Tayt himself, which he demonstrated often in the little competitions they had outside the hunter’s lodge. His collar was loose, exposing the glint of the chaen beneath his shirt. He hurriedly set down the axe and brushed his hands on his pants.

“Always wood to be split,” he said with a grin. “Jon Tayt is out riding with Captain Carew, hawking, I think. One of the escorts rode back early looking for some arrows, which I fetched for him. He thought I was a helper.” He chuckled at the mistake. “It is strange seeing so many soldiers on the grounds, most of them armed. I am grateful Jon Tayt showed me how to escape the grounds quickly. That knowledge may prove crucial very soon.”

“Maeg just told us that a kishion was sent to kill Maia,” Suzenne said worriedly. “Captain Carew is here to protect her.”

Dodd looked troubled and surprised. “So am I,” he said. “And so is Jon Tayt. I would like to see a kishion get through all of us. Do not fret, Maia. The Medium often warns of danger before it happens.”

“It did not warn my mother,” Maia said, still feeling conflicted over the situation. “We were going to the garden, Dodd,” she said tiredly. “Come with us. The flowers are blooming, and the blossoms are nearly gone. It is beautiful.”

“Of course,” Dodd said with a smile. Standing between them, he hooked his arms through theirs, and they all walked to the walled garden Maia’s mother had had constructed.

The air smelled of daffodils and purple mint. Bees were everywhere, tasting the sweet nectar of the blossoms, and the sun hung lazily in the sky, barely beginning its descent. The oaks surrounding the grounds were full of fresh green leaves. The last whispers of winter had vanished almost overnight, and the Cider Orchard was full of apple buds, each day swelling larger and larger. Spring was a magical time of year, a time of renewal and rebirth. Birds and chicks, feathery nests, tottering lambs—the world made new again.

They reached the walled garden and Maia used the Leering to open the door. The garden was in full bloom. All the effort they had poured in with Thewliss over the winter had resulted in a beautiful spread of plants and garden vegetables that ripened under the warm rays of sun. The door shut behind them, bringing an immediate feeling of peace and serenity.

“What kind of flower is that?” Dodd asked, stepping forward to one of the garden boxes full of tiny blue flowers with intricate yellow middles.

“Thewliss called them mouse ears,” Maia said. “They have a formal name, but I do not recall it.” She remembered “mouse ears” because it reminded her of the brush she had discovered in the mountains of Dahomey, mule’s ear, which smelled strongly of mint. The little blue flowers were a favorite of her mother, and the bed was thick with the small, five-petal flowers.

“No, I remember mouse ears. This one is different. I do not remember seeing it yesterday. It is white.”

Maia came closer and looked at it. Her heart galloped in her chest and a flush came to her cheeks. It was a white lily, sitting amidst the blue. Transfixed, she approached the box, her stomach clenching, her heart pounding. She had not seen it growing in the garden before. She reached out and touched it, and it toppled over, not connected to a stem. It had been placed there.

The sound of boots thumped on the ground behind her.

“Maia!” Suzenne warned.

Dodd rushed in front of her to confront the intruder.

“Oh,
that
,” Collier said with a slight accent, “is a Dahomeyjan lily. The blue are not called mouse ears, by the way. They are called forget-me-not in Dahomeyjan.
Ne-mou-blie
.” A small chuckle came from his mouth then, almost an exasperated snort.

Dodd stiffened with anger, his muscles tensing. “Who are you, sir?” he challenged, reaching for the throwing axe stuffed in his belt.

“You do not want to do that, friend,” Collier warned, his deep blue eyes narrowing. His sword and dagger were also in easy reach.

Maia stared at Collier in wonder, shock making her cheeks flush and her wits scatter like gnats. He wore the rider’s garb he favored for his Feint Collier persona, his dust-spattered pants and light shirt. He was full of seething energy, his eyes bright and accusing. Though he smiled, his mouth was sardonic, accusing, injured. His dark hair was a little unkempt, still long and thick. Her eyes went to the scar on his cheek, just below his eye—the one she had always noticed. He stared at her full in the face, his lips curling slightly.

“You stalked us here? Or you were waiting for us?” Dodd said, whipping out the axe to defend Maia.

Maia put her hand on his arm. “No, Dodd. He is not the kishion.”

“If I
were
,” Collier spat, “the three of you would be dead right now. Put down the axe, friend. I will not warn you again.”

“Dodd,” Maia insisted, tugging on his arm. She could see the muscles clench in Dodd’s neck, his cheeks flushed with anger.

“Who is he?” Dodd asked angrily. “He has a foreign accent.”

“I have tried to lose all hint of it,” Collier said with a chuckle, “but I see I have not succeeded. Yours is from the north. You are Forshee’s boy. Not the new Family, the old one. I think there is a rivalry between our Families,” he added with a smirk.

“Put it
down
, Dodd,” Maia urged, pulling harder. “I know him. He will not harm me.”

Collier raised his eyebrows at that, as if to challenge her statement.

“I beg your leave to speak with Lady Maia alone,” Collier said, bowing slightly.

Dodd’s face tightened with suppressed anger. “You may beg all you like,” he said testily. “But—”

“Suzenne, take Dodd outside. I will join you shortly.”

Suzenne looked as if she had been commanded to clutch a serpent to her bosom. Her eyes were full of concern. “Maia, this is not wise,” she whispered.

Maia tried to control her breathing. Her heart was afire with emotions. Her knees were trembling. She had assumed, she had desperately
hoped
, that there would be time to prepare for their first reunion. Her stomach cramped with worry and concern. Collier looked furious—tightly controlled, but furious still. He looked as if he hoped Dodd would attack and give him an excuse to run him through with his blade.

“Maia, you cannot be serious,” Dodd said, looking at her as if she were stark raving mad.

“I am quite serious, Dodd. Please. I know this man. I must speak with him alone. Please wait for me outside the garden. Go.”

Suzenne nodded in deference and started for the garden door.

“What is your name?” Dodd asked Collier angrily.

“Feint Collier,” he replied with a wry twist in his voice.

“
Fain
t
?” Dodd asked with a chuckle.

“Would you rather I call you Dodd or Dodleah? Both are equally bad.”

Dodd bristled at the words and Collier looked smug.

“Go,” Maia repeated in his ear, squeezing his arm. He stared at Collier with undisguised contempt, but he marched to the door with Suzenne, letting them both out.

A breeze fluttered through Maia’s hair, and she swept the strands away from her face. He was still as handsome as she remembered, but it hurt to look at him. A jagged wound of pain was clearly festering inside him. She could see it, and it only made her anguish expand. She did not know what to say to him.

“I am—” she started.

“I hoped—”

They had both spoken at the same time and stopped short, their feelings too raw to be expressed smoothly.

They eyed each other warily, and Collier snorted again before closing the distance between them. It had been many months since she had seen him. But the damage was visible. The feelings of distrust, anger, and betrayal were evident on his face. There was no tenderness there, which hurt even though it had been expected. She prepared herself for a storm.

“If you thought no one would recognize you in wretched robes . . .” he said, daring to speak “let me just say that it is a flimsy disguise. You are too beautiful not to be noticed.
This
only calls more attention to you. Have you no other clothes to wear? I gave you a rather nice gown recently. Too fancy perhaps for an abbey? You kept the earrings, I see.”

Maia closed her eyes, trying to steel herself. “Why are you here, Collier?” she asked.

He spread his arms and began to pace around the garden. “I am celebrating Whitsunday here, my dear. I know how you love to dance.”

The words were meant to hurt her, and they did. She stiffened.

“I am still a little shocked . . .” he went on. “Forgive my emotions, but are you truly such a simpleton as to walk around unprotected? I came with Carew today to help test the abbey’s defenses. There are none!” He sounded outraged. “There were no stern Leerings giving us frowning looks to warn us away. I told Carew to go hawking with Tayt to see how vulnerable it would leave you. I have been talking to many on the grounds, learning what I could about you, and it should
shock
you how easily I found out about your affection for this place. The garden is beautiful, Maia,” his voice rising almost to a shout, “but if I had been sent here to murder someone, it would have been too easy! The Leering at the door did not stop me from climbing the wall. Are you truly such a fool?”

Maia swallowed, feeling unnamable emotions raging inside her. Her words were all lost to her in that moment. He looked angry, certainly, but he also looked . . .
worried
about her. As if he actually still, to some small degree, cared about her safety.