The Ciphers of Muirwood (21 page)

Maia felt her knees begin to tremble. Her voice was hoarse in her own ears. “I will not rebel against my father.”

Simon shook his head. “I did not suggest you should. Yet. All I am suggesting is that you do not give in to him. Even if he threatens your life. If you are a maston, even
he
cannot evict you from these grounds. Perhaps the world should see what happens if he tries.”

Maia swallowed, feeling her stomach twisting into knots.

“I am certain the Medium will not allow Muirwood to fall without a struggle. Let us go,” Sabine said with a determined nod to the Aldermaston and his wife. “Prepare the abbey. It is time Maia took the maston test.”

Belief and character are intermixed. Following the Medium’s whispers over time will forge a strong character that can be called upon in times of desperate need. Character is not developed in moments of temptation and trial. That is when it is intended to be used.

—Richard Syon, Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Forbidden

T
he nervous feelings inside Maia’s stomach made it difficult to concentrate. Darkness had fallen across the abbey grounds, a solemn darkness that brought with it a weighty silence. Maia and Suzenne sat next to each other in the Aldermaston’s study, wearing simple white learner robes and outer cloaks with veiled hoods. They were to take the test together.

“Are you as nervous as I am?” Suzenne whispered, clutching Maia’s hands.

Maia could not speak. She only nodded.

Suzenne stroked her arm. “Jayn told me the maston rites are nothing to fear. They are . . . solemn. Symbolic. She was . . . different after passing the test. More thoughtful and serious.”

“You are already serious,” Maia teased, nudging her shoulder.

Suzenne smiled, and Maia admired her friend’s regal beauty and good nature. Such a contrast to Maeg, she thought. Maeg and the other learners who were finishing their studies at Muirwood would be taking the maston test the next day. There was so much change coming. A new Aldermaston—what would he do about the Ciphers if he learned of them? Each girl had taken a tremendous risk to be taught to read and engrave. If the Dochte Mandar were to find out, they would all be hunted down.

“That has always been my temperament,” Suzenne said. She sighed. “My parents will be arriving on the morrow. I must tell them I plan to marry Dodd. They will not be pleased, to be sure!”

“It is your choice, is it not?” Maia whispered sympathetically. “And you love him.”

“I do love him . . . so much that it hurts. After tonight, everything will change. When you open the Apse Veil . . . oh, Maia, all will change! I think of the mastons waiting across the ocean. They have been waiting for so long. Will we speak the same language? Will they feel like . . . lost cousins?” She smiled broadly, head cocked.

Maia’s stomach twisted even more. “That is assuming that I
can
open it.”

“It begins with a thought,” Suzenne reminded her sternly. “This is no time for doubt. You must do it, Maia.” She squeezed her arm. “I believe you can. I believe the Medium prepared you for this moment.”

“Well, so long as I can lift such heavy expectations,” Maia said with a smirk. “I do feel . . . uneasy. I suppose that would be the case under normal circumstances, but tonight is oppressive with . . . I do not know the right word. Even the air feels different.”

“I do not feel it any differently,” Suzenne said. “Does it feel more solemn for you?”

Maia shook her head. “
Brooding
is the word I was thinking of. I have read in the tomes that the Medium gets like this at times. Especially before something significant happens. I can see my grandmother feels it as well. So does the Aldermaston.”

There was a tap on the door, and the Aldermaston’s steward, Tomas, entered. He wore long cream-colored robes and a matching cloak. He was so tall that they would have recognized him even with his gray hairs covered. He looked very much like an Aldermaston, except for the dimples in his cheeks, which lent him an altogether jolly air.

“Are you both ready?” he asked, flashing the dimples with a pleasant smile. Suzenne and Maia nodded and both rose from the bench.

“Cover your faces,” he instructed gently, gesturing toward the veils and hoods they had been given. They did so and followed him down the hall illuminated by a lantern he held in his strong hand. Because of the late hour, the corridors were abandoned. Their slippered feet padded softly to the doors.

The night sky glittered with stars, interrupted only by a fringe of clouds on the western horizon. The grass was soft and damp as they trod the short distance from the manor house to the abbey. As Maia gazed up at it, her stomach flipped as if she were staring off a cliff. The scaffolding had all been dismantled, and the polished stone seemed to glitter in the starlight. It was massive, impressive, and the sight of it filled Maia’s heart with deep reverence. She could sense the Medium rejoicing in its freedom from the timber cocoon. As they approached the huge pewter door inset into the side of the abbey, Maia saw another person, also veiled and waiting in the shadows. The figure detached from the darkness, and by the walk and grace, she recognized it as Sabine, who had also covered her hair and was wearing a veil.

The nervous feeling inside Maia only increased. The abbey rose like a mountain, giving her the same sense of wonder she had experienced looking at the various mountain ranges she had trekked through in Dahomey and Mon. Memories of Cruix Abbey, which she had unwittingly destroyed, flashed in her mind, making her cringe with anguish and regret. Taking a deep breath, she tried to master her feelings, though worry hung heavy in her stomach. She could not bear it if anything harmed Muirwood. She loved the abbey and the grounds, having found a peace in the few months she had lived here unlike any she had felt throughout her life.

Sabine approached her and took her hands, squeezing them. “Are you ready?” Maia could hear the emotion in her voice.

“I am,” Maia replied, desperately trying to feel it was true.

Sabine touched Suzenne’s arm, stroking it affectionately, and then turned toward the abbey. They all started to walk toward the pewter doors. All except Maia. Her feet were rooted in place, her legs seized with trepidation.

After several steps, the others noticed she had not followed.

“What is it?” Sabine asked, looking back at her.

Maia’s heart hammered in her chest. Sick fear had leeched into her blood. Her legs would not move. Her tongue felt swollen in her mouth. She willed herself to close the distance. Her body would not obey.

Sabine walked up to her and took her hand. “There are Leerings set into the doorway. You must silence them to pass,” she whispered.

Maia nodded, trying to wrestle her terrors into submission. The very air was suddenly oppressive. The abbey glowered down at her, and she felt so insignificant and small in comparison. She bowed her head and reached out to the Leerings in her mind.
Let me pass
, she pleaded.

There was a voice in her mind, a whisper that cut through stone and bone.

You are forbidden
.

Trembling, Maia felt herself faltering, her vision blackening slightly. Dizziness washed over her. The feeling nearly drove her to her knees.

“Go on ahead,” Sabine told Tomas, motioning for him to take Suzenne. Her friend stared back at her in surprise and concern, her brow wrinkling, but the steward took her arm and they both walked effortlessly up to the pewter door and opened it. A shaft of light momentarily blinded Maia and then it was gone and they were inside.

Maia panted with panic, gazing up at the looming spire. Every crenellation, every slant had been meticulously carved. The stones thrummed with power. She could sense it, overpowering and awful in its majestic omniscience.

“I cannot enter,” Maia said huskily, clutching her grand
mother’s arm.

“Was it the Leering?” Sabine said with concern in her voice.

“No, it is more than just a Leering,” Maia said bleakly. “I heard the Medium’s whisper forbidding me. I am not worthy yet.”

Maia bowed her head and started to cry, feeling the disappointment and despair crushing her so low that she could not contain the tears. She, Maia, who still hardly ever cried! The internal pressure to succeed had created this waterfall of anguished tears, which flowed unrestrained. Sabine wrapped her in her arms, hugging her close. It was the mark on her shoulder, she thought. And the tattoo on her chestbone. It was too soon. She was still vulnerable to the Myriad Ones. The abbey must be condemning her.

“Shhh,” Sabine soothed. “I felt tonight was the right time. The Medium moved me to bring you here. Maybe there is another reason. Do not despair.”

“How can I not?” Maia said miserably. “The abbey was my last comfort. I have given up everything . . . power, jewels, fine gowns . . . friendships. I have abandoned my father. I have lost my husband. Yet it is still not enough. The taint from the Myriad Ones afflicts me still.” She clutched Sabine’s hands. “I am willing to do anything the Medium asks of me. What more must I give?”

Sabine raised her veil and cowl and then lifted Maia’s. She looked into her eyes with compassion and sympathy, which made Maia’s heart burn with shame at the depths of her own despair. No, she had not lost everything. She had gained new friends. She had discovered her grandmother. She was still alive in spite of a myriad of attempts to crush her. As she tried to quiet her emotions, she felt a subtle, gentle soothing from the Medium.

“Walk with me,” Sabine said kindly, hooking arms together. “There is one more thing you can give. Perhaps something we neglected to consider. For such an occasion as this, we should hold vigil. Giving up sleep will help us be more sensitive to the Medium’s will, and it will communicate the urgency of our need for direction. I will hold it with you, beginning tonight, and then tomorrow, and then however long it takes.”

Maia stared at her pleadingly. “But my father is coming.”

“I know,” Sabine said, radiating an inner calm that Maia marveled at.

They walked the grounds together all night, and when morning came, they stood and stared across the moors wreathed in fluffy mists. A vigil was about more than giving up sleep. It was a demonstration of willingness to heed the Medium’s direction, a sacrifice of comfort and rest to request aid for a specific need. Normally it was held alone, but Maia and her grandmother had roamed the grounds from one end to the other, visiting the Cider Orchard, the duck pond, and the laundry. At one point they encountered Argus and Jon Tayt, who had tracked their footprints and complained loudly of being led on a merry chase through the grounds.

Maia was exhausted in the morning, but she was not as depressed in spirits as she had been at nightfall. She still did not have a clear reason why the Medium had forbidden her entrance to the abbey. Sabine had counseled her to not assume, but to use the time and the quiet to ponder and reflect and open herself even wider to knowledge and wisdom from Idumea.

“The sun has come,” Sabine said, patting her arm. “I must prepare for the day. I will change before we meet for breakfast in the Aldermaston’s kitchen.”

Maia gave her a final hug. “I wish to see my mother’s garden and watch the flowers open.”

Sabine smiled and walked with her to the garden. “I am so thankful your mother left this piece of herself for you. Till breakfast, dear one.”

The Leering responded obediently to her thoughts, and Maia sealed the portal shut behind her. The interior was full of shadows, for the sun had not fully risen yet. Maia was a little chilled, but it was a lovely spring morning, and the flower beds gave off delicately sweet aromas.

“You startled me.”

Maia flinched and whirled around to see Collier emerge from behind a tree. He looked haggard and wary, and was rubbing his eyes. He traced a gloved hand along the edge of a branch. “I normally hear the gardener’s clacking cart from a way off first.”

“Have you been in here all night?” Maia asked, her heart pounding a ragged rhythm.

“I could not sleep,” he answered evasively. “I have been mulling over secrets and trying to make sense of them.”

“Have you had any success?”

He shook his head. “Only failure. But I am persistent. It would amaze you how patient I can be,” he said meaningfully.

The words caused a shudder through Maia. “Corriveaux said something like that to me.”

“No doubt he has read my ancestor’s tome,” Collier said flippantly. “Well now . . . this is an unusual schedule for you, Maia. You normally do not visit the gardens until
after
some of the lessons. Did you have trouble sleeping as well?”

Maia nodded uncomfortably, looking down at her wet slippers. “I am sorry I startled you, but this garden
is
mine.”

“Are you forbidding—?”

“No,” Maia interrupted, shaking her head. “I was apologizing. You have come here since our last meeting.”

Collier admitted ruefully, “Until the gardener arrives, of course. It is quiet. Out of sight. My mother had a garden like this,” he said, gazing up at the vine-strewn wall. He was closer to her now, approaching slowly and warily, like a cat. “I received your letter of apology,” he said. “I have been pondering how to best answer it.” He scratched the stubble at his throat.