The Ciphers of Muirwood (5 page)

“Then there is no risk that you are with child. I say this not to upset you, Maia. But even though your marriage did not begin under the maston rites, it does not mean that it
cannot
someday. You will pass the maston test yourself. If he chooses to take it again, then you can be united under irrevocare sigil as your maston oaths encourage.” She put her arm around Maia’s back, hugging her. “Someday you will want to have children. They are truly a blessing from Idumea. You will have to be very careful, Maia. Very guarded with your expressions of intimacy. Your kiss would be fatal to your husband or even your children. I am sure this will cause you grief and hardship throughout your life, but there is no reason for you not to experience the joys of having a family.”

Maia’s heart ached at her grandmother’s words. Her regrets stirred within her like a hive of bees, ready to sting, and she tried to calm her feelings. She was grateful she did not have to bear the secret all alone.

“What if my husband decides to divorce me?” Maia asked, her voice thick.

“Do you think that he might? From what you have said, it sounds like he is ambitious and he married you for your station. Through you, he claims legitimate right to Comoros. I do not think he will abandon that because he feels you betrayed him.”

Maia nodded. “You are right. I wish . . . Grandmother, I
wish
we could have brought him with us!”

“I have been mulling on that myself,” she replied. “It was not the Medium’s will. I felt certain at the time. But it weighs heavily on me.”

“It burdens my heart,” Maia said miserably. “He was a hostage for
years in Paeiz after his father lost a war there and he was ransomed at great cost. I could tell the imprisonment changed him. It made him who he is today, made him reluctant to learn the maston ways.”
She winced sorrowfully. Her heart was tangled with conflicting feel
ings—sympathy, frustration, dread. “What will he think of me now?”

“Shhh,” Sabine said soothingly. “You have enough worries of your own without taking on his. I do not think the Dochte Mandar will hold him ransom for long. They know he has the coin to pay them. It was money he was going to spend invading Comoros. Now the Naestors will use it to invade Assinica.” Her expression was bitter as she said this last part.

“Yes, but how resentful will he be?” Maia said. “This is a heavy burden.” She remembered something Collier had told her, how when he was imprisoned in Paeiz he had hoped her father would pay his ransom in honor of the plight troth that had existed between him and Maia. “I wish
I
could help him,” she whispered miserably. “But I have nothing.”

All those who offer an opinion on any doubtful point should first clear their minds of every sentiment of dislike, friendship, anger, or pity.

—Richard Syon, Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey

CHAPTER FIVE

The Aldermaston’s Kitchen

A
warm light shone from the kitchen windows as Maia and Sabine approached. A figure detached from the shadows around the building, and Maia immediately recognized Suzenne wringing her hands and looking flustered.

“Oh, there you are,” Suzenne said with a look of relief. “I am so sorry I lost track of you after studies.” She looked at Maia’s companion, and her expression twisted with regret. “Forgive me, High Seer, I did not recognize you. I am very sorry I abandoned your—”

“Do not trouble yourself,” Sabine interrupted graciously. “I was showing her part of the grounds. Have you had supper yet?”

“No,” Suzenne replied, still wringing her hands. “I remembered on my way to the learner kitchen that I was supposed to start coming here for my meals. I checked inside and Collett said she had not seen you yet.”

Maia wondered why Suzenne looked so disturbed, but she smiled and said nothing about the friends who had beckoned the other girl to join them. Perhaps she was feeling guilty about her choice. Together they opened the door to the kitchen, and a delicious spicy smell wafted out.

As Maia gazed inside the opening, she was struck by how immaculate it was. This was not a kitchen full of flour dust and spilled seeds. The floor was swept, the trestle tables were perfectly aligned, and every pan, ladle, and crockery was hanging from a measured peg or sturdy shelf. The kitchen had a vast aroma of wonderful smells—yeasty bread, cinnamon, cloves, salted stew. The head cook, Collett, was an older woman who wore a clean apron and her hair pulled back in a tight bun. She stood when they arrived, and her expression was quite sour and grim. She gripped a wooden spoon like a sword hilt.

“Well, your supper is half cold now, I suspect,” she said primly in a slightly raspy voice. “I serve meals at sunup and sundown. It pleases the Medium when we are on
time
.”

“I beg your pardon,” Sabine said, smiling at the other woman with obvious affection. “I made us late and bear the blame. What is that delicious smell, Collett?”

She fidgeted a bit, trying not to look pleased. “A cobbler for the Aldermaston and one for us. They are nearly done.”

“It smells divine. I miss your cobbler, Collett. What fruit did you use?”

“I had some moldering apples in the cold storage,” Collett said with a sniff. “Not much good for anything else.”

“Even better,” crooned Sabine. “This is my granddaughter, Maia,” she said, taking the younger woman’s arm. “And her companion, Suzenne Clarencieux.”

“I know Lady Suzenne, of course,” Collett said with a dignified air. “Welcome to the Aldermaston’s kitchen, Lady Maia.”

Maia gazed around, remembering the stories she had heard of how her ancestor, Lia Demont, had been raised in this very kitchen. There were large ovens in the corners and a high sloped ceiling that ended in a cupola, supported by struts. The heat from the fires hung warmly in the air, and the wonderful smells from the kitchen entranced her. Two scullery girls, probably the same age—around eight or nine—sat eating on a bench in the corner of the room. They were talking in very low voices and pointing at the new arrivals with wonder.

A sturdy loft had been erected on one side, and Maia could see it was packed with barrels and sacks. Every article in the room had been arranged just so, all a declaration of Collett’s keen sense of organization and discipline. She was taken aback when she spied an older gentleman with snowy white hair, and a mustache to match, sitting on a barrel by the ovens. He was eating a bowl of soup, his leather cap resting on his knee, but he was so quiet she had not noticed him.

“Well, I will not allow you to stand idle and unfed,” Collett announced firmly. “There are bowls and spoons over in that cabinet as you see them. I do not waste food, so I did not serve you yet.” She waved a hand at a large pot. “I need to tend to the cobbler.”

Maia fetched the dishes and ladled herself a generous helping of the savory stew. She then took her bowl and walked over to the two empty chairs near the bench where the younger girls sat. “May I sit with you?”

One of the girls had light hair with reddish streaks, braided into a crown, and she nodded vigorously, her gray eyes bright with interest. “Yes. Are you a wretched like me? You serve the king’s daughter?” she asked, nodding her head toward Suzenne, who was following with her own bowl. Suzenne’s face went scarlet with shame.

“I am the king’s daughter,” Maia said, smiling at the mistake. She mussed up the girl’s silky hair, loosening some of it from the braid. “And yes, I do feel a little like a wretched sometimes.”

“You should not have said that, Aloia,” said the little girl’s companion, a girl with dark hair and blue eyes and rosebud lips. “You are always saying silly things.”

“Is she now?” Maia asked, then took her first bite of stew. It was a tantalizing blend of onion, carrots, potato, and venison. The broth was creamy and salty. It was delicious.

“She is always saying too much,” said the dark-haired girl. “She never stops talking.”

“That is unfair,” the girl said, pouting. “You like to talk as much as I do.”

“What are your names?” Maia asked, looking from one girl to the other. Suzenne settled on a chair next to her, blinking with surprise that Maia was speaking to the younger girls. Sabine and Collet spoke in low tones about one of the cook’s recipes.

“I am Davinia,” said the dark-haired waif, smoothing her skirt. “She calls me Davi.”

“I am Aloia,” said the braided girl. “And I am not stupid.”

“Of course you are not,” Maia said, reaching out and pinching her nose softly. “Have you always lived in the kitchen?” she asked.

“Always,” said Davi. “Since we were left behind. It does not happen so often now. There are only five wretcheds in the entire abbey.”

“Most of the helpers are children from the village,” added Aloia, trying to get her share of the attention. “You are really the princess, though? Everyone says that Lady Murer is the princess, but we know the truth at Muirwood.”

“Do not talk of such things!” Davi complained.

“Why not? She is talking to us! So you are the princess? Truly?”

Maia swirled her stew around and took another bite. “This is wonderful. Collett is a splendid cook.” She poked the stew a bit. “Yes, Aloia. I
am
the Princess of Comoros.”

Both girls tittered with eagerness. “But the king has tried to make you deny it,” Davi said, lowering her voice conspiratorially.

“In every way he can, yes,” she answered. “He took away my jewels and my gowns. He took away my servants and all my coin. He signed a law giving everything I owned to my stepsister. He can do that—he is the king.” Talking about him made her heart ache; she knew his hold on the throne was a result of his riches and power, not his subjects’ goodwill. Although he did not deserve the title, she did not feel it was her duty or the Medium’s will to overthrow him.

“But,” she added, wagging her spoon at them, “it is not jewels or dresses that make a princess. And laws cannot change that my mother was a queen and my father is a king. Even if no one else believed it, I would still be a princess.” She fished a nugget of venison from the stew and ate it with relish. Glancing over at Suzenne, Maia realized the other girl was watching her rather than eating.

Maia smiled at her, trying to set her at ease.

Suzenne flushed and raised her spoon to her mouth.

“Who is the man sitting by the ovens?” Maia whispered, leaning toward the girls. “Why is
he
in the kitchen?”

“That is Thewliss,” Aloia said, matching her conspiratorial tone. “He is Collett’s husband. Shhh! He even sleeps here at night.”

“Scandalous,” Maia said, grinning. “They do not sleep in the manor house?”

“Oh no,” Davi said. “That is their bed underneath the loft. You see it, over there.”

“I see it,” Maia said. “So they live here with you?”

“Oh yes,” Aloia said with a bubbly voice. “We are too young to be left all alone here.”

“I wish they would leave us alone here,” Davi complained.

Maia finished her stew as the girls continued with their chatter.

Aloia nodded seriously. “Do not talk to Thewliss. He is very shy. He never talks to anyone.”

“He is the gardener. He keeps the grounds,” Davi added.

“He is planting winter bulbs right now. In the spring—”

“They will blossom and bloom! He is a wonderful gardener. He talks to the plants more than he talks to us.”

“I think they can hear him. Some of them answer him.”

“I saw him talking to the birds once!”

“You did not!”

Collett’s voice rose over the conversation. “Girls, quit your prattling! You have been chattering away all day long! Hold your tongue for half a moment and take the cobbler to the manor house for the Aldermaston.”

The girls sprang from the bench and promptly obeyed, taking their stew bowls for cleaning, and quickly arranged the dessert to bring to the Aldermaston. Before they scurried off into the night, they brought small, still-steaming dishes of cobbler to Suzenne and Maia.

Maia took a bite from her bowl and murmured with delight. There was a treacle, oat, and cinnamon topping and the apples were soft and mashed at the bottom.

“This is one of the desserts she sells at Whitsunday?” Maia asked.

“Yes,” Suzenne replied meekly, taking a taste herself. “She believes in carrying on the traditions of old.” Her face darkened a bit. “I am sorry for leaving you earlier,” she apologized. “I should not have. We are companions now.”

Maia reached over and patted Suzenne’s arm. “You have my permission,” she said. “I do not mean to take you away from your friends. Besides, I was with my grandmother, so I was not alone.”

Suzenne stared at her bowl, as if she were not enjoying it.

“What is wrong?” Maia asked softly, keeping her voice low so that the others would not hear. Sabine and Collett were talking over tea and keeping their conversation quiet as well.

“I appreciate your permission,” Suzenne said, not looking at her. “But I feel I disappointed the Medium today. I offended it. I am to take the maston test soon.” She bit her lip. “To be truthful, I am a bit nervous about it. It would grieve me if I failed because I did not show you proper respect.”

Maia smoothed some hair behind her ear. “You should be the last person at the abbey to fear failing the test. You have studied here for many years. I have already seen that you are strong with the Medium.”

Suzenne looked up at her, then glanced back down. “Not as strong as you.”

Maia sighed. She reached over and squeezed the other girl’s hand. “I understand a little of how you feel, Suzenne. I am also afraid to take the maston test. Because of . . .
what
I am. Will the Medium reject me because of it? My heart tells me it will not. But there are those little crumbs of fear that linger in the pan.” She picked a little crumb out of her treacle to emphasize the point. “We can only do our best to clean our inner vessels. To make ourselves worthy to receive the Medium’s will and power. My grandmother believes I am the one who must open the Apse Veil to allow the dead to return to Idumea and to save the people of Assinica. No one in her generation has been strong enough to do so. Even my mother failed.” She sighed again. “I feel great pressure to succeed.”

Suzenne looked up at her, her expression softening with sympathy. “That is a heavy burden.”

“Well, if you face your fears, then I will face mine. We will take the test together.”

Suzenne smiled, a very small one, but it was a start. “Very well.” She fell silent again, unsure of herself. “What should I call you?” she asked with a hint of nervousness. “My training says that I should always refer to you as
my lady
. Or Lady Maia.”

“Just Maia,” she replied, taking another bite of the wonderful cobbler. It melted on her tongue, the apples still hot enough to burn a little.

“It would not be . . . proper,” Suzenne said haltingly.

“What about my situation strikes you as overly proper?” Maia said with a laugh. “I have been banished from my father’s court. I possess nothing save two gowns and my new tome. I have blisters on my feet from walking from Dahomey to Hautland in the company of a hunter, his dog, and the kishion my father hired to murder me in case I was captured.” Memories swirled inside her mind, thick with emotions. “I have endured storms, avalanches, hunger, a thousand indignities, and the pain of loss.” Maia stared hard in Suzenne’s eyes. “I do not care what Maeg or anyone else thinks of me. I came to Muirwood to become a maston and to fulfill the covenant Lia made when she left these shores. From what I understand, she lived simply and always looked for the good in everyone and everything. So please do not feel guilty for how I am treated. You did not ask for this, Suzenne. If you wish to see your friends, by all means, please do.”

Suzenne was very quiet, staring down at her hands as Maia spoke. She set aside her bowl and laced her fingers together. “I cannot begin to understand the hardships you have faced.”

Maia shook her head. “There was something in a tome I once read. What is the good of dragging up sufferings that are over, of being unhappy now just because you were then? I am grateful to have you as a companion, Suzenne. Do not worry about me. I have been alone for quite some time. You are preparing to leave the abbey and must find a suitable situation for yourself. I am certain my arrival has
diminished
your expectations.”