The Ciphers of Muirwood (6 page)

Suzenne looked at her sharply, as if Maia had read her mind.

“Is that it?” Maia asked softly. “Do you worry that my disgrace will impact you?”

Suzenne’s eyes widened with surprise and she looked miserable.

“Do you think I judge you for feeling that way?” Maia asked sympathetically. “I do not. What you have studied and learned about court propriety and etiquette has prepared you to marry an earl someday or serve a great lady. I hope my presence here will largely go unnoticed for now and not hurt your future. Here at Muirwood, we are equals—just two girls who wish to learn and then pass the maston test. I have done too many wrongs myself to ever judge someone else for theirs.” She stifled a yawn. “It is early still, but I am tired from the day. Are you?”

Suzenne nodded. “May I ask you something first?”

“Always. What is it?”

“Well, I noticed during languages today that you are fluent in Dahomeyjan. Would it be acceptable to you if we . . . if we practiced a bit each day? I would like to improve in that language. Would you mind?”

“Not at all,” Maia replied, switching effortlessly to the other tongue.

“You are not . . . what I . . . expected,” Suzenne said, tripping over her words again. A little flush rose to her cheeks.

“I hope we can become friends,” Maia said, patting her hand.

As Suzenne started eating her cobbler, Maia walked over to the ovens and found a clean bowl and served another helping. Grabbing a spoon, she brought the bowl to the barrel where the quiet Thewliss was still sitting.

“Have you had any cobbler yet, Master Thewliss?” Maia asked gently, offering him the bowl.

He looked startled, his blue eyes blinking rapidly as she stood over him.

“No . . . not yet . . . no, my lady.”

“Call me Maia,” she said, offering him the bowl. “Tomorrow, if the weather is pleasant, can you meet me at the Queen’s Garden after the studies are over? I would like you to teach me the different plants and which were my mother’s favorites.”

Thewliss turned beet red under his snowy hair and mustache and nodded vigorously without being able to utter a reply.

“Thank you, Thewliss,” she said, patting his shoulder. “I will see you tomorrow.”

CHAPTER SIX

Celia Lavender

S
everal days later, a thick mist shrouded the grounds of the abbey. It brought with it the smell of the Bearden Muir, an odd pungent aroma that fascinated Maia and made her consider seeking out Jon Tayt to find out what he had learned about the area. She had seen him several times in passing and knew where his lodge was. She knelt by the washing trough of the laundry with Celia, one of the few Ciphers who was also a wretched. The trough water was warm, and the suds tickled her fingers as she scrubbed the garment against the ripples of stone.

“Does Suzenne know you are helping me wash her clothes?” Celia asked, peering up from her veil of flaxen hair. She was examining a small stain on a chemise, squinting at it and then using her knuckles to rub the fabric.

“Of course not,” Maia said, smiling. “Please do not tell her. If I could do it without
you
knowing, I would.”

“When you told me you wanted to help, I thought it was a sign of mock humility or something. I did not think you actually
knew
how to wash clothes.”

Maia pulled up the wet garment and twisted it hard, wringing out the moisture. “I spent the better part of two years at Lady Shilton’s manor in Comoros. Do you know who she is?”

“I have not heard the name,” said Celia apologetically.

“She is Lady Deorwynn’s mother. I was a servant in her household. Lower than a servant, actually. I did many chores there.”

“Even though you are the king’s daughter?”

“Even so,” Maia said. “The difference now is I am choosing to help. Before, I did not have a choice. There is dignity in working hard. It helps me think. As much as I like poring over the tomes, I also want to
do
something.”

“Like what, Maia? Besides washing clothes, that is.”

“Washing clothes is something tangible I can do to serve Suzenne. She has given up so much for me, willingly or not. But there are other things I wish to do . . . so many things. That hill over there, for example,” Maia said, straightening and pointing. “There is a tower or something on the crest. I want to see it.”

“That is the Tor,” Celia said. “It is not a short walk to get there, but the vista is beautiful.”

“The Tor,” Maia said. She had heard the name before, but she knew not where. “But what was built on it?”

“A tower. When the ships returned from Assinica, a tower was built to honor two Aldermastons who died on that hill. There is a walkway that goes up the side of the Tor . . . a path with paving stones. When folk visit for Whitsunday, it is a popular place to stroll and climb. There are watchers on the tower, though. Watchers for the Aldermaston who look for approaching ships or soldiers.”

“I wondered what it was,” Maia said, dunking the dress again and scrubbing. “Can you make the water warmer, Celia?” she asked.

The wretched flushed. “I am not as Gifted as you with the Medium.”

“Try.”

Celia paused in her work. She set the chemise in the basket and turned to the Leering at the head of the trough. Clasping her hands and bowing her head, she shut her eyes. The eyes of the Leering slowly started to glow. The girl’s cheek muscles bunched up, and her forehead wrinkled with intense concentration, then little gurgles of water started to drip from the Leering. The trickle increased slowly, beginning to churn the water still in the trough. A haze of steam began to rise up from inside. Maia waited, silently, watching as the girl struggled to tame the Leering. It must have felt strange for Celia to use her talent here. Her studies with the Ciphers were kept secret, so she could not practice in front of the other lavenders.

Finally Celia opened her eyes, looking at Maia with chagrin. “You would have done it much faster.”

Maia shook her head. “Well done, Celia. Why do you close your eyes?”

“Habit, I suppose. We are not allowed to see the maston sign when a Gifting happens, so I have always felt that when I call the Medium . . . I should be . . . I suppose . . . reverent is the right word.” She started washing another one of Suzenne’s garments. “Do you think I should not?”

“If it works for you that way, why change? The Medium works with all of us differently.”

Celia sighed. “Sometimes I am not even sure I understand what the Medium is. The Aldermaston’s wife says that you can feel it in your head and in your heart. When I use it, I do feel a little . . .
tingling
inside my breast. But I have not heard any voices in my head. I wish I knew for certain what it felt like for the Medium to talk to me. It is confusing.”

Maia smiled and chuckled to herself. “You know, the Aldermaston has been tutoring me in the evenings,” she said. “These last few days have been a feast of learning for me. Maybe this will help you understand. He explained that light and dark cannot exist at the same time. You can be in a dark room but once you light a candle, the darkness is chased away.” She stopped scrubbing the clothes and set down the work. She looked at Celia seriously. “The Medium is
everywhere
here in Muirwood. I sense it not only in the Leering right there, but in the trees of the Cider Orchard. I sense it in the gardens and trails. I sense it in the bread that Collett bakes. In the birdsong that comes each morning. The Medium is all around us, Celia. It is even right here,” she said, clutching the damp cloth.

“In the laundry?” Celia asked hesitantly.

“Yes, the Medium is in the laundry. It is in the work that we are doing. We are serving someone else. We are washing another’s clothes. And the Medium is
here
, right now. With us.” Maia’s heart burned inside her with the passion of new certainty. “You are uncertain about it because you have lived without darkness. You were abandoned here as a baby and have spent your entire life within the Medium’s glow.” She shook her head. “It was not until I came to Muirwood that I realized such a place existed. I have visited other abbeys, to be sure. But never for long, and I have never lived in one. I realize now that I felt the Medium as a young child, back before my mother began to lose her babes. I vaguely remember it. For most of my life, I have been living in a box, nailed shut, and thrown into a well.” Maia stared down at her hands. “Only now do I see what light truly is. You will understand it yourself once you leave Muirwood. You will long for this feeling . . . this place.”

Celia stared at her with great interest, her eyes wiser than her years. “Then I shall never leave,” she said, folding the wet clothing. “I always wanted to visit Comoros. Not anymore.”

“I only wish,” Maia said passionately, “that the rest of the kingdom could understand what we have here. So many live in squalor and suffering. The abbeys are a refuge from that state of desperation. But can there not be a way to bring the peace of the Medium back into the cities and towns?” She scratched her arm. “To spread the light so that others may enjoy it?”

Maia wrestled with her feelings. She treasured the time she had spent studying with the Aldermaston and his wife and her own grandmother. Had she been sent as a learner to Muirwood, she would have been given these lessons in dribs and drabs, but they were trying to prepare her for the maston test as quickly as possible. Her grandmother had explained that she was protected from the Myriad Ones while inside the grounds. They could no longer hunt her. But if she were to leave, she knew she would hear their whispers again and feel the tendrils of their thoughts beckoning her to embrace the ways of the hetaera. Her best chance for safety was to pass the maston test and receive a chaen. Wearing the chaen would allow her to bring part of the Muirwood with her to the outside world. How she longed for that safety. Never again did she ever want to be under the sway of such malevolent beings. The Medium would protect her if she honored her oaths.

The two worked quietly again, comfortable in silence as they finished off the load. Maia saw a young man walking in the misty field of purple mint, his hands tousling the stems and flowers as he slowly walked through them. He was the boy she had noticed in her first day of learner classes—the one who never spoke and always stood so aloof from the rest. He was tall and well-built, with broad shoulders and unruly dark hair with tawny streaks of gold in it.

“Who is that, Celia?” Maia asked, nodding to the young man.

She looked over her shoulder. “Oh, that is Dodd.”

“Dodd?” Maia asked, confused. “Is he a learner?”

“I am sorry, I keep forgetting you are new. I have trouble pronouncing his full name. Dodleah Price. Everyone calls him Dodd.”

“Oh,” Maia said, nodding. “I have heard of him. He has many brothers?”

“Yes, he is the youngest of the brood. His Family is from the north, as you know, and all of his brothers studied at Billerbeck Abbey. He came to Muirwood for some reason instead. As the son of an earl, he was quite popular his first few years here. But since his father was banished to Pent Tower, the Price Family is all in disgrace. The chancellor sent soldiers to arrest him, but he passed the maston test and sought sanctuary here. He cannot leave the grounds or he will be arrested by the sheriff.”

Maia nodded. “I am sorry for him. His father was disinherited and the earldom of Forshee was given to another man who is my father’s right hand these days. I loathe the man.”

Celia finished the cleaning and helped Maia stack the folded clothes back inside the basket. “I am sorry for Dodd,” she said. “He and Suzenne were going to marry.”

Maia stared at her in surprise. “Truly?”

“Yes, or so everyone said. They arrived the same year as learners. There was much bantering between them for the first two years. He would give some offense to win her attention, but she would rebuff and deliberately ignore him. When they were old enough to dance around the maypole, he shocked everyone by asking her, though she had widely declared she would refuse him. She did not, and the two danced and became close after that. There was even talk about her Family visiting
his
Family in Forshee Hundred.”

Celia lifted the basket and rested it against her hip. “When his Family met their disgrace, things
changed
between them. She stopped walking with him after studies. He passed the maston test, you see, so though he still takes classes, he is not really a learner anymore. He did not know she was a Cipher. It has been painful to watch. He roams the grounds, restless.”

“Of course he is restless,” Maia said, her heart aching for the young man. He had banished himself to Muirwood. His father and brothers were in Pent Tower, and their lives would be in mortal danger if they did not sign the Act of Submission. What a torture his life had probably become, and if what Celia said was true and Suzenne truly had abandoned him, his pain had to be all the more poignant. That rankled Maia to hear. She had betrayed Collier because the Medium had not provided a way to bring him with her. Every day she spent free reminded her of his confinement.

They left the shelter of the laundry and started back toward the manor house where the washing would be hung to dry. The mist kissed Maia’s face as they walked. Sometimes the fog lasted the entire day, but she could make out some brave wisps of blue sky trying to peek through before the sun set.

“He is following us,” Celia said, casting a glance over her shoulder.

“He is,” Maia said, observing Dodd’s stride increase. He wore a dark leather jerkin that covered a cream-colored padded shirt, belted at the waist with a thick, silver-studded leather belt. His hair was dark and unruly, his chin and nose a little pointed. It was a handsome face, but his mournful countenance sullied it.

He caught them without much difficulty and seemed as if he were about to pass them when he seized the basket from Celia’s arms instead, hoisting it onto one shoulder with a flexing arm.

“Allow me,” he said gallantly, his brooding expression softened by a kind smile. “You walk to the Aldermaston’s manor?”

Celia was completely flustered. “Well . . . for certain . . . I see . . .”

“Yes, that is our destination,” Maia said, returning his smile. “Thank you.”

He walked for several steps without saying anything further, but he did interrupt the silence eventually. “You are Lady Maia.”

“I am,” Maia replied. “You are Dodleah Price.”

“Call me Dodd,” he said in an offhand manner. “I have often seen you wander the grounds, but I had then failed to summon the courage to speak with you.”

Maia felt a little startled. She glanced at Celia, who had flushed a shade of pink.

“Is that so? Why should you fear to speak to me? We are cousins to degree, after all.”

“Notwithstanding, I was afraid you would think it an impertinence,” he answered. “Since we have not been introduced. You knew my father, but we have never met.”

“There is no need to be so formal, Dodd.” She looked him in the eyes so he could read her earnestness. “Do you wish to ask me something? I will not take offense.”

He smiled, looking relieved. “Thank you. That does lessen my anxiety. I am normally quite forthright and I like to say what I feel.” He frowned, as if swallowing something quite bitter. “A habit of my Family, I fear. Do you think your father will execute my Family if they do not sign the act?”