by Jeff Wheeler
“I will not keep you,” he said, biting his lip and wiping rain from his eyes, and then started back towards the cloister.
Lia swung open the kitchen door and entered. There was Pasqua, rubbing her shoulder with obvious pain and the Aldermaston leaning over her, speaking in low tones. Siara Healer was there was well, mixing up some powder in a pestle. Sowe and Brynn were busy making supper and both glanced over at her and stopped, gawking at her strange appearance. There was Edmon, lounging on a barrel, and he also rose when she entered.
“Lia, what happened to you?” Edmon asked, his face contorting with alarm.
The Aldermaston turned, his brow also creased with physical pain and his eyebrows flexed with concern. He said nothing, only waited for her to speak, to share the news that would change the Abbeys situation yet again.
“Dahomeyjan soldiers,” Lia said, coming near him and keeping her voice low. “The Queen Dowager left some of her knights in the woods. They have rallied a remnant of the king’s army and it surrounds the grounds, hidden. I believe they will use Scarseth to set the Leerings afire before they attack us. I encountered three of them, just past the Cider Orchard and they attacked me. I defended myself, but I may have killed one. They said the kishion is coming.”
She stopped, trying to catch her breath and stared at the Aldermaston.
“We must take Ellowyn away from here!” Edmon said, closing the gap. “We can have horses saddled and be on our way at once!”
The Aldermaston shook his head. “That would play into their hands and forfeit your life unnecessarily. You are a brave lad, Edmon, but allow me to do the thinking.” He paused deliberately, his eyes veiled, masking the pain he suffered. “For someone who does not believe in the Medium’s power, the Queen Dowager is taking some precautions to ensure her success. That is in our favor. She underestimates us and does not appreciate the Medium’s guidance. All afternoon, I have felt a burden. Your news confirms it. They will try and abduct the girl before the Queen Dowager returns. If they have her in possession, it will strengthen their position. She must be safeguarded. Edmon – hurry to the cloister and summon her and her companion to my manor. You and the Earl of Forshee will guard her during the day. Lia will guard her at night. She must be under watch constantly. I feel it heavily upon me, as certain as I know the moon will rise even though we will not see it through the clouds. Lia, you are her primary guardian. Stay near her constantly.”
Lia frowned. “I can take her away tonight. Even without horses. If we go into the Bearden Muir, they will have difficulty following us.”
“She is not ready nor is it the right time. In this deadly dance we play with Pareigis, we must watch our pace and not stumble over our feet. Our collective wisdom is greater than all the cunning of the Queen Dowager and the Earl of Dieyre. Go, Lia. Go, Edmon. Safeguard her to my manor. The future of the realm depends on keeping Ellowyn Demont safe.”
* * *
Darkness settled over Muirwood with a sullen whisper. Rain-choked leaves burdened the limbs of the mighty oaks surrounding the Abbey. Inside the manor house, Marciana stood at the gap in the doorway of her resting chamber, guarding the scene. “Thank you, Aldermaston. I bid you good night. Tell my brother I will explain everything. He will understand. Thank you, again.” Slowly, she shut the huge oak door and settled the crossbar into place.
She turned and looked at Lia gravely. It was the first time they could speak privately since her time in the orchard with Colvin. “You dear creature,” she said simply. She sighed and shook her mane of hair. “My first reaction and admission must be honesty. I was surprised when Colvin revealed the nature of your conversation. But how can I blame you, when I esteem him so highly myself? We will speak more on this matter in due course. But first Lia, we must attend to you. A bath, I think, would do your spirits some good.”
Lia stared at her in amazement. “You are not angry with me?”
A puckish smile came with the reply. “I am sorry for you. But no, I am not angry. Ellowyn, would you mind if I attended to Lia first tonight?”
The shy girl smiled. “I would like to help. I can…I can wash her clothes after she’s done with the bathwater. It is late, after all, and we should let the lavenders sleep.”
“That is kind of you both,” Lia said, feeling sore and discouraged. The thought of a bath did sound pleasant. “But do not wait on me. I can bathe myself and clean my own gear.”
Marciana smiled. “Of course you are able to, Lia. But you are to be our guardian tonight and every night. You give us service in doing so. Please…let us offer this small service in return for yours. It will go faster with help. You let Pasqua and Sowe help you. Why not us?”
“Because you are both nobles.”
Marciana shook her head. “It would be a privilege, Lia. Please.”
Lia nodded in awkward agreement and went to the wooden tub in the far corner. The changing screen was folded open and Lia felt the gentle murmur of the Medium as the water Leering set into the wall near the tub flared to life and water began churning into the basin. Marciana concentrated harder and a gentle haze of steam followed shortly after. She glanced back at Lia and winked at her. “Is this warm enough?”
Lia had seldom visited the guest wing of the manor house, it being on the opposite side from the kitchen, closest to the main gates of the Abbey grounds. Most of the rooms had high windows set into the thick stone walls, but this room had none. The only way in or out lay through the sturdy oak door. The furnishings were elaborate. A single stuffed mattress, which the two ladies shared, lay against the northern wall, with canopied bedposts made of damask and velvet with golden tassels. Several couches, changing screens, tables and cushions, and a garderobe also complemented the design. Tapestries adorned the walls and rush-matting that was changed daily was green and fragrant. She ran her fingers through the stream of water and nodded.
Marciana treated the bath with scented oil and soap, making it frothy and inviting. She seemed familiar with the vials and stone basins and Lia figured she did not hire a servant to bathe herself as many nobles did.
“Let me help you out of those soiled clothes,” Marciana said. Lia unbuckled her leather bracers and girdle, which were filthy and damp. She suddenly remembered that she had not brought with her a clean gown. “What is it?”
“I have a spare dress is back in the kitchen,” she said softly. “I can send Astrid…”
Marciana touched her arm. “I have something you can wear. Do not worry. Here, hang your garments behind the screen.”
Lia slipped into the warm water and shivered. The tub was spacious, much more so than the one in the kitchen where she had bathed all her life. Having a water Leering next to it was ideal, for water did not need to be toted in buckets from the ovens. There was a fireplace and chimney with a fire Leering for warming water. But Marciana’s trick, learned from Colvin through Lia, had saved much time in filling it. With a soft sponge, she washed her arms and fingers while Marciana cleansed her hair with a dish of water just as Sowe had always done. The water turned a murky brown.
“You have lovely hair, Lia,” Marciana said and she squeezed the clumps of her tresses and wrung them out. With a sculpted wooden comb, she began untangling them.
“It can only be subdued for a while, never tamed,” Lia said wistfully. “It is not straight and beautiful, like yours and Sowe’s.”
“It is beautiful in its own right. It is darker than mine but not as dark as Sowe’s, and it has some lovely hints of copper amidst the crinkles. Here and here.” She knelt by the edge of the bath, her flowing sleeves a little damp but pushed up past the elbows. Lia was not sure how much time had passed, but she felt luxuriant and clean, as she had not felt for months.
“The water is cold. Can I dry by the fire now?” Lia asked.
“First something to wear,” Marciana said and rose. She went to one of her chests and withdrew a pale chemise with an embroidered hem. Lia had never owned a chemise before and as she slipped it on, it fel
t warm and soft against her skin, like a warm breath. It was loose at the shoulders, so Marciana helped tighten the lacings in the front. The sleeves fit her well but she was taller than the other girl so it did not reach down to her ankles.
“By the fire then?” Marciana joined her, sitting at the mouth of the fireplace, staring into the lapping flames and the Leering’s eyes. The scent of the soap against Lia’s wrist, the way her hair smelled, even the chemise which had been packed with purple mint to keep away moths. For a moment, she wondered what it would be like to be a noble like the other two were. To have more than a spare dress. The chemise was made of the softest material she had ever worn.
Silently, Ellowyn gathered up the dirty gear and went to the tub and commenced washing them.
“You are pretty, Lia,” Marciana said. “You will not struggle to find a willing husband when it is your time. But it will not be Colvin.” She shook her head, her expression full of pity as well as sympathy. She stroked Lia’s arm gently. “I need to explain to you why.”
Lia looked into the flames, grateful that Marciana had kept her voice low. She knew that Ellowyn could hear them, but at least the girl had the decency to pretend to ignore them as she scrubbed the leader girdle with soapy water. “He made it clear why I cannot be with him. I am not a simpleton.”
“No, you are not. But in his fit of anger, he did not explain something to you. It is important, Lia. Have you ever heard of the irrevocare sigil?”
Lia turned, her eyebrows raising. “I have not.”
“It is a maston custom. You know so many of them, I was not certain if you had heard of it. The term is an ancient one, a practice that goes back to the First parents. It is a binding sigil, one that has the power to last perpetually. It lasts forever. Only an Aldermaston can invoke them and only within the most important chamber of the Abbey. It has been the custom for generations within the order of the mastons to bind certain things using an irrevocare sigil. Specifically, a marriage between two maston families. When this is done, the power of the Medium flows even stronger with the next generation. That is why maston families tend to intermarry and spurn marriages to those who are not of the order. To the Earl of Dieyre, for example, marriage is a means of growing his already disgusting supply of wealth. But a maston who comes from a long line of marriages bound by the sigil will always seek out another of that station. Always the next generation is more powerful in the Medium because of it.” She squinted at Lia. “Am I making sense to you?”
Lia looked down at her hands. “What you are telling me is that your parents were married this way. Possibly back many generations.”
“Six, actually. There are some maston families who have tomes recording their lineage back to the Flood.” She smiled sadly and touched Lia’s arm. “I know that Colvin fancies you. He admires and respects you. If he had deeper feelings than this, he has done well to tame them and keep them hidden, even from me. But he will marry a girl who is a maston whose parents were married by the sigil. He is concerned about future generations, not just his own feelings. Or yours.”
Lia had never heard of irrevocare sigils before. There was no real reason a wretched should be told about them, but that did not stop it from aching inside her. Being bound to Colvin forever? The thought made her blush.
“It is not my fault that I am a wretched,” Lia murmured softly.
“I know, Lia. That is why it is so pitiable. I just wanted you to know. Colvin behaved poorly this afternoon. He did not expect your reaction. Likely you had a father who was very strong in the Medium who fell in love with a girl who was probably a learner herself. Unable to tame their feelings for each other, you became the result. Not because they did not love you. Not because they did not love each other. But there are so few mastons left, and even fewer who will be patient enough to wait for the sigil to be performed. Colvin is qualified for the sigil because of our parents. He is determined to have it.”
A bitterness twisted deep inside of Lia. “He is nothing if not stubborn.”
Almost as if to answer that thought, a firm knock sounded on the door. She knew it was him. Alarm flashed in Marciana’s eyes, but Lia stood and went to the door. “Who is it?” she demanded, hand firmly on the crossbar.
“I need to speak with my sister.” Cold, stern, implacable.
Colvin.
CHAPTER TWENTY:
Hillel Lavender
Mustering her courage and quelling her self-pity, Lia lifted the crossbar and tugged at the door. The hall was dimly lit and Colvin carried a candelabra, the flame flickering in his eyes as he stared at her. He blinked, seeing her in his sister’s chemise. There was something in his expression, a stumble of some kind and if his defenses were momentarily breached.
“What is it?” Lia asked, her voice cold.
Colvin swallowed. “Dieyre is in my room. Marciana – I want you to hear what he has to say.”
She rose from the fire and advanced, her face skeptical. “What is happening, Colvin?”
“I will explain on the way. He insisted you be there or he would tell me nothing more.”
“What of Ellowyn?” Lia asked warningly.
Colvin nodded to her but looked slightly annoyed. “Under your protection, as the Aldermaston said.”
For a moment, Lia had worried that he would suggest Ellowyn come with them. That they would try and steal away from the Abbey that night with or without her help.
Marciana kissed Lia’s cheek. “I will knock when I return, but you can sleep if you like. The bed is soft.”
Lia grimaced. “I hold vigil this night, remember? I will be awake when you come.” She looked in Colvin’s eyes, saw the mask concealing his feelings again. He dipped his head to her and then started down the hall with his sister, whispering to her about Dieyre. She watched a moment as he left, her heart aching at the yawning chasm separating them.
After settling the crossbar back in place, Lia turned and found Ellowyn still scrubbing the clothes clean, humming a little tune to herself. It was the first time they had been alone together. She had no recollection of ever having had a conversation with the girl. Jealousy was the normal feeling she experienced when she looked at Ellowyn. Watching her hum and scrub, she felt the first pangs of gratitude and even a little fondness for the simple girl.
Lia approached Ellowyn awkwardly, wondering whether she wanted to talk or not. Without lifting her head, she heard Ellowyn’s shy, reserved voice.
“My parents were married by the irrevocare sigil. It was done by two Aldermastons by a plight troth. My father in Pry-Ree. My mother in Dahomey, for she was living in exile. They loved each other a great deal to risk it, do you know why? If one of them had perished before they could consummate it, the other would never be able to marry again. That is true love, I think. My uncle told me so.” She glanced at Lia covertly and her voice went from simple to sardonic. “But Colvin does not love me. Not in any way. He is gentle, thoughtful, and patient. He pats me on the head like a little chick that has just broken free of the shell.” She gave Lia a sidelong look and then sighed.
Lia reached the edge of the tub, saw her shirt hanging by a peg on the changing screen, as well as the girdle. Ellowyn scrubbed thoroughly at one of her bracers. “If I had a fortune, the Earl of Dieyre would wish to marry me. He is so handsome. But I do not have a fortune. Yet. Nor good looks. The Pry-rians want me regardless. Some ancient family speaking a language that would bewilder me so I could produce an heir and restore their former glory.” She scrubbed a little furiously at a particularly muddy spot. “A vessel. That is all that I am to them. Like that water dish to rinse your hair.”
Lia saw Ellowyn in a new way and it startled her a little. “You almost sound resentful of your new life,” she said.
“Resentful? No…I am terrified, Lia. I have felt nothing but sheer terror since I left Sempringfall Abbey. I miss it dreadfully.” She squinted at the dark leather and scratched out a stain with her fingernail. “Imagine being plucked from your home, then shutt
led forth from place to place, Abbey to Abbey. Learn this. Say that. Eat this way. Do not laugh like that. It is not proper. What is taking you so long? We learned that word yesterday, you still have not learned it?” Her face twisted into a scowl. “Never a moment to myself. Never a moment to say what I really feel. Except moments like now.”
“I do not even know you,” Lia hedged.
“I do not care. If I do not talk, I will burst. This is how we would work at my Abbey. Work and whisper amongst ourselves. Talk about the boys and which ones liked us and which ones we scorned. I miss that. I miss it dreadfully. Marciana does not understand me. Colvin does not understand me. But you do. How I am jealous of you and Sowe.” She kept working, her scrubbing motions looking almost desperate. “There, this is looking much better, I think. I would trade these dirty clothes of yours for mine in a moment. I do not belong in their world. The Leerings mock me. Truly, they do. The Medium will not hearken to me, no matter how I plead with it. No matter that my parents were both skilled. I cannot do it because I am terrified. Every day, I worry that someone is going to try and take me. To force me to do something I do not want to do. To marry someone I do not know just to bear their child. And that in my fear, I will let them. I will do whatever I am asked, because I am supposed to. Not because I want to.” She winced, gnawing on her thumb a moment, then put down the bracer and seized the other one. She looked sidelong at Lia. “So…you love him too?”
There was a double-meaning in her words. “You care for him, Ellowyn?” she asked.
The other girl smiled sadly, scrubbing with zest. “How can I not, Lia? He is so different than other men. He never says more than he feels. He is thoughtful and wise for someone so young. He is never rude or conceited. I remember when he and Edmon first arrived at Sempringfall. You should have seen the gaggle of us at the laundry after they rode in. Most of the girls thought Edmon the prettiest boy they had ever seen, but he did not catch my fancy. It was the Earl of Forshee – so stern and poised. A dark beauty. He fears nothing. Absolutely nothing. I fear everything unless he is near me.”
