The Scourge of Muirwood
Page 54
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She smoothed some of the hair from his temple, gave him a nod, and then silently slipped through the stone portal into the hidden passageway.
* * *
The pale blush of dawn crept over the island city of Dochte Abbey. As Lia quietly roamed the street, she was the only being up that early. In many other villages and towns, there were those who started working before daylight. But Dochte was as quiet as ossuaries, row after row of stone houses and shingled roofs. Near the rear of the Abbey grounds on the fifth level still, the Cruciger orb led her to the Abbey stables. There was a sound heard at last, the sound of a rake dragging across muck. The pointers directed her towards it. The paddock was open, though dark inside. There was only the sound of raking and the slop of mud and manure. The smell announced it well in advance.
Lia stuffed the orb away and quietly entered the paddock. The inside was full of shadows. Snorts from horses interrupted the stillness as she entered. A heaving noise sounded and she saw a man hefting a bale of hay and carrying it towards the trough. She recognized his size and features. Leathers and hood, but no weapons.
“Martin Evnissyen,” she said in a firm voice, announcing herself.
He did not break his stride and slumped the bale down in the trough, where a few hungry horses began to feed on it. He briskly brushed muck from his hands and strode towards her.
“By Cheshu, lass, it took you long enough to arrive.” As he entered the shaft of light coming from the dimly-lit dawn, she saw his fingers black and filthy and his tunic stained from his work. He smelled horrible.
“Look at you,” she said, shaking her head. “If Pasqua could…”
Her voice froze in her throat as the light fell on his face and she saw the black tattoos zigzagging around his eyes. There was a frightening aspect in his expression, a darkness and emotion that came from his look.
He grinned at her, a fierce grin. “Look at you, lass. So tall. Aye, but what you are thinking the way you look at me? Do you fear I took the water ritual? How can I smell thus and have taken the water ritual, I ask you. These lines and marks on my face are an illusion, my girl. Ink and a steady hand. But it keeps the Dochte Mandar from looking at me twice. A rag and some soap and they are gone. It is you that do not look the part being here. Any lad with even one eye would take you for a foreigner here.” He glanced around her. “Where is Kieran Ven?”
Lia was relieved and shocked at his banter. He spoke as if nothing had happened between them. As if their separation had only been earlier the previous evening.
“I know who I am,” Lia said, looking him deep in the eye. “I suspect that you are not ignorant of it yourself.”
He gave her a pleased look. “Come, lass. I must finish mucking the stalls. We will talk as I work.” He started back and grabbed the rake again and headed towards another stall.
She followed close behind him. “Why are you doing this?”
He looked at her and laughed. “To be close to the Abbey walls. I need to work, girl, to pay for my bread. To learn the comings and goings of the Abbey. Waiting for you.” He bent forward and started raking the sludge into a pile. “Where is Kieran Ven?”
“At Muirwood, healing,” Lia answered.
“Careless, was he? Poor lad. I thought he knew better.”
“I was careless,” Lia said, feeling roused to anger. “And he suffered for it. Many have suffered needlessly, I am afraid. You know the Blight is coming by Twelfth Night?”
“The…Prince said as much. It comes soon. Three days? I was never that Gifted with numbering.” The rake made a horrible scraping sound.
“That is true,” Lia answered. “Martin – look at me.”
“I hear you well enough while I rake.”
“Please, Martin.”
He stopped, resting his chin on the butt of the pole. He glanced at her, as if the look of her pained him.
“Why did you betray the Aldermaston?” she asked.
His eyebrow quirked. “Is that how you see it? How little you know the ways of the world. The ways of men and kings. Very well, I betrayed him. But you must recognize that I had an allegiance prior to his, lass. I had my own oaths to fulfill.” He started raking again, more vigorously. “An Aldermaston cannot lie. They must speak the exact truth. The Queen Dowager knew this. So did the Earl of Dieyre. I did promise the Aldermaston to take them to a safe haven. There was not an Abbey safer in any kingdom than the one I took her to.” He paused a moment, using the edge of his boot to control an edge of the sludge. “You had the orb, child. You hunted us as I knew you would. You surprised me crossing the Myniths and the lair of the Fear Liath. Only mastons can cross that way unharmed.”
* * *
The pale blush of dawn crept over the island city of Dochte Abbey. As Lia quietly roamed the street, she was the only being up that early. In many other villages and towns, there were those who started working before daylight. But Dochte was as quiet as ossuaries, row after row of stone houses and shingled roofs. Near the rear of the Abbey grounds on the fifth level still, the Cruciger orb led her to the Abbey stables. There was a sound heard at last, the sound of a rake dragging across muck. The pointers directed her towards it. The paddock was open, though dark inside. There was only the sound of raking and the slop of mud and manure. The smell announced it well in advance.
Lia stuffed the orb away and quietly entered the paddock. The inside was full of shadows. Snorts from horses interrupted the stillness as she entered. A heaving noise sounded and she saw a man hefting a bale of hay and carrying it towards the trough. She recognized his size and features. Leathers and hood, but no weapons.
“Martin Evnissyen,” she said in a firm voice, announcing herself.
He did not break his stride and slumped the bale down in the trough, where a few hungry horses began to feed on it. He briskly brushed muck from his hands and strode towards her.
“By Cheshu, lass, it took you long enough to arrive.” As he entered the shaft of light coming from the dimly-lit dawn, she saw his fingers black and filthy and his tunic stained from his work. He smelled horrible.
“Look at you,” she said, shaking her head. “If Pasqua could…”
Her voice froze in her throat as the light fell on his face and she saw the black tattoos zigzagging around his eyes. There was a frightening aspect in his expression, a darkness and emotion that came from his look.
He grinned at her, a fierce grin. “Look at you, lass. So tall. Aye, but what you are thinking the way you look at me? Do you fear I took the water ritual? How can I smell thus and have taken the water ritual, I ask you. These lines and marks on my face are an illusion, my girl. Ink and a steady hand. But it keeps the Dochte Mandar from looking at me twice. A rag and some soap and they are gone. It is you that do not look the part being here. Any lad with even one eye would take you for a foreigner here.” He glanced around her. “Where is Kieran Ven?”
Lia was relieved and shocked at his banter. He spoke as if nothing had happened between them. As if their separation had only been earlier the previous evening.
“I know who I am,” Lia said, looking him deep in the eye. “I suspect that you are not ignorant of it yourself.”
He gave her a pleased look. “Come, lass. I must finish mucking the stalls. We will talk as I work.” He started back and grabbed the rake again and headed towards another stall.
She followed close behind him. “Why are you doing this?”
He looked at her and laughed. “To be close to the Abbey walls. I need to work, girl, to pay for my bread. To learn the comings and goings of the Abbey. Waiting for you.” He bent forward and started raking the sludge into a pile. “Where is Kieran Ven?”
“At Muirwood, healing,” Lia answered.
“Careless, was he? Poor lad. I thought he knew better.”
“I was careless,” Lia said, feeling roused to anger. “And he suffered for it. Many have suffered needlessly, I am afraid. You know the Blight is coming by Twelfth Night?”
“The…Prince said as much. It comes soon. Three days? I was never that Gifted with numbering.” The rake made a horrible scraping sound.
“That is true,” Lia answered. “Martin – look at me.”
“I hear you well enough while I rake.”
“Please, Martin.”
He stopped, resting his chin on the butt of the pole. He glanced at her, as if the look of her pained him.
“Why did you betray the Aldermaston?” she asked.
His eyebrow quirked. “Is that how you see it? How little you know the ways of the world. The ways of men and kings. Very well, I betrayed him. But you must recognize that I had an allegiance prior to his, lass. I had my own oaths to fulfill.” He started raking again, more vigorously. “An Aldermaston cannot lie. They must speak the exact truth. The Queen Dowager knew this. So did the Earl of Dieyre. I did promise the Aldermaston to take them to a safe haven. There was not an Abbey safer in any kingdom than the one I took her to.” He paused a moment, using the edge of his boot to control an edge of the sludge. “You had the orb, child. You hunted us as I knew you would. You surprised me crossing the Myniths and the lair of the Fear Liath. Only mastons can cross that way unharmed.”
