The Scourge of Muirwood
Page 66
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“The Aldermaston wishes to speak with her.”
“He will. But I paid you to allow me the first chance to speak with her. Give us a moment before the Aldermaston comes. Go.”
“As you wish,” came an arrogant reply. The curtain of men parted and Lia saw Dieyre in the doorway, a goblet in his hand, his shirt collar unbuttoned and open, exposing his chest, damp with sweat. His unruly hair was just as she remembered it and she felt a spasm of dread. The last time they had faced each other, she had tried to kill him and he had succeeded in killing her.
He seemed amused by the expression on her face. “Come in, Lia.”
The Dochte Mandar allowed her to pass them and she did, entering the room and Dieyre shut the door behind her, letting her pass near him. He seemed to smell her scent as she passed by. It made her feel terrible.
“Are you thirsty?” he asked and brought the goblet to his mouth and took a sip from it. She could smell the cider on his breath.
It was a bedchamber with no windows. It reminded her a little of the one in the Aldermaston’s manor, the one where Marciana and Hillel had slept. There was a fireplace, an enormous canopied bed with huge velvet curtains sprawled open, revealing a disheveled mattress and blankets. There was his sword, propped against a cushioned seat.
“I will not drink the cider,” Lia said, turning slightly to glance at him.
He sauntered into the room and set his goblet down on a table after taking another swallow from it. “How about a bath then? I was about to bathe when the knock sounded. You are filthy, Lia. Such a girl as you should be in a gown instead of that hunter garb. Would you like me to fetch a gown for you?”
She turned and faced him, angry by his impertinence. “You want Marciana. I know where she is.”
Dieyre smiled hungrily, his eyes narrowing with pleasure. “Of course you do. I am sure she was headed to Muirwood when you burned down my castle in Comoros. Really, Lia, that was unfair. I liked that castle.” He sighed dramatically. “The question is not where is Marciana now. The question is where she will be going. There is an Abbey in Pry-Ree where she and the others will be sent. Which Abbey is it?”
Lia licked her lips. “You think I will tell you?”
“I know that you will, sooner or later.” He lifted the goblet again and took a sip. His eyes smoldered with anger. “For your sake…I mean for Forshee’s sake I hope you relent sooner than later. But relent you will. Tell us everything you will. You will even join us before this is over, my dear. So why not skip the unpleasantness? You have been running a good long while. But I am a hunter too, and I have chased you down. Have the grace to admit you are caught, you are defenseless, and that nothing you do or say will deliver you from this place until you agree to join our cause. I granted you the chance to join me at Muirwood, and you spurned the offer. I extend it now on the most agreeable terms. Join us, Lia. One way or the other, you will.”
“Join you?” Lia asked, nearly chuckling with amusement.
“I am serious. Look at you, girl. Mud-spattered and filthy. Weary from marching across this land. Look at the bath. Does it not look inviting? We can talk while you bathe. I promise you that I will not look. At least we can discuss the terms of your surrender? There are privileges you can barter for. Come, Lia. Take off your cloak.”
She stared him in the face. Her voice was low and full of hatred. “Is this how you wooed Reome?”
There was dark fire in Dieyre’s eyes. She had no idea how much he had been drinking the cider. “Smell as a pig if you wish,” he replied blandly. “I do not have much time with you, so I best dash all your hopes quickly. This is all part of the Queen Dowager’s plan. Muirwood will fall by Twelfth Night. She is still there, Lia. She is plotting its overthrow. All the pieces were in place when I was sent to Comoros in chains. Do you think I was under guard for long?” He stepped closer to her, his eyes having lost all their acidic humor. “There is a traitor at the Abbey, Lia. The Aldermaston will be betrayed and he will be killed. Demont is already dead. Poisoned, actually. Yes, I know it for a fact. The Aldermaston will take the blame for the earl’s murder as well as the king’s murder. Another Aldermaston stands ready to fill the void. It all happens by Twelfth Night. The Abbeys have fallen, Lia. All the mastons will be killed – except one. Forshee lives. But only if I get Marciana. If she vanishes into the woods of Pry-Ree, then Forshee will die. A terrible death, Lia, I assure you. It will make the death of the Demont family seem like a blessing. What is coming to those who do not accept the water rite is really cruel. I submitted myself already. So will you. But we do not just want the water rite for you, Lia. No, you have a special destiny. Do you understand me? Muirwood will fall. The stupid warnings you have been sending about so urgently are a sham. The Blight is coming at Twelfth Night, just as you predicted. But it is the destruction of the mastons. Their power has failed. No one is left who believes that you must be good, and honorable, and self-sacrificing and all that rubbish. I choke on it, Lia.” His face quivered with rage. “I have choked on it since Billerbeck Abbey. That will be the last Abbey to burn.”
“He will. But I paid you to allow me the first chance to speak with her. Give us a moment before the Aldermaston comes. Go.”
“As you wish,” came an arrogant reply. The curtain of men parted and Lia saw Dieyre in the doorway, a goblet in his hand, his shirt collar unbuttoned and open, exposing his chest, damp with sweat. His unruly hair was just as she remembered it and she felt a spasm of dread. The last time they had faced each other, she had tried to kill him and he had succeeded in killing her.
He seemed amused by the expression on her face. “Come in, Lia.”
The Dochte Mandar allowed her to pass them and she did, entering the room and Dieyre shut the door behind her, letting her pass near him. He seemed to smell her scent as she passed by. It made her feel terrible.
“Are you thirsty?” he asked and brought the goblet to his mouth and took a sip from it. She could smell the cider on his breath.
It was a bedchamber with no windows. It reminded her a little of the one in the Aldermaston’s manor, the one where Marciana and Hillel had slept. There was a fireplace, an enormous canopied bed with huge velvet curtains sprawled open, revealing a disheveled mattress and blankets. There was his sword, propped against a cushioned seat.
“I will not drink the cider,” Lia said, turning slightly to glance at him.
He sauntered into the room and set his goblet down on a table after taking another swallow from it. “How about a bath then? I was about to bathe when the knock sounded. You are filthy, Lia. Such a girl as you should be in a gown instead of that hunter garb. Would you like me to fetch a gown for you?”
She turned and faced him, angry by his impertinence. “You want Marciana. I know where she is.”
Dieyre smiled hungrily, his eyes narrowing with pleasure. “Of course you do. I am sure she was headed to Muirwood when you burned down my castle in Comoros. Really, Lia, that was unfair. I liked that castle.” He sighed dramatically. “The question is not where is Marciana now. The question is where she will be going. There is an Abbey in Pry-Ree where she and the others will be sent. Which Abbey is it?”
Lia licked her lips. “You think I will tell you?”
“I know that you will, sooner or later.” He lifted the goblet again and took a sip. His eyes smoldered with anger. “For your sake…I mean for Forshee’s sake I hope you relent sooner than later. But relent you will. Tell us everything you will. You will even join us before this is over, my dear. So why not skip the unpleasantness? You have been running a good long while. But I am a hunter too, and I have chased you down. Have the grace to admit you are caught, you are defenseless, and that nothing you do or say will deliver you from this place until you agree to join our cause. I granted you the chance to join me at Muirwood, and you spurned the offer. I extend it now on the most agreeable terms. Join us, Lia. One way or the other, you will.”
“Join you?” Lia asked, nearly chuckling with amusement.
“I am serious. Look at you, girl. Mud-spattered and filthy. Weary from marching across this land. Look at the bath. Does it not look inviting? We can talk while you bathe. I promise you that I will not look. At least we can discuss the terms of your surrender? There are privileges you can barter for. Come, Lia. Take off your cloak.”
She stared him in the face. Her voice was low and full of hatred. “Is this how you wooed Reome?”
There was dark fire in Dieyre’s eyes. She had no idea how much he had been drinking the cider. “Smell as a pig if you wish,” he replied blandly. “I do not have much time with you, so I best dash all your hopes quickly. This is all part of the Queen Dowager’s plan. Muirwood will fall by Twelfth Night. She is still there, Lia. She is plotting its overthrow. All the pieces were in place when I was sent to Comoros in chains. Do you think I was under guard for long?” He stepped closer to her, his eyes having lost all their acidic humor. “There is a traitor at the Abbey, Lia. The Aldermaston will be betrayed and he will be killed. Demont is already dead. Poisoned, actually. Yes, I know it for a fact. The Aldermaston will take the blame for the earl’s murder as well as the king’s murder. Another Aldermaston stands ready to fill the void. It all happens by Twelfth Night. The Abbeys have fallen, Lia. All the mastons will be killed – except one. Forshee lives. But only if I get Marciana. If she vanishes into the woods of Pry-Ree, then Forshee will die. A terrible death, Lia, I assure you. It will make the death of the Demont family seem like a blessing. What is coming to those who do not accept the water rite is really cruel. I submitted myself already. So will you. But we do not just want the water rite for you, Lia. No, you have a special destiny. Do you understand me? Muirwood will fall. The stupid warnings you have been sending about so urgently are a sham. The Blight is coming at Twelfth Night, just as you predicted. But it is the destruction of the mastons. Their power has failed. No one is left who believes that you must be good, and honorable, and self-sacrificing and all that rubbish. I choke on it, Lia.” His face quivered with rage. “I have choked on it since Billerbeck Abbey. That will be the last Abbey to burn.”
