The Banished of Muirwood (13 page)

“What is it?” the kishion asked, noticing her hesitation immediately.

She stared at him, not sure what to say.

“Lady Maia?” Jon Tayt asked with concern.

She grimaced, feeling again the pulse of warmth and warning in her heart. “We must take the north road,” she announced.

Jon Tayt stared at her in stupefaction.

“That puts us on the path to the king’s army,” the kishion said.

“I know,” she said, shaking her head. “I . . . I cannot explain it. I feel that we need to go that way. Urgently.”

Jon Tayt scratched his neck and winced. “That does not sound right, my lady.”

“I know it does not. It goes against common sense. We were walking and I—” She sighed. “The north road.”

Jon Tayt looked at the kishion and then back at her. “It is the last place they would look or suspect we would go.”

The kishion frowned. “You have not directed us like this since the Leerings. It is the Medium?”

Maia nodded.

Jon Tayt threw up his hands. “It goes against all wisdom and common sense. Why not? What do you say, Argus?”

The boarhound barked once.

Maia knelt in front of him and stroked his fur.

“We will be surrounded by the king’s army in moments,” Jon Tayt said. “I want to state that now in case you decide after we are captured that it was a bad idea.”

She straightened and looked him in the eye. “Trusting these feelings, as rarely as they come, has kept us alive so far. I do not know what lies ahead. But I trust it.”

They had not traveled far down the north road before they were surrounded by riders.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Treason

T
he sunlight came slanting through the windows of the chancellor’s tower and glimmered off the polished aurichalcum of the tome on Maia’s lap. She loved tomes—loved the meticulous engravings so gently and delicately inscribed. Not only was a tome a thing of polished beauty, but it revealed the beauty of the writer’s mind. Each tome was filled with the wisdom of the ages, scrawled by hand and etched into the metal pages to be preserved for centuries. You could learn about a man from his thoughts, from what he found important. Some learners chose to fill their tomes with extensive translations of one man’s thoughts . . . an Aldermaston’s, perhaps, or one of the founders of the Dochte Mandar. The tome in her hand was a mixture of both, for Chancellor Walraven always strived to stretch the boundaries of what he knew.

She looked up from the sheaf of aurichalcum, pressing her warm hand against its cool metal. She was sick with worry, her insides clenching and twisting with the dread of anticipated news. Her entire future hinged on the outcome of the trial, as did that of her father’s kingdom.

To help ease the agonizing wait, she had sought refuge in the chancellor’s tower and tried to calm her nerves by reading his tranquil words.

The chancellor had explained the situation to her in great detail before leaving for Muirwood Abbey. When Maia had learned he was bound for that abbey, she had begged him to bring word to her mother. Though he was, as always, sympathetic to her cause, he had refused, as he could not accommodate her without compromising his relationship with her father. It had been obvious from his distraught and haggard visage that the immensity of the problem weighed on him like stones. She had asked him in a whisper to explain the situation fully, to trust her to be discreet and never betray him.

“But what if not betraying me requires you to betray your lord father?” he had asked her wistfully, his eyes settling on her with compassion. “I would not ask you to do that, child. Your first allegiance must be to your Family.”

Then he had told her what he could of the complicated situation. As she knew, her parents had been married by irrevocare sigil. Only Maia’s mother had grounds to dissolve the marriage, but if she were to relinquish her claims as the king’s wife and queen, Maia would be disinherited formally and forever. Her banishment would become permanent, as fixed as an irrevocare sigil itself. The queen would not do that.

So the king was trying to dissolve the union politically and divorce her according to the laws of the Dochte Mandar. That would mean bringing Comoros under the power of the Chief Scribe of Naess, and the maston Families of the realm were against such an extreme measure, for it would give the Dochte Mandar unprecedented authority in the realm.

So a trial had been ordered to take place in Comoros to legally disavow the marriage. Only there was one problem. The queen refused to attend. She had claimed the right of sanctuary at Muirwood Abbey, and as a maston herself, she could not be forced to leave the grounds, no matter how much her husband blustered or threatened her.

Maia rubbed her shoulders, trying to suppress the shivering. Her soul was full of blackness and evil thoughts. She was proud of her mother, proud of her strength and her convictions. But Maia herself had no ability to claim the rights of sanctuary. She was a political pawn. Her mother had asked repeatedly for Maia to be sent to Muirwood to visit her, but each request was refused.

The king had threatened to march an army to Muirwood to take her by force, thereby breaking another maston oath, but the noble Families of the realm refused to acquiesce or obey the summons should he choose to make good on his threat. More and more of the ancient Families withdrew from court and stayed in their own Hundreds. In their place, a web of courtiers had emerged to insinuate themselves into her father’s good graces and sow discord in his ears. Lady Deorwynn’s Family were chief among these.

So it had been arranged for the trial to take place at Muirwood itself, where the Aldermaston of Muirwood would preside over it. Maia would have given anything to attend. The bitter feelings between her parents were creating a rift in the kingdom. It was doing the same thing to her heart.

She stared out the windows, enormous dread weighing down on her, and watched as a single rider entered the castle bailey down below. Her heart shuddered with the premonition of the news, and she set down the tome and began to pace the tower, wringing her hands and feeling sick enough to vomit.

There was a commotion on the stairs below, and she heard the clud of many boots ascending the tower. Were these soldiers coming to arrest her? She felt herself go pale with fear, and she tugged at her sleeve nervously. Before she had the chance to act, the door opened. She saw the felt hats of the soldiers first, followed by the maston swords belted to their waists. They were knights! She stared at them in surprise, and some of them gave her puzzled looks in return.

“What are you doing here, Lady Maia?” one of them asked.

“Who is it?” came a voice from lower down the stairwell.

“The king’s daughter.”

Maia swallowed as a middle-aged man reached the top of the steps. He wore a fine fur cloak, a green satin doublet, and—most importantly—the gold chain of the office of chancellor around his neck. Her eyes widened. What had become of her friend?

“Greetings, Lady Maia,” the newcomer said, bowing quickly. “Ah, here to welcome me to my chamber.”

“My lord, forgive me,” she stuttered, her mind whirling end over end. “I was anticipating—”

“Walraven’s return, no doubt. Yes, you were close to him, I daresay. He was fond of you as well, to be sure. Well, this creates an awkward moment, but we will survive it. Your father has named me as lord chancellor of the realm.”

She stared at him in blank shock.

He smiled benignly at her look. “We have not met, Lady Maia, but let me remedy that. I am Tomas Morton.”

“I know you by reputation, my lord,” Maia said, surprised. “You are a lawyer in the city and famous for your writings on ancient maston customs. You wrote a treatise on the reign of Lia Demont and the unified kingdom she ruled when the mastons fled these shores.”

He smiled at the tribute and bowed again. “No doubt your highness has not read the book yourself, as women are forbidden to read, but I have sympathy for you there, for Lia Demont was not allowed to read until she was older.”

“It was read to me,” Maia said sheepishly. It was a half lie. She
had
read the book herself too.

“Well, perhaps we can discuss it someday. But greetings aside, I did not expect to find you up here upon my return from the trial at Muirwood.”

“You were there?” Maia pressed.

“Of course. That is where the king appointed me his new chancellor. I am sorry to bring evil tidings to you, Lady Maia. Your father has ordered the expulsion of the Dochte Mandar from Comoros. Immediately. Irrevocably. Illegally, I might add, but such it is.”

Maia sat down on the window seat she had so often occupied in her childhood, unable to summon the presence of mind to speak.

“You are amazed, to be sure,” Chancellor Morton said.

“I am,” Maia whispered. She looked up at him and then swept her gaze over the knight-mastons who had gathered around them.

“Let me explain, as best I can, my lady.” Before continuing, he wiped his mouth and adjusted his own felt hat, as if he were loath to relive the experience. “The trial did not go as your father had hoped,” he finally said. “Queen Catrin, your mother, refused to accept the authority of the court or its legal mandate to disinherit her. She was defiant, but very humble, and she begged her husband to reconsider his rash desires.” He tapped his lips, growing silent. “I tell you, my lady, she was very convincing. She spoke with poise and passion, warning all that a great calamity would befall the kingdoms if your father’s breach of the maston decrees continued unchecked. On her knees, she begged your father’s pardon and committed herself to overlook his transgressions and mend the marriage.” His voice grew quiet. “My lady, the Medium was there so powerfully, we all felt it. We sensed the danger brooding in the room. She said we have fallen away from the maston rites, that we have forgotten our duty to rebuild the abbeys. She said we have been blinded by the machinations of the Dochte Mandar, who pit the kingdoms against one another and seek to destroy unity through intrigue.”

Maia felt her heart bursting with pride for her mother. Tears pricked her eyes, but she would not let them fall. A timid flame of hope kindled inside her.

“What then, my lord?” Maia said in a hushed whisper.

“The king was silent. He was fearfully silent. The noble Families of the realm had all sent emissaries to try and persuade him to reconcile with your mother. She knelt in front of him, tears streaming down her cheeks. Everyone was moved. The king demanded proof of her accusation against the Dochte Mandar, proof that they were plotting against the realm.” He walked to the edge of the chancellor’s desk and picked up an ink-stained quill. “The chancellor’s own hand condemned him. The queen said they needed to look no farther than the chancellor’s own satchel bag for evidence of treachery. There they would find a letter addressed to the chief scribe of the Dochte Mandar plotting against the realm, planning for a time when the Dochte Mandar might take full authority of Comoros. You can imagine the uproar, my lady. Only the Medium could have told her what was in the bag. The king ordered for the chancellor’s kystrel to be ripped from his neck and melted by a blacksmith, but he was not wearing one when he was apprehended. Even now, I have orders to expel every Dochte Mandar from the kingdom, save for Walraven.”

Maia’s eyes widened. “Why? My lord, is he to be punished?”

“He is under guard, my lady. He will not be permitted to leave Comoros. Not even his bones. He knows too much.”

Maia stood and rubbed her arms, her heart pounding fast. She had trusted Chancellor Walraven. She had trusted him implicitly. Had he been using her all along? Was she one of his pawns in this terrible web of intrigue? Her heart was breaking at the mere thought of it.

“What of my mother?” Maia pleaded.

Chancellor Morton stared at her with sympathy. He sighed. “Catrin is still banished from court. Your father refuses to reconcile with her.”

Maia felt as if she had been struck a second physical blow.

“His Majesty the King has told me that you are forbidden to see or speak with her. There will be no messages delivered. That is his will.”

She stared at him in horror. “Lord Chancellor, this is unjust!”

“I agree, Lady Maia. The King is very wroth. He did not get his way, and he learned that Walraven betrayed him. You can be sure, he is quite angry still and lashes out as a man in pain is wont to do, injuring the very people who are trying to heal him. I am but a humble lawyer, Lady Maia, but I am also a maston. I will speak the truth in plainness and wisdom, as the Medium sees fit to bestow on me. We will purge the realm of the Dochte Mandar. Then I will seek to reconcile you to your father. Until then, be patient, my lady.”

Maia nodded gravely, her heart blistering with heat, and descended the steps of the tower. As she left, she heard the chancellor say, “Search the entire castle. We must round up every last one.”

The main hall was engulfed in activity, and as the news spread, people jostled past each other unseeing. Maia was quickly lost in the crowd. She bumped into the edges of the wall, nearly tripping on the scattered floor rushes. The noise of the common room became deafening, and she longed for the solitude of the chancellor’s tower. She knew she would not be permitted refuge there again.

“Lady Maia.”

She barely heard the words through the fog in her mind. Someone touched her shoulder.

Maia turned, confused, to see a page. He was about her own age and dressed in the king’s livery.

“He bid me give you this,” the boy murmured softly, holding out a small package of folded paper with a wax seal. The seal was affixed with the king’s ring—the ring that the chancellor wore.

She looked at the boy, who glanced nervously around, thrust the package in her hand, and then vanished into the crowd.

Maia hastily retreated to the gardens behind the castle grounds, crushing the small packet in her hand. Her heart pounded with anxiety. The packet was heavy, as if it carried coins. But she suspected—nay, she
knew
—what was in it. The wax of the seal rubbed against her palm. She fought down her emotions, struggling to breathe, and found a quiet stone bench amidst the tall hedges. She glanced around furtively, making certain she was alone and had not been followed, then sank onto the bench and broke the seal.

She opened the stiff paper and saw the first words of blotchy ink. Chancellor Walraven’s handwriting. The edges of the kystrel peeked out beneath the next fold in the paper. Her heart thrummed with fear and excitement as she set the medallion on her lap. Then, smoothing the paper out, she started to read.

Lady Maia,