The Ciphers of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood #2)(103)
The sky was hazy with soot smoke, and the wind carried foul odors on its breezes. Suzenne mimicked her example by covering her head with a cowl, and Dodd walked in front, leading the way. They reached the gates, which were closed, and the porter rose and stared at them suspiciously.
“Who be ye?” the grizzled man said with a crusty accent. “Did I greet ye earlier?”
Maia stared through the bars of the gate at the busy commotion on the street. Carts splashed through the filth and people walked quickly but carefully to avoid heaping mounds of dung. Flies hurried this way and that. The city reeked, making Maia recollect the fastidiousness of Hautland’s capital.
“Open the gate,” Dodd said with a tone of command.
The old porter scratched his neck and rose, then trudged to the gate to fit a large iron key into the lock. He twisted it, stopped to scratch his lower back, and pulled on the gate, which squealed. The sound drew the attention of many passersby, but Maia hoped the hood would shield her from notice. Dodd gestured for them to follow and entered the rush.
As soon as Maia left the arch of the gateway, she felt the presence of the Medium gutter out. It was almost like plunging into a brackish pond. There were Myriad Ones everywhere, skulking and sniffing and panting at them as soon as they left the abbey’s protection. These were not skulking beings waiting for them . . . they were part of the normal ebb and flow of the city, joining the squalor and reveling in the decay. Maia saw in the faces around her the hard looks of bitterness and disappointment. Of people living in cramped quarters, suffering from want of bread and meat, joy and happiness. Of men and women terrorized by their neighbors and accustomed to having things stolen by thieves. The very air was a sickening miasma, and Maia wondered immediately at the wisdom of her decision. The Myriad Ones who sniffled at them seemed to sense they were mastons and began mewling with savagery.
“What a horrid place,” Suzenne whispered, her face white.
Dodd looked more hardened. “Even the Bearden Muir feels less miserable than this.”
Maia followed Dodd, feeling completely defenseless. Angry shouts erupted all around, and people jostled them. Even though their clothes were plain, they were not filthy like the inhabitants of Comoros, which made Maia feel even more conspicuous.
Her shoulder began to throb and burn, and she felt something awakening inside her.
Maia gritted her teeth. Of course she felt the hetaera brand in this place. It was aroused by the attractive brew of grief, misery, and greed. She focused her thoughts, remembering their destination. Simon Fox. Flax Street. She saw Dodd stop a man, head bent low to ask him for directions.
She felt an urgent need to return to Muirwood. This city was utter blackness. Had it always been this way? Could she only feel its true character now that she was a maston, or had her father’s corrupt ways ruined it? After so many years of banishment from the capital, she was unsure.
When the sheriff’s men had forced her to leave Muirwood Abbey, she had been attacked immediately by the Myriad Ones. It felt different here, for she had the chaen to protect her.
The man Dodd had stopped gestured with a greasy finger down the street, pointing toward a tavern sign. Dodd nodded and thanked him.
A hand clamped around Maia’s arm, startling her. She turned just as another man grabbed Suzenne.
The man forced her to turn and yanked the cowl back. He was unfamiliar to her, but he seemed to recognize her. “Ah, it is her,” he said, his teeth crooked. His breath was awful. “Crabwell thought you might come through Claredon and not the city gates.” He leered at her. “Welcome home to Comoros, Lady Maia.”
“Unhand her,” Dodd warned, gripping one of his throwing axes.
The man looked at him without concern. “You do not think the chancellor left us unprepared?” he mocked. “Gaze up at the roof, boy. See the crossbowmen? You pull your arm back to throw that little hatchet, and you’ll be a porcupine.”
Maia’s insides twisted with terror. “You are the chancellor’s men? I insist you bring us to him at once.”
He chuckled darkly. “Insists, she does? How polite. I always heard the king’s daughter was polite.”
Maia saw the circle of men ghosting from the crowd to surround them. None of them wore uniforms marking them as the chancellor’s men, but there were easily a dozen. Though his grip on her arm pained her, she did not let it show on her face. She gestured with her other hand for Dodd to lower his weapon.
The man smiled and nodded at her with a twisted smile. “Wise too. A good decision, lass. You probably do not recognize me, but I remember you. Name is Trefew. I was one of the ones who threw you out of court the last time. When you went to Lady Shilton’s manor.” He smiled again, his expression full of angles and seams. He stared at her, his eyes smoldering with threats. She remembered him at last—he had been commanded to rip the gown from her if she did not willingly change into a servant’s smock. “I have not forgotten you, lass. Now, the chancellor would like to see you. But his orders are to bring you immediately to Pent Tower. You are under arrest for treason as well.”
“Very well,” Maia said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “Take me, and let these two go.”
Trefew pursed his lips and clucked. “Oh-ho now! That lad is a Price. Looks just like his brothers. And the flax-haired girl is too pretty to wander the streets alone. No, missy. We will all be going to the tower together.”