The Ciphers of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood #2)(22)
“That is exactly what he is trying to goad you into doing,” Sabine said cautiously, shaking her head. “His measured intent was to provoke us into rash action. You can be certain the grounds will be watched. If you were to leave this circle of safety, you would be captured.”
He wheeled on her. “How can I sit here and do nothing?”
She looked at him with compassion. “Do you trust the Medium?”
His lips quivered with pent-up emotion. “Of course I trust it.”
“Do you?” she asked in an even softer voice. “Is that the feeling that compels you to ride north? Or are you listening to your rage?”
His jaw clenched in anguish. “How can I not feel anger, High Seer? He threatens my Family. The king would murder my father for speaking the truth. Is that just?”
Sabine shook her head. “No, it is not just. But we cannot see the end of all things. Only the Medium can. We learn the Medium’s will when our hearts are calm, our thoughts untroubled. You must not allow your emotions to rule you, Dodd. Then you will know the Medium’s will for you. All of us will die eventually. We must not be afraid to live.”
She turned her attention to the Aldermaston. “The Medium compels me to leave. It has been weighing on me since I arrived.” She reached over and gripped Maia’s hand. “As much as I desire to remain here and help tutor my granddaughter for the maston test, I must depart. Aldermaston, the exterior works of the abbey are done. I will need a dozen of the workers to come with me on the Holk with spades and shovels.”
“Where?” Maia asked in concern.
Sabine shook her head. “I cannot tell you. But I feel its urgency. I must leave you.”
Maia felt her heart constrict with pain, but she understood that the news the Earl of Forshee brought had irrevocably changed the situation. Her father had cast out the Dochte Mandar, and now he was putting himself above the order of the mastons. He was becoming like the kings of old who had persecuted and hunted the mastons. Her stomach filled with dread, remembering what had happened to that king, and fervently hoped the Medium would not compel her to do battle with her father. Violence always spawned more violence.
“What would you have us do after you leave?” said Tomas, the steward. He looked as shaken as Maia felt.
“What you have always done,” Sabine replied. “All of us must seek the Medium’s wisdom in this situation. Jon Tayt, I entrust you with my granddaughter’s safety. Right now, her presence here is not commonly known, though it will not remain a secret for long. I have a sense that a confrontation between you and your father is coming, child. He will try to make you sign the Act of Submission. You must not, Maia. One cannot attempt to force the Medium to obey without dire consequences. His decision may trigger a devastating Blight on this kingdom. We must do all that we can to persuade him to abandon this folly. We must persuade him.”
“You may as well try persuading a stone,” Jon Tayt muttered darkly. “He will not heed.”
Sabine stood to leave and Maia rose and pulled her grandmother into a tight hug. Their time together had been painfully short, and she already felt the keen edge the absence would bring. At least she could say good-bye. She had lost her mother without having that chance. She still had not resigned herself to it, and the news that her father had celebrated such a tragedy sliced into her already scarred heart.
She glanced over and saw Dodd staring at her intently, his eyes blazing with emotion. She felt the weight of her duties crushing her shoulders, growing heavier moment by moment, like watching a rockslide gain new stones as it tumbled down a hill. How would the descendants of her ancestors feel about the world to which they returned? They would be joining a corrupt kingdom led by her father, a faithless king. Yet it was that or face the armada of the Naestors who sought to destroy them.
She felt Sabine’s thumb on her cheekbone, brushing away a stray tear. “You are not alone,” Sabine whispered, her voice urgent.
“I do not want you to go,” Maia said, a sob threatening to choke her.
Sabine’s eyes glistened with tears. She leaned forward and touched her forehead to Maia’s. “I do not know what will happen,” she said. “My gift of Seering is of the past. Our ancestors faced hard trials like this one. Lia’s father knew he was going to die, knew that he would never be able to raise his daughter. He still obeyed the Medium’s will.” She bit her lip. “Perhaps the Medium will expect us to give our lives to this cause. I do not know, but I do know this. It is scriven in Lia’s tome over and over. Trust the Medium. Trust the Medium. Even when the present becomes unbearable.” Her fingers tugged gingerly in Maia’s hair. “Seek the Medium’s will and then do it. I will do all that I can to return before Whitsunday. But no matter what happens, you must redeem the abbey, Maia. You must fulfill the Covenant.”
Maia stared into her grandmother’s eyes. “I will.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Alone
The cloisters were perfectly quiet as Maia set down her scriving tool and stared, tear-stricken, at what she had just engraved. She experienced a twisted mesh of feelings as she brushed the tiny shards of aurichalcum away. Next to her tome lay her mother’s, open to its final sheet, her last entry, the one Maia had just engraved into her own. Blotting her tears on her sleeve, she read the passage again. A passage Catrin had written to her husband.