The Ciphers of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood #2)(30)

Jon Tayt stepped back and gestured surreptitiously for Maia and Suzenne to step aside.

Dodd gripped the axe hard, his face pinched and serious, and swung back. The axe flew backward from his hands and clattered into the woodpile.

Jon Tayt wiped his face, grimacing. “You hold onto the haft, lad.”

“I know,” Dodd said heatedly, stalking over and fetching it. Even his ears were pink with shame. He came back, took the stance, and then brought the axe wheeling down. Maia startled, just slightly, as the blade clove the round in half with a crack like thunder.

“Good swing. Now fetch the pieces, one at a time.”

Dodd was frowning with impatience and frustration as he quickly planted one of the halves on the stump. He stepped back, checked himself, and split it with a powerful stroke, the pieces flying away like startled rabbits.

“Smaller,” Jon Tayt guided. Dodd complied and soon the round had been reduced to a small stack of kindling.

“And why are you two standing there?” Jon Tayt said to the girls. “Do you not see the wood littering the ground? You must not have failed to notice that stack over by the side of the lodge. Get to it!”

As they started to collect the fragments of wood, Maia saw the confusion and surprise on Suzenne’s face. She was delicate in lifting each piece and Maia could see she was very uncomfortable with doing physical work. Maia had long been a servant, and her wretched’s gown was loose about the arms and wrists, making it easy to maneuver. She was able to grab several fragments into a bundle and move the pieces much faster than Suzenne could.

A drop of rain splashed on Maia’s nose. She stared up at the darkening sky, and soon the rain began pelting them. It was not a gentle drizzle, but a rumbling downpour. The wind began to keen through the trees. Argus padded over to the grass and lay down, his fur soon soaked through.

“Did I tell you to stop cutting?” Jon Tayt said, annoyed. “It is only a little rain, and the work must be done. Another!”

Maia smiled at the determined look on Dodd’s face as he mopped the rain from his eyes and went back to the block. He started to work in earnest, bringing down the axe in powerful, confident strokes and splitting the logs into pieces that Maia and Suzenne then fetched and stacked.

“Our gowns are ruined,” Suzenne complained, staring at her sopping sleeves and bedraggled hair. Though Maia was equally soaked, the physical work made her feel alive. A part of her reveled in the dampness of her hair and freshness of the rain.

“It is only water,” Maia said, lifting her face to the sky and feeling the rain on her nose and cheeks.

Suzenne did not look convinced, but after a while she got into the rhythm of the work. Jon Tayt showed them how to stack the wood properly, of course, since he was an expert in all things. Despite being wet from nose to tail, Argus looked tranquil in their company, and his tail wagged contentedly. They had built up quite a pile of wood when Maia noticed Suzenne staring at Dodd. He had doffed his tunic and his padded shirt was soaked through, the sleeves bunched up at his elbows. His hair was sticking to his neck and he looked as if he were enjoying himself.

“You two run along,” Jon Tayt said in Maia’s ear. “A little work is good for the soul. He will be more open to what I have to say to him now. Go on with your friend.”

“Thank you,” Maia answered, patting his shoulder. She gestured for Suzenne to follow. Her friend looked torn between the prospect of staying behind to talk to Dodd and getting into dry clothes, but she nodded after a moment and took Maia’s arm.

The cold was beginning to intensify with the setting sun and the chill wind, so they clung to each other as they walked back to the Aldermaston’s manor. The grounds had been abandoned in the storm, and it was just the two of them, sloshing in the mud and grass as they wound their way back to shelter.

“I have never been this wet or cold,” Suzenne said, her teeth chattering. “But was that not . . . exciting?”

“I enjoyed it,” Maia said. “It is not as cold as a blizzard, I can assure you of that.”

“You are so brave,” Suzenne said, shaking her soggy tresses. “I did not think he would make us work in the rain.”

Maia patted her arm. “Yet we command our helpers to do it,” she said. “As if their discomfort is a lesser evil than ours.”

“I will remember that the next time I ask Celia to do the washing,” Suzenne said. “Should we go to the kitchen first? What will Collett say if we arrive like this?”

“Thewliss will say nothing, of course,” Maia teased.

“I know, he never speaks.” Suzenne laughed. “Who is that?” she asked, looking ahead.

A figure had emerged from the gloom, a tall man wearing a dripping mantle that covered him almost completely. He was walking toward them from the kitchen.

“Do you recognize him?” Maia asked, her stomach knotting with concern.

The hooded figure approached them, and as he drew near, Maia recognized him as the sheriff of Mendenhall. She frowned.

He stopped in front of them, his face sallow and scrutinizing. He had cunning eyes, a goatee, and a long hook nose. She remembered from her first morning with the Ciphers that Maeg was his daughter. The thought made her uneasy.

“You are quite soaked through, girls,” he said solicitously. “I hardly recognized you, Lady Clarencieux.”