The Ciphers of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood #2)(41)

Argus’s ears shot up and a low snuffling growl issued from his mouth. Someone was there. Maia felt the chill of fear grip her heart.

“Chut,” Jon Tayt warned, rising from the bearskin mat and setting down his tray. He reached the front door just as a timid knock sounded. It was Owen again.

“The Aldermaston has called for Suzenne,” Owen said nervously, wringing his hands. “The chancellor wishes to speak with her.”

Suzenne’s face went ashen. “Me?”

Owen nodded dumbly. “He said he must see ‘one Suzenne Clarencieux.’ Those were his exact words, my lady. The Aldermaston sent me to fetch you.”

Jon Tayt scowled. “I like that not. By Cheshu, what is he after? Does he know your Family, lass?”

Suzenne blanched. “I would think not. We are a noble Family, but not one of great importance.”

“He’s sniffing like a dog, looking for a scent. Owen, take her to the Aldermaston. Maia, you stay here with me.”

Brushing off her hands, Suzenne rose and looked very nervous as she headed into the dark with Owen.

“What is your guess?” Maia asked Jon Tayt as he shut the door behind them. “I can tell you are thinking.”

Jon Tayt rose and did not answer. He began stuffing supplies into a rucksack. After a moment, he looked at her pointedly. “Yours is over there, lass. Fill it!”

“Am I not safe on these grounds?” she asked.

“Are you a maston yet?” he snapped. “Until you are, you have no protection, and cannot call for sanctuary even under the old law. Quickly. I sense an ill wind blowing.”

Maia nodded and rushed over to the rucksack, which she began stuffing with food, a water flask, and a blanket.

The door opened without a knock and Argus started to bark fiercely. The sheriff of Mendenhall entered. Argus nearly leaped at him, but Jon Tayt whistled, and the dog stepped back, scaling back his barks to a low-pitched whine that showed he was sensitive to the tension in the room.

The sheriff’s eyes were gray. She had never noticed that before, but now that he was staring at her so pointedly, she could notice little but their cold, cunning color. He wore his noble’s clothes, a fine leather tunic, and the collar of knighthood visible around his neck. His sword pommel showed the maston symbol, but that could mean any number of things. His eyes were calculating, and he stared at her deliberately.

“Thank you for quieting the dog,” the sheriff said, releasing his grip on his dagger hilt. “I am grateful I did not have to.”

“Never threaten a man’s hound,” Jon Tayt warned. He had an axe haft in his hand, poised to throw. His eyes were deadly earnest.

“I seek no quarrel with you, hunter,” the sheriff said.

“You may have found it regardless,” Jon Tayt replied. “How many men do you have outside?”

“Enough,” the sheriff answered.

Jon Tayt’s eyes burned with fury. “You think so?” His voice was full of challenge.

“Let us go outside and you can count. How high can you count?” The last was added as a deliberate insult.

“What do you want?” Maia asked, stepping forward. A part of her—a dark part of her—wished she still had her kystrel. She felt the need slipping in through the door cracked open by her fear and wariness. This was what the Aldermaston had warned her against. Temptation. She licked her lips, trying unsuccessfully to quell her fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of the future, it did not matter—fear was the reason many turned to the powers of the Myriad Ones. She did not feel them nearby. That was impossible on the abbey grounds. But she could practically feel them scratching at the invisible walls that kept them out.

“You,” he replied simply.

“I do not understand you, Sheriff. What do you mean?”

“I came for you, my dear,” he said, a long, nervous smile playing across his mouth. “I have a theory, you see, and I summoned Chancellor Crabwell to Muirwood to help me test it. He left Comoros in secret two days ago and told no one where he was going. He was most interested in my news.”

Maia swallowed, trying to contain the nervousness blooming inside her. “What news is that?” she asked, but she suspected his answer.

“Every spy in every kingdom is searching for the King of Comoros’s missing daughter. All reports suggest she was taken to the Dochte Mandar in Naess, but no one has seen her there these many months. There are many rumors, my lady. Rumors that Lady Deorwynn had her poisoned.” He snorted. “The people have been demanding to see her. There are riots in the city, my lady. You may wear the robes of a wretched, but you cannot conceal your beauty.”

Jon Tayt hefted the axe, his eyes brooding with intention. Maia held up her hand, forestalling him.

“What is it you want?” Maia whispered.

“You admit it then?”

“I have admitted nothing. You are the one telling the story, Sheriff. What is it you want?”

A crooked smile crossed his face. “What many people want,” the sheriff answered, his voice harsh and cold. “Lady Deorwynn’s downfall. You are the true heir of Comoros, not Deorwynn’s brood.” He almost spat out the word. “There are many who seek her demise. I suspected your secret months ago. I have been very patient. Very discreet. You will find those traits distinctive about me, my lady. I know someone has been rifling through my correspondence. Someone here at the abbey. Someone not quite subtle enough.” His eyes burned into hers. “It may even be you. I summoned Chancellor Crabwell to Muirwood to test my conclusion. I believe you are Marciana, the king’s daughter, our true princess. How you came to be at Muirwood, I do not know. But this I will tell you. Chancellor Crabwell wishes to speak to you. He sent for Lady Clarencieux to help me locate your presence on the grounds. I am to bring you to him immediately.”