The Ciphers of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood #2)(72)
“Please summarize the contents of your message,” Sabine told him patiently. “I truly wish to understand your position.”
Kranmir clasped his doughy hands in front of him after smoothing the sable fur of his stole. “In my letter, I recommended that a new policy be employed throughout the various kingdoms. You bear a heavy administrative burden, my dear, one that frankly overtaxes your capabilities. I am aware of several Aldermastons who have expressed a measure of discontent in waiting to hear back from you regarding matters of the utmost importance. My suggestion is that each kingdom be given the administrative duties that you bear, which will then be settled upon a chief precinct. Matters will be treated locally first, thus diminishing the burden that you are clearly struggling to heft. My recommendation is to begin this at Muirwood Abbey in Comoros, as the chief abbey of the realm. All the revenues from the other abbeys will be sent to Muirwood before being passed on to you, of course,” he concluded with pronounced enunciation. “This, you must agree, will help centralize the administrative burdens and provide more timely responses to the Aldermastons who cannot hear from you as often as they would like.” He smiled when he finished, nodding to her.
Sabine paced for a few moments, letting his words sink in. “Am I correct in assuming, Ely, that in your letter you also requested the privilege of becoming the Aldermaston of Muirwood to help carry this burden?”
Another flicker of a smile crossed Kranmir’s mouth. “Of course not, Sabine. I would never take it upon myself to do such a thing.” His voice became more sinuous. “But truly, when have you not requested input from us as to new positions to be filled? When have you not acceded to those suggestions as the Medium has moved you to do?” His eyes were like flint.
Sabine feigned confusion. “So you are not to become the Aldermaston of Muirwood?”
“That is not what I said,” Kranmir replied, holding up a single finger. “I would never take it upon myself. The king has seen fit to endorse my suggestion to you and seeks to implement it immediately through an act of the realm. The language of the act is quite clear that the revenues will be centralized through Muirwood to be dispensed as the Aldermaston sees fit to benefit this realm and others. He has chosen me to represent this new ideal in Comoros. I am certain you will see the wisdom of his recommendation in time.”
Sabine’s eyes narrowed. “You may be sure I will discuss it with the king in great detail.” Then her expression softened and her voice was pained. “Oh, Ely. Not you. How I wish you could see that gold is a poor substitute for integrity.”
Kranmir’s eyes flashed with sudden fury and his lips straightened into a firm line. He said nothing, but he could not mask the hatred in his eyes. “Is there anything I can provide to make your stay more comfortable?” he asked crisply.
Sabine shook her head. “Richard has been an able host. Thank you, Ely. That is all. I am sorry I could not respond to your messages more promptly. I can see how deeply it has hurt you. Forgive me.”
His expression smoothed, but Maia could see he was not mollified. “It is a small matter, Sabine. I am not quick to be offended.”
“I know,” she replied softly, seeing the truth hidden in his words. “I see the wound has actually been long in festering. Your predecessor . . . suffered from it as well.” She gave him a knowing look, which caused a little smudge of pink on his cheeks. Nodding to her reverentially, he turned to leave.
Richard Syon stood still, watching Sabine for instructions. She motioned for him to depart and nodded subtly, implying he should carry on the tour. He bowed gravely and followed Kranmir out of the room. The steward delicately shut the door, leaving the three mismatched Family members alone.
Sabine sighed regretfully, clasping her hands behind her back.
Maia rushed to her side, wanting to comfort her, but feeling heartbroken at the same time. “He is no Aldermaston,” she said.
Sabine shook her head, frowning. “He is still. I will need to replace him in Augustin.” Her frown deepened. “That will cause a rift, to be sure. He has already rebelled. Perhaps a schism is unavoidable. I hope not.”
Collier chuckled softly. “He deceives so gracefully,” he said with contempt. “What a gifted liar. I almost envy him that ability, except it made me want to smack him.” He chuffed to himself and shook his head. “And you named him to his position, High Seer? Was the Medium wrong to do so?” His eyebrows lifted archly, almost in challenge, but it was clear he truly wanted to understand her side.
Sabine met his gaze without anger. “There is a common misperception, Gideon. If the Medium knows what will come to pass, why does it choose people who will fail? It has been my experience that most of humanity is governed by greed, grief, or glory. The most difficult passion to subdue is pride. Surely you know that. What happens if a rotten apple is placed in a barrel?”
Collier looked at her curiously. “A spoilt apple ruins the barrel. Is that not the proverb?”
“Indeed. Before it is spoilt, it can be turned into treats, crushed into cider. But when it is diseased, the taint quickly spreads to the other fruit. If you dump out all the apples, my lord, and put in fresh ones, the taint will affect the new batch.” Her eyes narrowed. “There is something about the impurity that cannot be seen with mortal eyes. It requires scrubbing and patience to clean the barrel from within. That is how the taint is stopped. But at the time of the choosing, it is not spoiled yet.”