The Ciphers of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood #2)(82)

He snorted. “Of course you do.” He looked at her with contempt. “Even if the guilty suffer, you grieve.” He shook his head. “The king is coming to murder you all tomorrow. Know that.”

Maia scrutinized the scarred man. “Did he say this to you?”

He shook his head slowly and cocked his ear. “They are hunting for you. I must go. Can I persuade you to come with me?”

Maia shook her head violently. “I must remain. I am not safe outside these walls.”

“You are not safe here either,” he said scornfully. “Farewell, Maia. For now.” He gave her a look full of meaning. He took her hand, just as he had in the past, and gave it a light squeeze before walking off into the mist.

He had not gone far when Maia heard growling and snarling and padded paws crashing through the copse of oak. She recognized the growl as Argus’s.

“Argus!” she called. “Argus, come to me!”

There was a savage snarl, the snapping of teeth, and then a yelp of sudden pain.

“Argus! No! Do not hurt him!” She stumbled after the kishion in the fog, her heart racing with panic. The boarhound lay crumpled on the wet grass, whining in pain. The kishion was backing away from it, knife dripping once more.

“No!” Maia screamed, rushing up to the faithful hound. She knelt in the brush, the sticks jabbing her knees and legs, and cradled Argus in her arms as he breathed in spasms and pants. His fur was wet with blood. She hugged him close, tears flooding from her eyes.

“No! Argus, no! Please! Please—you cannot die! Please!”

The kishion vanished into the mist as Maia squeezed Argus tight, burying her face in the ruff of fur. She felt the hound stiffen and stop panting. Tears squeezed from her eyes as the blood dripped from her fingers.

“No,” she sobbed, breaking down as she cradled the dead hound in her arms. Her shoulders shook and throbbed.

“Argus!” It was Jon Tayt’s voice. He whistled for the dog. In the next horrible moment he was there, crouching next to her. “Maia!” he gasped, his voice choking when he saw her cradling the hound.

“Did you find her?” It was Collier’s voice. He rushed up next as Maia wept with despair, clutching the boarhound as her heart split into pieces.



It was midnight, the darkest part of the day, and Maia sat next to Collier at the small window seat in the Aldermaston’s study. Her gown was still stained with Argus’s blood, but she had managed to clean her hands and her face, though her eyes were still red from crying. The fire Leering in the hearth glowed orange, filling the small room with supple flames. Collier pressed her against him, stroking her hair as she stared into the light. Suzenne and Dodd were also there, faces drawn in silent concern and companionship, huddled together and sitting side by side, their hands clasped tightly.

The Aldermaston’s steward entered, his gray hair wild from the journey. “The Aldermaston is coming with your grandmother,” he informed them. “What a chorus of the bizarre tonight.” He walked over to Jon Tayt, who was pacing against the wall, his eyes bloodshot from suppressed grief. He laid a hand on the hunter’s shoulder. “I am sorry,” he offered in vain.

Jon Tayt shook his head. “By Cheshu, he was only a hound.” His face wilted with pain. “But what a hound.”

Tomas nodded wisely. “Strangely—Argus’s death coincided with some other things.”

Maia lifted her head, feeling wooden with fatigue. “What has happened, Tomas?”

“I will let your grandmother tell you.” He went back to the door and held it open for the Aldermaston and his wife, Joanna, to enter, followed by Sabine. Then he shut it and took his seat near the Aldermaston’s desk.

A sudden thought struck Maia. “Maeg,” she said, parting slightly from Collier. “She must be told about her father’s death.”

The Aldermaston’s wife nodded. “I told her, Maia. I was just with her a few moments ago. She was not asleep. She was holding vigil for you tonight.”

Maia started, her eyes surprised.

“All the Ciphers were awake,” she said. “We were all holding vigil for you tonight.”

Maia felt the threat of tears again, even though she had thought there were none left. She looked at Suzenne, who nodded and smiled at her.

“What has happened?” Maia repeated, staring at her grandmother. She looked weary and haggard, but her eyes were full of emotion.

“It is time,” Sabine said hoarsely.

Maia stared at her.

The Aldermaston stepped forward, coming to Maia, and took her hands in his. His eyes penetrated her, and when he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. “Something has happened, Marciana. The abbey is . . . awakening. There are Leerings within that have never responded before. They are all glowing, summoning, calling for you.”

Maia’s eyes widened as she glanced at Collier and then back at the Aldermaston.

Sabine came up and gripped her arm. “Some test was passed. Some event triggered this. I cannot make sense of it. Was it the blood of the faithful hound spilled for you? Was it you defying the Myriad Ones and not being overtaken by them? Maybe it was all the vigils being kept. Something happened tonight. I cannot say what it was. But all the Leerings in the abbey are glowing . . . even the hearth fires in the kitchen. The laundry. Every single one is showing its power. The abbey is singing for you, Maia.” She caught her breath, shaking her head. “The dead have gathered around.” Her voice was so thick she could hardly speak. “They are thronging the abbey. They are whispering. They are awaiting something. You must come, Maia.” She stroked her granddaughter’s arm. “Let us change your gown and put on the veil. It is time. The abbey will not forbid you now.”