The Ciphers of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood #2)(85)
The Aldermaston also spoke of the hetaera, and Maia felt part of herself shrivel in shame as he explained the history of the order and their devotion to Ereshkigal. She knew much of it already from what she had learned in Chancellor Walraven’s tome, but she understood it much more fully now. And she understood also why Ereshkigal hated her Family so much. It was Maia’s ancestor Lia who had cursed the hetaera Leering, which had been a crippling blow to the order.
The hetaera of the past had chosen their fate, had chosen the brand willingly. Maia had not . . . and she now realized anew how wearing the kystrel had helped lead her down that dark path. The whispers she had assumed were from the Medium were not, but were whispers from the Myriad Ones. She shrank with growing horror when she realized the true impact of her journey to the lost abbey. It made sense to her now in ways she could not have imagined before.
Even the dirge of the Dochte Mandar reeked of the hetaera’s taint. She remembered the words she had memorized, words from an ancient tongue. Och monde elles brir. Och cor shan arbir. Och aether undes pune. Dekem millia orior sidune.
A world of noise . . . the woods sharing a single heart . . . the anvil of heaven below . . . a million stars yet to be born.
It was a mantra, a vow, a secret pact to destroy the maston order. A promise to fill the world with noise and chaos. She had never understood that before. A shared purpose and goal of revenge. The anvil of Idumea . . . a punishment as the Myriad Ones were cast out. A million stars yet to be born . . . the Unborn. Maia saw it now, saw that she had used the very words that would summon Ereshkigal to her. The woman in the mist, whom she had believed to be a spirit of the dead, had been the Queen of the Unborn herself. Her trickery and flattery at the lost abbey had completely fooled Maia. And when she had been asked to offer a Gift, she had sworn to give her life.
Maia shuddered at the gall of the truth. The hetaera were deceivers, and she had been deceived. She had been taught to surrender her will to the Medium. But not in an abbey that had fallen. Instead, she had unwittingly given her body for Ereshkigal to inhabit, and having seized it, Ereshkigal had branded her shoulder with the mark. They were bound together, Maia realized. It frightened her to consider what that might mean. As the sheriff’s men dragged her from the abbey grounds, she had felt the Myriad Ones swarm to claim her. She had not sensed Ereshkigal there. The Myriad Ones were satisfied inhabiting the flesh of swine or wolves, she knew. But they preferred to take over mortals.
“There is a new threat in the kingdoms,” the Aldermaston continued. “When our ancestors took the maston rites, they were instructed about the hetaera as you have learned tonight. When the first abbey was constructed in Assinica, the last Aldermaston had the Gift of Seering, and she added to the rite to help us face the new challenges of the day. She warned of the coming of the Victus.”
Maia flinched when the name was said, feeling her stomach tighten like a coil. She leaned forward, eager to learn more about her enemies.
The Aldermaston’s face was grave and solemn. “Like the hetaera, they seek to destroy the maston order. The Victus are the religious and political leaders of Naess. They rule through the principle of enmity, which means hatred and anger. Their beliefs are in direct opposition to ours; whereas mastons seek to calm anger and prevent violence, the Victus relish murder, and they renewed the kishion order to fulfill their ends. Such acts are abhorrent to the Medium, and we are commanded to purge the kishion from the realm. When a society or civilization embraces the Victus, corruption is soon to follow, as well as slavery. The Victus allowed the mastons to return and reclaim their lost kingdoms. Through subtlety and deception, they have glutted themselves on our labors and our industry. They have infiltrated all levels of our society, and some Victus have even attempted to pass the maston tests themselves to learn our signs and oaths. You must safeguard the knowledge you have learned tonight. Now is the time for you to enter the Rood Screen and make your oaths.” He paused, his voice heavy with portent. “So much rests on your shoulders, Maia. We will all continue to hold vigil for you. We do not know what will happen when the Apse Veil is restored . . . what we do know is that if it is not restored, our brothers and sisters in Assinica will be murdered by the Victus when the armada arrives.” He motioned to his wife and her grandmother. “We all sense that the armada has already reached those distant shores.” He gestured to her. “Rise.”
Maia did and followed them back up the steps and crossed the main hall of the abbey to a secluded section of the floor, where the Rood Screen blocked the way. The workmanship of the wood was impressive and intricately detailed. It was a barrier leading into the chamber where Maia would take her oaths. She swallowed, feeling the momentous nature of the night weigh heavily on her shoulders. She did not fear the maston oaths. Her studies of the tomes had prepared her for this part of the rites. It was the Apse Veil that worried her, yet she knew the Medium discerned her thoughts. She could not doubt. She had to believe in herself. She had to believe that Lia had seen her day, to trust that her experiences as a child and young woman had prepared her for this moment. Sighing, she squeezed and released her grandmother’s hand and then entered the Rood Screen.
Maia passed the oaths almost ridiculously fast. There was something about her affinity for Leerings, but as soon as she saw them all, carved into the seven pillars, she immediately understood them, their purpose, and the oath required to silence all seven at once. She knew from her reading that learners usually silenced one at a time. Then she bathed her face in the pool, lay on the bier, and dressed in the chaen. Her only moment of concern came when she had to remove her clothes to put on the chaen. The brand on her shoulder and the kystrel’s mark on her chestbone felt like ugly stains that did not belong in such a clean place. She did not look at her own skin, dared not, and quickly covered the signs of her past with the chaen. As she slipped the chemise on over it, an instant feeling of safety enveloped her, and when she dressed in the maston robes, it was as if a warm blanket had fallen across her shoulders. She felt clean and resolute, determined never to let the Myriad Ones infest her again. More importantly, she felt the Medium’s forgiveness and the approval radiating from the carved columns all around her. Each had a different creature or animal carved into it, the workmanship as exquisite as any she had ever seen.