The Scourge of Muirwood (17 page)

“
Thou ar
t not from Dahomey,” he said astutely. “I know not where, but not here. Why seekest the Abbey? ‘Tis not safe for mastons there.”

Lia glanced down at him. “Why do you say that?” she pressed.

His nose pinched. “The Dochte Mandar. They be the ones who offer coin for a maston’s telling. Silver eyes and painted faces. They see into your heart. I shudder when I cross one.”

“
Who are these Dochte Mandar?” Lia said. “Did they come from the Abbey?”

“
Aye, they did. They say that all ‘un should go inside the Abbey. That the secrets should be known by all. In Dahomey, all the Abbeys are opened. And the Dochte Mandar taunt and prod and snare any lad or lass who wander by. Their faces were painted black and they were strange to be seen. Nowaday every person is staining their faces and arms like the Dochte Mandar. There are needles and black ink. Folk get poked and stung. It hurts, so they say. But thou are not painted with ink or shadows.” He looked at her shrewdly. “They at the Abbey are painted. They will see thou art a foreigner.”

Lia nodded, thinking about the predicament. In her mind, the Dochte Mandar were the minions of the hetaera. They painted themselves and others with tattoos to hide the
kystrel’s curse. Instead of it being a mark to separate themselves from others, they forced others to embrace the branding to mold them after their image. The notion repulsed her, but she realized that not having a tattoo would make her stand out among them. With offers of reward for turning in mastons, she would need to be very cautious as to who she could trust. She believed that with the Cruciger orb’s help, she could find her way to Colvin, Ellowyn, and Martin. However, it was only a matter of time before Dieyre went looking for his men and discovered that she was heading there. As they walked, she looked backwards constantly towards the forest, hoping to catch a sign of riders with enough time to hide themselves.

“
That way,” Jouvent said, pointing towards the shore. “The tide is gone now. Thou wilt get wet as we pass to the Abbey.”

They changed direction and followed into the wetlands which were spongy and soft and little bubbles appeared all along the sandy shore. Tall boulders loomed in the distance, offering a jagged edge to the horizon. The air smelled of salt and dozens of gulls glided overhead. The walk was slow going because of the shifting sand and they left a trail of pockmarks that slowly filled in and vanished. It would be difficult tracking someone in the sandy muck. At times the water was up to the cuffs of their boots, but it was always low enough to keep trudging and would disappear entirely as they reached little cusps of land. The walk was long and tedious, and Lia’s heart vexed her with anticipation. Each step brought her closer to him. Her stomach fluttered with nervousness.

“
There,” Jouvent said
, pointing. “Dochte Abbey.”

At first it looked like a boulder, but then she noticed the slender silver spike rising from the center of it. As they walked, the boulder became more distinct and she realized something she had not when seeing it from the Holk near dusk. Her initial thought was an Abbey built on top of a hill in the midst of the ocean. The ocean had receded all around it, exposing the land and sea grass. The side facing them showed not just an enormous Abbey jutting from the hilltop, but row after row of houses, walls, battlements, and turrets further down. From the rear she had seen forested slopes and cliffs. As they approached, she could see an entire village had grown up around the lower walls of the Abbey and it was thick and crowded and teeming with chimney smoke and people. There were darker blotches showing some small parks or woods, but the majority of the face was built up and defended. The Abbey was taller than a castle, more grand than any structure she had ever beheld. How had something so large and beautiful been crafted by men?

“
She is a beauty,” Jouvent said with a proud smile. “That is
our
Abbey. The finest mountain in the world.”

His words summoned a memory. Long ago, she and Colvin had followed Maderos up the Tor which overlooked Muirwood far below. The climb had been strenuous, though the older man had hardly struggled for breath. She remembered him telling her, quite cryptically, that there would be other mountains she would climb. To find Tintern Abbey, she and Colvin
had climbed a mountain in Pry-Ree. To reach Colvin, she would climb another one. A wave of emotions smothered her suddenly and she choked a moment.

“
Other travelers,” Jouvent said,
his face going from grin to grim. As Lia looked around, she saw others crossing the wetlands towards the great Abbey. “It is still safe to cross now. Best be there before supper, or the sea will trap thee inside. The inns will cheat thee. I must get back to mother soon. It is a long walk, but thou walkest well.”

Three dark dots appeared in the shimmering sand ahead and she realized it was three travelers leaving the
Abbey for the mainland. Her heart began to pound when she recognized the black cloaks and cassocks riding dark steeds.

Jouvent hissed through his teeth. “Dochte Mandar.”

There was no place to hide. The broad expanse of sand and seagrass left nothing for shelter or to not be seen. Lia gritted her teeth as they approached at a calm walk, in no rush to leave the Abbey. She tugged her cloak tightly about her, trying to conceal her gladius the best she could.

The Dochte Mandar wore black with white ruffs about their necks. The cassocks were black velvet and designed with silver trim, reminding her instantly of the Queen Dowager’s henchmen. Their boots were lined with white pelts and each had gems studding their belts and saddle harnesses. Swords were fastened to their belts, each with a large ruby set into a silver hilt. Their faces were mazes of tattoos, which disguised their features and drew in her eyes.

“
Thou art never to met their gaze,” Jouvent warned, staring down at the sheen on the water. “’Tis disrespectful.”

“
Thank you,” Lia answered and followed his example. The horses snorted as they approached and Jouvent stopped, his head bowed meekly.

“
Another set of pilgrims,” said one in strong Dahomeyjan. It was the formal speech she was used to, not the port speech. “They throng like locusts.”

Lia was not sure if she was supposed to respond or not, so she said nothing. Another answered instead. “Each soul must be saved. Regardless
of how petty.”

The first stopped his horse in front of them imperiously. “Well met, travelers. What village do you hail from?”

Jouvent took his cap and wrung it in his hands. “Vezins, masters.”

“
Ah, a lad from the port. Can you tell me, child, if the Earl of Dieyre arrived? The foreign lord?”

Jouvent nodded vigorously. “Aye, he be there.”

“
Excellent, excellent. Thank you, child. The Medium’s blessing be on you.”

“
He does not have the mark,” one of them murmured softly, but Lia heard it.

“
Indeed, he does not. Boy, have you received the water rite?”

“
No, masters,” Jouvent said, his face twisting with discomfort. “Not yet.”

There was a snort of dissatisfaction. “Why not? Why do you delay it?”

Jouvent wrung his cap more fiercely. “Mother. I am her only child. Her only help. She cannot spare me yet. But soon.”

“
Look at me.”

Jouvent shook his head, his body quaking with fear.

“
Look at me,” repeated the command. Lia could sense the churn of the Medium in the air. She could feel it swallow her whole, as if some great glass jar had clamped down on them both. She risked a glance and saw the one speaking, his eyes glowing silver.

Jouvent looked up at him, his face pale.

“
You must understand it is important. Believe me when I tell you that you must disobey your mother if necessary to receive the water rite. You have until Twelfth Night, child. Remember that. If you do not receive it by then…” He paused, his voice so somber it chilled Lia’s heart. “Your mother will regret it with great pain. Twelfth Night, child. Do not delay.”

Jouvent was trembling. “Yes, masters,” he whispered hoarsely.

“
Have you seen any mastons?” he asked next, his voice supple and inviting.

The coils of the Medium wrapped around Jouvent. She could see him struggling against it, fighting against it, but it was too powerful.

Lia pushed against their thoughts with her own.
Do not fear them,
she thought to the boy.
Do not fear them, Jouvent. They cannot hurt you with me here. I will protect you.

The Dochte Mandar who had asked the question suddenly turned on her, as if he had heard the thought. “What village do you hail from, lass?”

The full weight of the Medium slammed into her, nearly making her mind go black. There were three of them pushing against her, using their kystrels to swarm her feelings with the sensations of worthlessness, shame, humiliation, foreboding. It struck her so forcefully that she lost thought of who she was for a moment and could only stand there blinking, trying to remember her own name.

She almost said Muirwood. The compulsion to say it was so strong, the word nearly slipped out of her mouth. They would know of her Abbey, she realized.
Yet she also realized she had to speak truthfully.

“
I hail from Pry-Ree. I seek work as a cook at Dochte Abbey,” she said, fighting against the surging feelings.

“
You hail from Pry-Ree?” came a startled response.

“
It is true,” answered another. “She speaks the truth. She is from Pry-Ree.”

Lia swallowed, struggling against the feelings of unworthiness.

“
We have enough scum from Pry-Ree as it is,” said the third. “Go your way then. You are a foreigner, child. I can hear it in your accent. But if you would stay in Dahomey, you must also accept the water rite. Do it, while you are here. It will protect you from the Blight.”

“
Thank you, masters,” Lia said respectfully.

“
Have you encountere
d any mastons in your journeys?” he asked her.

Lia nodded. “Several. There are a few left in Pry-Ree. Most are in hiding.”

“
The mastons are the source of the Blight that comes,” he responded. “They must be sought after and found. If you find a maston, you must tell one of us. Do you understand, child?”

The Medium crushed against her will. She resisted it, but the weight of it was so strong she nearly revealed that she was one. “Yes, masters.”

The three horseman rode on, muttering amongst themselves as they passed.

Lia breathed deeply. It took several moments for her feelings to subside. She understood what had happened to Marciana better. A Dochte Mandar had manipulated her feelings. Even knowing it was not real, she could not deny that the feelings she
experienced were quite real. They were so powerful, she wondered if she could have resisted if more had been there. Their power increased with numbers, she realized. A lone maston would not be able to stand against many.

“
Jouvent, you must tell me this. What is the water rite? I have not heard of it.”

The boy looked terrified. “It is one of the maston rites. When the Dochte Mandar opened the Abbeys to all, they said that all must join in the rites. The water rite is one. They have a holy bowl and cup their hands and pour water on your head. For babes, they dip their fingers in the bowl and swipe it across their foreheads, here…” He demonstrated. “I did not know there were babies to be mastons.”

“
There are not,” Lia replied, sick inside at what was happening. “This is wrong. This is very wrong.”

“
I must get back to mother,” Jouvent said. “Thy way is clear to the Abbey. I must be past the forest by dark.”

“
Jouvent,” Lia said, stopping him. Her feelings still trembled from the power of the Dochte Mandar. “The mastons are not causing the Blight. That was a lie.”

“
I know.”

“
But he was not lying about one part. Something
will
happen at Twelfth Night. If I do not return to Vezins soon – if I am delayed – you must seek the captain of the Holk – the ship that I sailed on. His name is Tomas Aldermaston. You and your mother must be on board by Twelfth Night.” She gripped his shoulder and forced him to look at her. “Do you understand me, Jouvent? The Blight is coming and it will come by Twelfth Night. There is not much time left.”

“
Aye.” He smashed the cap back on his head and started back the way they had come.