The Void of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood Book 3) (26 page)

By midafternoon, Dodd arrived with his army, having pressed them hard enough to cover ground faster than the wind. They reached Comoros just in time to see Schuyler’s army disperse and to capture the opposing force’s fleeing leaders. Dodd found himself surrounded by men once loyal to his father, who begged him to pardon their offenses and accept their undying loyalty. His army tripled in size amidst the chaos.

Maia set down her goblet and watched as Suzenne and Dodd, seated to one side of her, stole a lingering kiss. Though she was happy to see her friends reunited, their simple display of affection loosed a twinge of bitterness in her heart. She would never be able to kiss Collier that way. Her curse prevented it.

The city was ebullient with the unexpectedly quick and relatively bloodless victory, which was unprecedented in the kingdom. Only eighty men had died in the melee, seventy-five of them from Schuyler’s side . . . and a third of those slain by Jon Tayt alone. The freed prisoners had followed Jon Tayt into the thickest ranks of their foes and bludgeoned the fleeing soldiers into submission. The city watch had used their knowledge of the streets to hem in the escaping men. Soldiers had quickly stripped away their tunics and tried to disguise themselves, but the locals all knew each other, so the defecting soldiers found no shelter amid the populace.

Kord Schuyler had been found with a bruise on his head, wandering aimlessly in a nearby street outside a brewery. He had been brought in chains to Pent Tower. The leaders had all been seized—not a single one had escaped into the woods. The enemy soldiers, upon hearing Maia’s orders to seize the ringleaders, had turned on their masters and voluntarily brought them to the watch.

Aldermaston Kranmir had been caught as well and suffered a similar fate, and though Maia intended to let her grandmother devise his punishment, she asked that he be brought to her.

Sitting in her audience chamber, on the throne, Maia watched as Kranmir was delivered in chains. His gray cassock was smeared with mud, and without his mushroom-shaped hat, his dark hair was disheveled. There was a puffiness around his eyes, a pallor to his cheeks, but his lips still quivered with defiance and hatred as he gazed up at her. One of the soldiers who escorted him looked affronted that he did not kneel, and nudged the back of his legs with a poleaxe.

“Do not force him,” Maia said, giving the soldier a subtle shake of her head. She fixed her eyes on Ely Kranmir and waited for him to speak.

Richard approached the throne from the nearby bench, arms clasped behind his back. He looked stern but not angry. He positioned himself close to Maia, as if he were ready to personally defend her from an attack.

“What would you have me say?” Kranmir asked in a challenging tone.

“Only the truth,” Maia answered. She could sense the conversation would not go well. She had hoped to find him repentant.

“The
truth
,” Kranmir said with a half chuckle. “Oh, I speak the truth. I am an Aldermaston after all. And I wear chains.” He rattled them mockingly. “You have authority, Lady Maia, but you are not my queen.”

Richard took a step forward. “Do you intend to continue speaking out against Her Majesty’s right to the throne?” he asked in a formal, neutral tone. There was no hint of anger or resentment at all in his countenance. “I have had reports already that you have not been silent about your perceived injustices.”

“Perceived, Richard? Perceived? My domain has been stripped from me. I have been hunted by the royal wolves and treated with indignities unbecoming of my station. But so suffered the martyrs of the past as well. Yes, Richard. I am an Aldermaston, and I will continue to speak the truth about what this girl really is. I will tell the world what I have
seen
with my own eyes! You are the imposter, Richard. You are her pawn. I pity you. There will come a day when everyone will know that Comoros’s queen is nothing but a—”

“Be silent,” Richard commanded in a firm, powerful voice. “By the Medium, I revoke your power of speech. I strike you with palsy in your hands. You will neither utter nor write another word until your heart is sufficiently humbled. You have forsaken the ways of the Medium, Ely. Her Majesty has decided that the true High Seer will oversee your punishment. Take him away.” He gestured to the guards.

Maia watched as Kranmir’s eyes widened with shock and terror. His jaw moved, his mouth opened, but no sound came out. A rattling noise followed, and she watched his hands begin to tremble uncontrollably. She turned to Richard, whose face was firm and unyielding, yet free of any rage. He gestured for the guards, and one of them grabbed Kranmir by the arm and escorted him from the audience hall.

“Richard,” Maia whispered in awe.

He looked at her mildly and shook his head. “It was not my will, Your Majesty. Even the Medium grew weary of his disrespect.”

Later that evening, Maia rubbed her finger along the rim of her goblet, feeling a sense of peace and wonder. Another disaster had been averted. Another danger faced and met. As she watched her friends and supporters mingle in the hall, she thought of the armada that was even now on its way to Comoros. Knowing about Ludgate’s defenses had helped her preserve the city. But she knew she could not count on them against the Dochte Mandar. Even with all her strength, she knew she could not overcome the combined will of so many men empowered with kystrels. While those around her were celebrating her triumph over her foes, she could only brood about the worse danger that was still coming.

Suzenne touched her arm. She had not seen her friend approach. “Look, Maia,” she whispered.

Maia turned and gazed at the men who approached her seat. Richard Syon was escorting the Earl of Caspur, whose head was hung low with apparent shame. His hands were worrying each other and were not in chains, which surprised her. Each of the others had been brought forward in shackles before being escorted to the dungeons of Pent Tower. She noticed the difference and gave Richard a curious look. Rather than reply, Richard gestured for Caspur to speak.

Never had she seen him appear so pitiful. She narrowed her eyes at him, wondering what he could have to say. Dodd coughed into his fist and leaned forward for a better look.

Caspur struggled to find his voice. She could see the wretchedness on his face, the misery. The humiliation. She waited patiently.

“Your . . . Your Majesty,” Caspur said chokingly. He struggled to master himself. Menacing and hateful looks narrowed in on him from around the room. He was a proud man, and his arrogance had alienated many. His courage quailed, but he persisted. “I . . . I know you will not . . . likely believe me. And if you send me to Pent Tower . . . I will accept it. But I wanted you . . . nay . . . I
needed
you to know that although I disobeyed you”—he paused again, struggling to contain his surging emotions—“I am not a traitor . . . as you may suppose me to be.” His hands formed into fists, the knuckles white, the tendons straining.

“Tell me why not,” Maia said calmly, giving him an encouraging look and a gesture to continue.

He glanced at her, seeming to be stung by her open look, and lowered his gaze again. His hands were all knotted up. “I disobeyed you. I thought . . . I thought your decision foolish and . . . too risky. I wanted to prove myself to you. I wanted . . . desperately . . . for you to value me and my counsel. I . . . my lady . . . I went to face Kord Schuyler to defeat him, not to join him.” His voice gathered strength. “When our armies were nigh each other . . . his captains seduced mine. He offered them rewards I could not match, and the men defected against my orders. I fled to warn you, but I was captured. When you routed them this . . . this very morning . . . I was able to escape and make my way back to the city. I met with your lady . . . Lady Suzenne . . . at the gate. She heard me plead my case and sent for the chancellor.”

With trembling knees, the Earl of Caspur knelt before her chair. “I beg your forgiveness for my pride.” Tears trickled down his wrinkled cheeks. “I deserve your punishment. I submit to it with no conditions. My actions can clearly be construed as treason. I swear to you . . . on the soul of my father . . . that I never intended to betray you. I disobeyed you, for which I am truly and deeply sorrowful. Had I heeded you, there would not have been such a panic . . . in your household . . . and I regret that most ardently. I await your judgment and beg your compassion.” He bowed his head before her.

Maia’s heart was moved at his speech. Could he be dissembling? Possibly. But he looked so beaten down, so humiliated, so sincere. She surmised that Richard trusted his repentance was genuine, else the earl would have been brought before her in chains. Suzenne had not forewarned her of this, for whatever reason. She glanced at her friend, and from the look of sympathy on her face, Maia could tell that she too believed Caspur’s tale.

The Earl of Caspur was one of the wealthiest men of the realm. She could almost sense the courtiers staring at her, eager to feast on the carcass of his possessions, which would be stripped away from him. He could lose everything, including his life, for what he had done.

Maia rose from the chair and approached the kneeling man. She knelt herself and took his hands with hers. The knots of sinews and tendons were still blanched and straining. She rubbed her palm across his knuckles to soothe him.

“My lord earl,” she said, drawing him to his feet. “I believe you, and I forgive you for your trespasses.” She clenched his hands and gazed into his eyes. “Come, dine with us.”

Maia signaled for a server to bring him some of the meal. She glanced at Richard, and the look of approval and respect she saw in his eyes put a lump in her throat. She escorted Caspur to an empty seat.

A murmuring sound filled the hall as the witnesses of Caspur’s reprieve began to talk and gossip and speculate about what they had just witnessed. Maia patted the earl’s shoulder and took note of the beads of sweat on his brow.

“I did not . . . I did not expect this,” he said to her, his voice low and unguarded.

Maia smiled at him. “I know what it means to be forgiven,” she answered.

“Well . . . yes,” he said, shaking his head. “But what I did was unpardonable. You could have stripped everything from me. I would have deserved no less.”

Maia left her hand on his shoulder and kept her voice low. “My lord earl, then what use would you have been to me? You just had a life-altering lesson in loyalty and obedience. I trust you more now because you had the courage to return and confess your folly. I do not believe you will ever disobey me again. And to prove my trust in you, I wish to keep you on my Privy Council. For I will need you and your loyalty to face the dangers ahead. I cannot spare men nor train new ones in the short time left to us. And I believe you fully when you say you will never do this again.”

He stared up at her eyes, his look soft and compliant. “I swear it on my soul.” He gritted his teeth. “When your father died, lass, you may have been the only one left in the kingdom who still loved him. I can tell already that your rule will be quite different from his. I will serve you to my dying breath, my lady. My queen.”

Maia smiled and patted his shoulder before returning to the celebration. Her heart was suddenly heavy. For though she had been able to pardon this one man, she knew she would have to deal with the traitors to her realm much differently.

We are Naestors first and foremost. We live in a land dominated by night, cold, and darkness. We have learned to be hard like ice, and that ice is strong enough to shatter mountains. There is great subtlety in how water destroys things, drip by drip. The first Victus taught his followers that to fight and win every battle is not a matter of supreme excellence. Supreme excellence consists of breaking the enemy’s resistance without fighting. Break their will before you break their bodies.

—Corriveaux Tenir, Victus of Dahomey

CHAPTER TWENTY

Warning from Doviur

O
f all the duties that Maia performed as Queen of Comoros, the one she enjoyed the most was done in disguise. It was Suzenne who had started the scheme. The ladies-in-waiting would each take turns leaving the palace to visit the poorest quarters of the city, distributing alms, baskets of food, and visiting the poor and the sick. They were not to use their names or wear fancy gowns. If asked, and only if asked, they would merely identify themselves as servants of the queen. It was not uncommon for little beggar children to approach two cloaked well-wishers—they always left as companions—and receive silver pence in recompense. What the little children did not know was that Queen Maia herself was often one of the cloaked young women. After learning of what her friend had instigated, Maia was determined to take part.