The Void of Muirwood

by Jeff Wheeler

  “I do not know.” She stared down at their entwined hands. “When I left Comoros for Dahomey, we reached the shores that are still cursed by the Blight. I kept hearing whispers that said it was the land where death was born. Back then, I thought it was the Medium speaking to me. And it seemed to suggest that I would die there.”

  “But it was not the Medium,” Suzenne said, perplexed. “You wore a kystrel. It must have been the Myriad Ones who spoke to you.”

  “Yes, I think so,” Maia answered, but a nagging little doubt remained in her mind. “Whether or not that is true, I have suspected for years that I might die before my time. When I was younger, I learned to read, knowing that if my ability were discovered, I would be put to death. When I went to Dahomey, I feared I would not survive the journey. When I went to Naess, I believed the Dochte Mandar would kill me because of the mark on my shoulder.” Maia sighed tiredly. “I suppose I have been dreading it so much, it would not surprise me if it happened. The Medium gives us the results of our thoughts. Perhaps I have served my purpose by restoring the Apse Veil.” She frowned deeply, keeping her gaze lowered. “For some of the things I have done, I deserve to die.”

  Suzenne shook her head violently. “That is not true, Maia! You are not accountable.”

  “But I still carry the consequences,” she replied, and began pacing again and wringing her hands. “I destroyed an abbey and killed its Aldermaston. I cannot help but feel awful about it, despite the circumstances. And what of my marriage! My husband is not a maston. I wanted to marry one to preserve the lineage of my Family, as we were taught as children. Yet Collier and I were married by the customs of the Dochte Mandar. I have done everything wrong.” She sighed again. “I cannot kiss my husband because of what I am . . . and I cannot even say what I am because the Medium binds my tongue. And Suzenne, even if I were innocent, it might not help. The Medium did not protect my mother from dying. Nor did it protect Dodd’s father or his brothers.” She came to a stop before Suzenne and glanced up into her eyes. “Yes, I am sorry I brought you with me. I should have come alone.”

  Her eyes moist with tears, Suzenne reached out and hugged Maia fiercely. “I am afraid, Maia. But I made my vows to the Medium in the abbey. If this is how I can best serve, then so be it. Perhaps Dodd and I will join his siblings in Idumea tomorrow. At least that is possible because of you. And Maia, I would have come with you even if I knew that would be our fate.” She pulled away enough to look deep into Maia’s eyes. “You inspire me, and you have made me a better person by your example. Do not lose hope, Maia. If we die, we die together. Friends, if not sisters.” She punctuated her comment with a timid smile.

  Before meeting Suzenne, Maia had never had a friend her own age and sex. Staring into Suzenne’s eyes, she felt the warmth and compassion that had always been denied her. It was not hollow or false. This was true friendship. “Thank you, Suzenne. I am sorry if that is our fate, but I appreciate you more than you know. Having you here with me gives me the courage to face anything.”

  Suzenne smiled, then hugged her again.

  They sat at the one spare table in the room and spoke for hours after that—about Muirwood and how the Leerings had helped save the abbey. About the men they loved. And even though the cell was cold, they soon forgot the chill. For a while, it felt like they were back at the Aldermaston’s manor in Muirwood, talking late into the afternoon.

  Captain Trefew came for them after sunset.

  They had just finished their simple meal, so Maia assumed the footsteps belonged to their jailor, come to remove the dishes. But when the jailor opened the door, he was accompanied by Trefew and five soldiers, each heavily armed. The captain had a leer on his face, a look of delight and savagery that turned Maia’s stomach.

  “Bring them,” he ordered two of the guards near him.

  “Where are you taking us?” Maia asked, her stomach churning with panic.

  “Not to the gallows, if that is what you fear,” he answered smugly, the light in his eyes making her worry all the more. “Soon, though.”

  “Where?” Maia pressed.

  Trefew chuckled and motioned for the guards. Each was a salty man, very rugged in appearance—fair hair and blue eyes indicated origins in Naess. They wore the uniform of the king’s guard, but bore the slovenly appearance of dungeon keepers.

  One of them grabbed Maia by the arm, his grip painfully hard as he dragged her from the cell. Suzenne received the same treatment from another guard, and they were paraded down the hall in front of the other cells. Because of the sunset, there were torches—no Leerings—to light the way. She smelled spoiled meat and sickness, which not even the heavy pitch smoke could quite conceal. The soldiers marched them down the hall toward a cluster of six more guards who awaited them in front of a closed door.

  “Suzenne! Maia!”

  She jerked her head toward the sound of the noise and saw Dodd straining at the bars of his cell, his eyes wide with fury and concern. Manacles secured his wrists and ankles, and the metal cuffs jangled and echoed throughout the tower. His shirt was stained and scuffed and his dark hair was sweaty and tousled. He pulled against the solid bars, trying to achieve the impossible and shake them loose.

  “Do not fret about your lady friends,” Trefew said, pausing at the bars. His expression twisted with malicious glee. “That one is your lass, is she not? A beauty. We will handle her gently for you. Rest assured.”

  “If you touch her . . .” Dodd warned savagely.

  Trefew laughed in his face. “What, Maston? Will you raze the tower walls with your powers? Wilt me like a dried reed?” He spit in Dodd’s face suddenly, his smile melting into hate. “We will treat them kindly. The Aldermaston wants them checked for certain marks.” Maia stiffened, and a sickening feeling wrenched her stomach. “I am sure they will oblige us willingly enough. Now back in your corner, whelp.” He reached through the bars and shoved Dodd back with his hand. Dodd did not fall, for he was sturdily built, but his nostrils flared with rage and he clenched his hands into fists.

  The group of soldiers continued to pull Maia and Suzenne down the hall.

  “Take Deorwynn’s two brats into the girls’ room,” Trefew ordered some of the guards. “We will bring up the two gowns after they have disrobed. They will not be coming back up here tonight.”

  “Yes, Captain,” one of the soldiers said. He marched over to another set of cells near Dodd’s, where Murer and Jolecia hung back from the bars. As the girls were pulled out of their prison, Maia caught a glance from Murer, whose face was ashen and whose dress was of a far lesser quality than the last one she had seen her wear. Their eyes met, and Murer looked both humbled and pitiful.

  The guards at the end of the hall opened the door, and Dodd let out a groan of impotent rage, the sound of which was silenced as the thick wooden door was thrust shut behind them. Maia felt the mewling of the Myriad Ones all around them in the dark confinement of the corridor. The soldiers were grim faced and silent. Trefew walked ahead of them, his expression turning wary at every intersection. Finally he paused before a door, tapped on it gently, and then waited as the lock was opened from the inside.

  Maia glanced at Suzenne, and saw that her friend was white as milk with fear. Her own stomach twisted with dread as she imagined the humiliation they would be forced to endure. The door opened, leading to another hallway in the mazelike keep. Leerings provided the only illumination in the darkened corridor, and Maia was tempted to extinguish them all, but she decided not to risk antagonizing her captors further.

  “Here we are,” Trefew said with a hint of anticipation in his voice. They had turned a corner, and Maia was hopelessly lost. She did not recognize this part of the grounds at all. The walls were dank, the crevices riddled with scum, and there was a damp, musty smell in the air. The pathway led them on a downward slope, and several more guards awaited them below.

  “Cannot be too cautious,” Trefew said to Maia conspiratorially. “There are rumors the King of Dahomey has
spies at court. You will be moved all night to foil any attempts he might make to rescue you. But mastons like to go without sleep, eh?” He winked at her. “Consider it a vigil, my pious prisoner. This way.”

  The door was unlocked and opened to a small stone chamber with no windows. It was another cell, much more isolated and stark than the last. There was no cot to sleep on, no table to sit at—not even the smallest of comforts or conveniences. It was wide enough to fit a dozen men, but most of the guards waited outside. Only Trefew and the two who gripped her and Suzenne entered. The door was closed and locked behind them. A Leering, set into the ceiling, was the only source of light.

  Trefew walked across the room and then tapped on the stone wall with his dagger hilt. After a moment he whispered something that Maia could not hear. The stone swung inward to reveal a Leering on the other side carved to resemble a man in great pain. The eyes in the gouged, worn face glowed orange, and Maia shuddered.

  There was another room beyond, in which Maia immediately recognized Aldermaston Kranmir and his mushroom-shaped black hat. He was standing, for there were no chairs.

  “Come in,” Kranmir said smoothly, gesturing for them to enter. The room was lit by several lanterns and two Leerings. The thought of being in the same room as him made Maia’s skin crawl, and she started with surprise when she realized Lady Shilton was also present. Her cheeks flaming, her eyes puffy with tears, Lady Shilton looked abashed to see Maia. The grieving look aged her. Seeing the woman who had tortured her for so long caused a visceral reaction in Maia—a stab of fear, dread, and indignity.

  There was a dark, twisted feeling in the room, and though she could not help but tremble, Maia steeled herself to face what would come.

  After their escort released them, Maia entered first, followed by Suzenne.

  “You will not be harmed tonight,” Kranmir said coolly, “if you cooperate. If not, Captain Trefew and his men will compel you. Lady Shilton witnessed this same . . . procedure when her own granddaughters were questioned. Do not think she will show you any more favor than what they received.”

  Maia stared at the ground. She knew what was coming. Her heart panged with regret for ever having touched that accursed kystrel.

  “Remove your gown, Lady Suzenne. You will be examined first.”

  Suzenne shot Maia a look of abject terror and quailed.

  Kranmir’s eyes narrowed. “Captain?”

  “With pleasure,” Trefew said jubilantly, stepping forward.

  “Do not touch her.” Maia blocked his path. “I will help her.” She gave Kranmir a look of loathing, but he seemed unaffected by it. Suzenne shook with fear as Maia stripped away her girdle, then tugged the lacings of her gown loose and helped her remove it. She wore the chaen beneath, protecting her modesty, but Suzenne’s cheeks were beet red with mortification to have disrobed before so many men. Maia gathered up the bundle of clothes and turned to Kranmir.

  “Are you providing us something else to wear?” she challenged, before handing over the clothes.

  “Of course,” Kranmir said. He stepped forward, giving Suzenne a critical look. She trembled with embarrassment, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. His voice was smooth and dark. Maia could not see the Myriad Ones prowling throughout the room, but she could sense them, their mewling shadowforms snuffling about, greedy to taste the emotions in the chamber. “A kystrel,” he said with exaggerated sanctimoniousness, “leaves a taint on the chest bone. A whorl of tattoos that begins to rise up to the throat. You do not seem guilty, my dear, so that is in your favor. Lower the chaen slightly to be sure.”

  Suzenne flushed even more and tugged limply at the front of her bodice. There was no stain.

  Kranmir nodded and clasped his hands behind his back. “There are records, however, that an ancient Family in Dahomey was not afflicted by the kystrel’s taint. The only way to be certain is to see the shoulders as well. If you please, my dear. Or as I said, Captain Trefew will be only too eager to assist you.”

  Suzenne gave him a black, angry look. She nodded in meek compliance and carefully pulled down the chaen to expose her left shoulder, covering herself as best she could. Maia was furious, but of course this was all a playact for what would come next. She knew it with savage certainty. They were drawing out the charade to make their suffering more acute.

  “Thank you,” Kranmir said. “But just to be sure. The other shoulder too.”

  Suzenne obeyed and revealed her other shoulder, which was also free of any brand.

  Kranmir nodded with satisfaction. “Lady Shilton, you are my witness. So are these soldiers. Lady Suzenne Clarencieux is free of the taint. Now, Lady Maia. If you would submit to the same procedure, we shall examine you next.”

  His eyes looked into hers, and her suspicion was confirmed. Yes, he knew . . . he had probably known for a while. He nodded to Captain Trefew. Suzenne moved forward to help her, but the captain shoved her away. Maia cringed as she felt the hands touch her, yanking loose the girdle and tearing the sleeve of her gown. She wanted to strike out, to scream, but she endured the humiliation as he nearly ripped the dress from her. It was what he had wanted to do on that long-ago day when she had been taken to Lady Shilton’s manor, when her remaining privileges had been stripped away, as well as her clothes.

  Maia stood in her chaen, feeling the same awkwardness to be stared at by so many, but she lifted her chin in defiance and refused to cower. Trefew gathered up her gown in a heap under one arm and stared at her with vile emotions burning in his eyes.

  “Let me see your hand,” he said, gesturing for her right. She opened her palm and showed him the pink scar on it. He nodded, frowned, and then folded his arms.

  “Even the chaen does not conceal the kystrel’s taint on your breast,” he said sternly. “I am shocked that Richard Syon did not have you examined when you came to Muirwood. Did he know what you are? I cannot say the word, you know. Obviously a binding sigil is at work here.”

  Maia clenched her teeth as she stared at him in anger. She said nothing.

  “Your shoulder, please,” he said, motioning for her to bare it.

  Maia kept her expression as calm as she could. “I bear the mark,” she said simply, her voice quavering. “But I am not what it implies.”

  Kranmir smirked at her in response. “Show me.”

  Maia sighed, anguished, and slipped the chaen over her shoulder, exposing the hetaera’s brand. As soon as she did, a veil of blackness drew over her eyes like a cloud blotting out the moon.

  And then she was falling.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Gallows

  It was a struggle, terrifying and sudden. Blackness shrouded Maia, enveloping her in dark coils of smoke and suffocation. She felt a wrenching sensation in her mind and body, as if her soul was about to be sundered. On instinct, she battled it, refusing to yield to the vapor that threatened to stifle her. She groaned and thrashed, trying to repel the invasion. It was like fighting off an ocean’s tide. There was nowhere to anchor her feet, no way to shove against the amorphous waves that wished to bury her alive. She was drowning in the blackness of the Myriad Ones.

  A sudden light pierced the darkness, knifing through it like a glowing Leering. That blackness melted away from her, unable to cling, and seeped through the stones and crevices of the rock around her instead. The Leering in the ceiling was blindingly bright, and Maia discovered when she opened her eyes that she was curled up on the ground.

  As her eyes adjusted to the brilliance, she watched as Suzenne’s hand lowered from the maston sign. Her other hand was pressed flush against Maia’s brow. Though her friend was strained and weak, she had a look of defiance mingled with fear as she covered Maia’s exposed shoulder with the chaen.

  “You did that deliberately,” Suzenne said to the men.

  Kranmir’s eyes were wide as he stared at the two girls on the floor. His nostrils were rimmed with white. A look of fascination mingled with dread transfixed his face, and a single ball of sweat trickled down h
is cheek.

  “So it is true,” he whispered hoarsely.

  Lady Shilton was fanning herself, her eyes wide with unalloyed horror. She cowered by Aldermaston Kranmir’s side, trembling, groping for a chair to sit on, though none was there.

  Maia gave Suzenne a grateful look and tried to rise, but her muscles quivered and trembled, her energy completely sapped by the ordeal. Suzenne helped her sit up, hushing her gently.

  “What I did,” Kranmir continued, shaking his head stubbornly, “is prove beyond a doubt that you are a danger and a threat to the kingdom of Comoros. Who wears your kystrel?” he asked.

  Maia’s throat felt raw, as if she had screamed for too long. “I do not know.”

  The Aldermaston looked far from convinced. “Whoever it is, they must be found and destroyed. Did Walraven give the kystrel to you? Hmmm? Absolute treachery. Your father will be displeased.”

  “My father knew I had it,” Maia contradicted, trying again to rise, and failing still.

  Kranmir clucked his tongue triumphantly. “Please, child. His memory lapses have always been very convenient. You have given me all that I need to secure your father’s throne. The people are rioting to see you, and they will. Let no one say we do not give them what they want. Yes, I can see it now. There you will be, up on that platform with your shadowstain and shoulder brand for all to see. I cannot say what you really are for the sigil binds my tongue. But the evidence . . . the evidence will be seen with the people’s eyes. Your grandmother knows the truth. There is no need to lie and cover for her.”

  “She does know,” Maia angrily contested. “I never accepted this brand willingly. My father sent me—”

  “It does not matter!” Kranmir thundered, his voice hot with rage. “It does not matter why you received the brand. It only matters what you are. What you let yourself become. The people clamored long for Queen Catrin to rule. She was a true threat to your father’s power. But you . . . you were always the greatest threat. That is why he kept you so near him. That is why Lady Shilton watched over you. Did you know, Lady Shilton, that Maia had the mark on her shoulder?”