by Jeff Wheeler
Lady Shilton cringed away from the Aldermaston, her voice trembling. “I swear I did not!”
“She did not when she lived at your manor?”
“No!”
Kranmir looked vindicated. “She visited Dahomey. And she returned to despoil Comoros, to bring the Scourge back to this land once more.” He shook his head, clucking his tongue in mock disappointment again. “And the High Seer of Pry-Ree knew it!” he snarled. “She knew what you were. She hid the truth in a tome and sealed it with a binding sigil. Oh, my dear child, how can I ever thank you! All was lost at Whitsunday, but now all is recovered. The people will cry out in rage for your death when they learn what you really are. Of course, there is no heir, but perhaps Lady Jayn will bear a son. She is young still. One heir is all it will take for people to be satisfied. Thank you, Maia. The Medium has delivered you into my hands. Truly it has ordained that I shall be the new High Seer.”
His eyes were wild with the fervor of power lust, his lips quivering as he spoke his ambition aloud. He turned to Captain Trefew, who was skulking outside Maia’s vision. “Captain. She is under your watch. Move her and the other from room to room until dawn. There can be no mistake. When she dies in the morning, you will become an earl yourself.”
“Yes, Aldermaston,” Trefew said, his eyes as wide as a child with a bag of sweets. He came and yanked Maia up by her arm.
“It is selfish, yet I am glad you are here with me,” Maia said as they were forced awake, yet again, and marched to another location in Pent Tower. The corridors were thick with guards and torches. “You saved me.”
Suzenne smiled nervously and squeezed her hand with affection. They had been given new gowns to wear, simple servants’ attire with no fancy trims or edging. “When I saw your eyes roll back in your head, I truly feared you were overcome,” Suzenne said. “You started trembling and thrashing, and the room was . . . dark. The Medium told me what to do, Maia. It is still with us.”
Maia nodded and squeezed her hand in return. She was grateful the moment with the Myriad Ones had not lasted long. In the past, Ereshkigal had taken over quickly, and it had taken her hours to regain control of her body. Suzenne had drawn power from the Leering in the ceiling and the maston sign. She would not have been strong enough to cast the evil being out if Maia had been successfully occupied. But she was strong enough to prevent the takeover. If Maia had been alone, she knew she would have lost the struggle.
“I need you near me,” Maia said with relief. “Until the end.”
Suzenne nodded firmly, her eyes determined. “Until then.”
“The end is not far distant,” Trefew chuckled darkly from nearby. “The cocks will crow ere long, lasses. Somehow word got out yesterday that you were in Comoros, Lady Maia. We are suspecting a full riot this morning. Most of the king’s soldiers are still returning from the celebrations. But we have enough to hold the tower. Never fear that.”
Maia turned to look at him. “And what earldom were you promised?” she asked disparagingly.
“Any will do,” he replied smugly. “But I think the Earldom of Dieyre will be open once your marriage treaty is over. Always fancied that one.”
“It will bring you as much joy as it did its earlier ruler. That earldom is cursed.”
Trefew smiled slyly. “So much the better.” He gave her a look that revealed a mind full of darkness and corruption. She could see the evil of his thoughts plainly on his face, in the Myriad Ones dancing gleefully behind his eyes.
They reached their next destination, and the doors were unlocked. Several guards awaited them within the cramped cell and Trefew waved them out and entered after the last man left. He looked around at the small cot, checked the bars at the window to be sure none were loose, and sniffed the air, which was odorous, before gesturing for them to enter.
Suzenne and Maia did, and he went to the cell door, key in hand. He looked at her again, grazing her up and down with his eyes. “I wonder . . .” he said offhandedly. He paused for dramatic effect. “I wonder if those lips will still kill after your head is struck off.” His eyes wrinkled with perverse glee as he slammed the door and locked it.
Suzenne hung her head, sighing deeply. “A truly odious man.”
“Indeed,” Maia answered. “If I am ever queen, I will only allow true mastons to serve me.” She shook her head sadly and smiled. “It will lower the costs of the household, to be sure, given that there are so few left.”
“How can you joke,” Suzenne asked in amazement, stifling a laugh. “Look at the sky. Is it yet dawn?”
“I think it is,” Maia replied. “Can you see outside?”
“The window is too high.”
“What if we move the cot over?”
They both grabbed an end and arranged it by the window. The narrowness of the cell indicated it had only been meant for one prisoner. Suzenne ambled onto the cot and pulled on the bars so she could see better.
“It is dawn,” she said. “I can see the greenyard, but it is a ways distant. There are soldiers milling all around it and some coming to and fro with torches.” She eased herself down and then pressed her head against the wall.
“What is it?” Maia asked, seeing her expression change.
“I hope Dodd does not watch us die,” she whispered, shivering. “Do you think he will join us on the platform?”
Maia felt a stab of sadness. Would Collier be on the grounds? She could not imagine him standing still while she was executed. He would rush the guards and kill as many of them as he could. She had hoped that Simon Fox would have found a way to rescue them in the night, but as a wine merchant, what could he truly do but report the latest court gossip? Maia was struggling to keep her courage as the end loomed ever nearer.
Something clattered and slammed against the door of their cell, startling them both. Maia pulled Suzenne off the cot, and both waited anxiously as the noise quelled. A few moments later, a key entered the lock and Captain Trefew entered, his face dripping with sweat, his look now more wary than lustful.
“Come on,” he ordered gruffly.
“What happened?” Maia asked, startled at the sudden change in his behavior.
“Come on!” he barked.
He grabbed Maia’s arm painfully and dragged her out, motioning for another set of soldiers to fetch Suzenne. As Maia left the cell, she was surprised to see Captain Carew kneeling in between a few other guards, his face covered in sweat. He looked at her, his eyes panicked. Blood dribbled from his nose.
“Maia!” he gasped when he saw her. “Your father—!”
One of the soldiers clubbed him on the head with a sword pommel, silencing him. Carew’s tunic was spattered and stained, and she saw a huge bandage on his leg where he had been injured in the brawl on Whitsunday. She saw some other guardsmen had also been subdued and one man was obviously dead, his face twisted into a rictus.
She blinked with surprise. Something was horribly amiss, and her mind swirled to piece it together.
“This way,” Trefew muttered, yanking her after him. “Best get you to the greenyard now before there are more surprises.”
Her father’s captain had tried to rescue her, apparently. Her mind whirled with amazement. She scanned the bodies of the other knights, looking frantically for any sign of Collier. Could he be the cause of this sudden turmoil?
“Move!” Trefew barked, digging his fingers into her arm.
“What has happened?” Maia demanded.
“Nothing that need concern you,” he replied impatiently. Then, to another soldier awaiting orders, he said, “Keep the guards on every doorway.”
A soldier came running at them from down the hall, his eyes wide with panic. “There is a mob at the palace gates,” he gasped. “They are chanting to see her.”
“Let them,” Trefew sneered. “We’ll give them her corpse.”
“But if the king is—”
“Shut it!” Trefew interrupted, his eyes blazing with fury. “I have my orders from Chancellor Cr
abwell. Go, man!”
Maia looked at Suzenne in desperation, and saw the same startled expression on her friend’s face. Something was wrong. Something had happened. Something to do with her father.
“Tell me, Captain,” Maia insisted, stopping and wrenching against his arm.
He glowered at her, his eyes full of spite. “You want to be dragged to the gallows, my lady? Very well.”
“No!” Maia snapped obstinately. “Tell me what happened to my father.”
She saw him flinch at the word. His oily assurance was gone now. He was afraid. Desperate. When men were desperate, they were impulsive.
“He is dying,” Trefew growled abruptly. “Poisoned.”
Maia stared at him in horror.
“His last order was to have you killed,” Trefew whispered, his jaw convulsing. “Carew could not stomach it. Neither could some of the others at court.” He pulled her hand hard, bringing her face close to his. “But I can stomach it. For an earldom. There will be even more earldoms vacant soon.”
The feel of his breath wafting against her face almost made her gag. But she stared into his eyes, pleading with him to see reason. “This is wrong, Captain. I am the Princess of Comoros. Release me and I will show you mercy.”
His teeth clashed together, his lips twitching. “I do not want your mercy, lass. But if you promised me something more . . . interesting? Still, I think you will not.”
Suzenne gasped with outrage and lifted her hand to strike him across the face, but the soldier who restrained her yanked her off balance and she nearly fell down.
“To the gallows!” Trefew roared, pulling Maia down the corridor after him. As soon as they left the corridor and entered another, she could hear the tumult of the rest of the castle. Everywhere there was shouting, the stamping of boots, and the murmur of voices.
Other soldiers filed in around them as they marched down the tiled floor that was polished to a shine. They were still in Pent Tower, but they were now on the main floor, heading toward the greenyard. Maia’s heart was afire with emotions, tumbling and fighting inside her bosom. Her father had ordered her execution as he lay dying. Even at the brink of death, he would not admit he was wrong . . . he would not protect his only heir. It caused her so much pain, she almost felt like giving in to death.
I will obey the Medium’s will, she thought in despair. Whatever that may be.
“Clear the doors!” Trefew shouted. “Quickly!”
Another soldier ran up. “The Privy Council is assembling on the lawn, Trefew, but some are refusing. They are summoning their retinues.”
“Cowards. They are squeamish,” Trefew snapped. “It will be over too soon. They will fall next.”
The cavernous doors before them creaked open, and Maia saw the first flush of dawn in the sky. There were soldiers outside on the green. Her heart hammered in her chest as she was dragged toward the gallows, where she had watched Lady Deorwynn meet her fate the day before. Then a strange peace suffused her, as if a calming whisper were sounding in her ears. The Apse Veil was open. She had fulfilled the Covenant. No matter what happened now, she had done her duty to the Medium. Maia glanced back at Suzenne, who winced with pain at the grip the soldiers had on her arms. She tried to give her friend a comforting smile.
Suzenne looked back at her, her eyes blinking back tears, and nodded.
Another soldier ran up with a drawn sword. “The mob is trying to force the gate,” he shouted.
“Who is guarding it?” Trefew asked. He glanced around at the soldiers alongside, easily more than a dozen men. The numbers gave him confidence. “If any man tries to help them get through, kill him!”
“We have pikemen ready in case the mob breaks down the gate. They are tradesmen mostly, not soldiers. But they fill the streets. Some are even trying to climb the walls.”
Trefew looked bewildered at that, as if he had not expected such effort on Maia’s behalf. “They are all mad! Have the pikemen stab through the portcullis. Start killing them now rather than waiting for them to burst through.”
“Aye, Captain,” the soldier saluted, and rushed off.
The gallows were small, but a growing crowd had assembled before them. Foremost was the Earl of Forshee, who was on horseback and surrounded by men wearing his livery. Of course he was present. Some of the witnesses were female. One man in the crowd was shouting at Forshee angrily. Then she recognized him from the day before. It was the Earl of Caspur.
As they marched, Maia saw another man come running up. They reached the crowd, and the assembled parted like a curtain, opening a path to the threshold. Maia swallowed, still feeling a strange inner calm despite the hurricane of tumult about her.
The page handed the Earl of Forshee a scroll. He took it, snapped off the caps, and then quickly scanned the content of the message. His face contorted into a frown, but he nodded for the boy to run off.
“What does it say?” Caspur demanded.
They were close enough now to hear what was being said.
“The king is dead,” Forshee muttered. “That is all. Crabwell issues his first order. The princess must die.”
“No!” Caspur shouted, seeing Maia and her escorts for the first time. His eyes widened with outrage.
“Go back to the castle if you are not man enough to watch,” Forshee sneered. Caspur’s face was white as chalk, but he backed away from the earl with an anguished look.
Forshee’s horse jumped a bit. He turned to Trefew and gave him a curt nod. “No speeches. This must be quick.”
Trefew pulled Maia to the wooden stairs, followed closely by the men who were grappling with Suzenne, and the two girls were forced up onto the platform. There was a growing rumble of noise from one side of the castle grounds, but they would arrive too late, Maia was suddenly certain of it. Her hair streamed across her face as the wind suddenly breathed across the greenyard. She tried to smooth it away, but Trefew’s grip on her arms barred her from even that small comfort.
Maia was escorted to the block at the center of the platform. Glancing up, she could see the tower cell where she had been imprisoned. She could see people at the windows, but it was too distant to clearly see Murer’s and Jolecia’s faces. Maia struggled to envision a last image of Collier before crossing the mysterious chasm to Idumea, but there was not time. Her body was thrust forward toward the executioner’s block.
Then she turned to look at the executioner, whose hands rested on the pommel of a giant sword so sharp its blade pierced the wood of the platform. He looked solemn and impressive and frightening under the leather hood.
The bottom of his mouth was visible, along with a telltale scar. She looked into his blue eyes, his deadly blue eyes. His shape, his size—she knew without a doubt it was the kishion.
He smiled when she recognized him.
There were some mastons who remained hidden in Assinica. Some poor souls who hoped to use persuasion to thwart us. They were meek, to be sure. They feared not torture nor death. Courage is often the balm of the fool. I ordered their remains to be hung by chains from the steeples as a witness.
—Corriveaux Tenir, Victus of Dahomey
CHAPTER FIVE
Kishion
Kneel,” Trefew ordered in Maia’s ear, then gave her another shove toward the block. She stumbled but managed to right herself and take another look at Suzenne—maybe her last. Suzenne’s cheeks were stained with tears, her fingers knotted together in a mute prayer. She was pale, but she nodded at Maia and did not look away from her. Two guards still restrained her friend; Maia was now free. The wind swept across her face again, sending strands floating before her eyes. She smoothed them away this time, facing the kishion with the greatsword.
A memory struck her at that moment. After their escape from Collier’s army, she had entreated him that someday he might be called upon to fulfill his duty to kill her. She had told him that she might ask it of him. She looked into those emotionless blue eyes. But no, they were not void of emotion anymore. He stare
d at her with obvious feeling, but how could she even describe what she saw in his eyes? Triumph? Glee? His smile made him look uglier, if anything, made her want to recoil. Why was he smiling at her? Was he so evil that killing her brought him joy? And yet, he had saved her life at Muirwood Abbey. If only she knew where his true loyalties lay.
Maia took the final steps to the cold plinth. She cupped her hands against her chest and then knelt on the planks. She shivered uncontrollably, but she did not flinch. Glancing down at the crowd, she saw a mixture of expressions there. Sadness, greed, placid unconcern, misery. All eyes were upon her. And there was Forshee, his expression an interplay of hatred and victory. The government was toppling, the stones just starting to crash down in the heath, and he hoped to come out ahead.
“Do it!” Trefew ordered savagely.
The kishion stepped forward. Her heart was brim with emotions as she heard and felt the distinct thud of his boots. At least the Apse Veil had been opened, she reminded herself again. Her mind wandered to those poor souls from Assinica, who would come to this land for shelter, only to find themselves in an evil kingdom that despised mastons. She thought of her grandmother and of Collier, wishing she had been permitted to say good-bye.
Then Maia lowered her head and swept the dark hair away, exposing the nape of her neck. The kishion’s shadow passed over her. She could hear his breathing.
“Do you forgive me of my office?” he asked her gruffly, his voice so familiar. They had wandered through the cursed shores of Dahomey together. Of the protectors who had traveled with her, he alone had survived the journey to the lost abbey. He had protected her from Corriveaux and his Dochte Mandar. He had nearly died at a mountain crossing in a confrontation with the Fear Liath.
“I am content to die,” Maia whispered, refusing to meet his gaze. Her head dipped lower.