The Blight of Muirwood

Lia seized his arm, staring at him intently. The Medium blazed in her mind and scorched her heart with the truth of it. “Brought to him?”

“It was after Pry-Ree’s fall. Not long after. He was the captain of the guard, remember? That night, I was roaming the Cider Orchard, stealing apples. There was a man with a basket. He was dressed like Martin. I thought it was him at first, when I saw the gladius. But he was younger. Wore the same leathers and hood. I followed him through the Orchard, quiet as could be. He took you to Martin, who was walking the grounds at dark. I was not close enough to hear everything that was said, and I could not understand it because they spoke in Pry-rian. Martin wept bitterly, but he called you his granddaughter. I understood that much and hid in the shadows as the other man stole off. Martin stared at you for a time, teasing you in the basket. Then he dried his eyes, turned all gruff and serious again, and went to the kitchen and gave you to Pasqua to tend.” He sighed deeply. “He did not claim kin with you. I never knew why. He let you be raised as a wretched, even though he knew who you were.” He gave her a long and serious look. “That is why I never wanted to hurt you, lass. That is why I regret having stabbed you and deceived you. I must ask for your forgiveness, however long it takes me to earn it.”

With that, he slowly rose and wiped his nose. “Someday, I would like to visit the mountain where Martin died and ask his forgiveness as well. Maybe you will take me there…someday.”

Lia was stunned. Her feelings swam and churned. But it was not right. It was not settled. There was something wrong in what Seth had revealed to her. Nodding to him, she also rose and they walked in silence back to the kitchen. Thoughts spun through her mind. She sorted them out, putting them together, one by one. As she fit each thought in the right place, she felt the comforting throbs of the Medium reassuring her. It whispered that her insights were true. The Prince had visited Muirwood and left Martin behind. Traits of the Medium were often passed on to the next generation. Lia had the Gift of Seering. She must have had it from her father. Her father, who had visited Muirwood and had walked the same grounds. He had visited the inner depths of the Abbey and seen the altar. She had felt his presence when she had first entered the Abbey. The memory of it had whispered over the intervening years. She tried to keep each foot straight. Tried not to walk too hard, to wear herself out, but her heart hammered in her chest. Her thoughts blazed and arched and struck each other, causing more sparks of insight in her mind. Her father had seen what would happen. Had known that a protector would be needed. Why else would he leave the captain of his guard behind at the Abbey when he would be needed most in Comoros? Unless he knew that the captain was needed to protect his unborn child. To train those who would protect the child. To train the child.

Lia shuddered and Seth asked if she was cold. She shook her head, unable to speak through the lump in her throat. The sky was darkening quickly and she could see the light from the kitchen windows. He did not question her again, but left her at the door and sulked into the night, likely wondering if she was harboring bitter feelings.

She yanked open the door and walked inside the kitchen. Pasqua looked over at her worriedly. “There you are. You were gone longer than I expected. Is…Lia, are you all right?”

She still could not speak. Scarseth had found his voice but she had lost hers. Pain throbbed in her leg from the hard walking. Ignoring it, she went beneath the loft and pulled loose the brick that concealed the Cruciger orb. The orb that was left with her as a child. Her father’s orb! She stared at it, already knowing what would happen. In her hunt for Ellowyn Demont, she had always pictured the girl in her mind. She did that with most people, thinking of their face instead of their name. Thinking of them as she knew them.

She stared hard at the orb. She was facing south. Dahomey was to the south. Find Ellowyn Demont, she thought fiercely. The orb glowed, the spindle spun lazily around once and pointed at her. Writing appeared on its surface.

Lia – Ellowyn – stared at it as the tears burned in her eyes. She knew it all as the knowledge flooded inside her mind and her heart felt as if it were on fire. It was the Medium, confirming her knowledge. That the girl sailing to Dochte Abbey with Colvin was not Ellowyn Demont – she was Martin’s granddaughter instead. A girl the Medium would not respond to. The truth crushed against her feelings relentlessly. Colvin had known of the missing Demont girl as a young boy. He had determined to be the one to find her.

And he had, without knowing it, when he was abandoned on the kitchen steps.

“What is it?” Sowe whispered, looking at her in concern, squeezing her shoulder.