The Blight of Muirwood

“He would be furious if he knew what Dieyre said.”

“Which is why he said it,” Lia pointed out.

“What do you mean?”

Lia stopped and shook her head in puzzlement. “It is as if he uses the Medium somehow, but in a twisted kind of way. I did not recognize it at first when I met him at the laundry, but he is strong with the Medium. Not in the way you were taught.”

Marciana’s eyes widened. “Do you think he has a kystrel?”

Shaking her head, Lia replied with a frown, “No. When someone uses one, their eyes glow silver. What I meant by the Medium is he pushes his thoughts at you. He says things to provoke you deliberately, as if he is planting seeds he hopes will sprout. Colvin taught me so much about the Medium, about how it was passed on to him by the Aldermaston of Billerbeck. Dieyre is using the same principles, but towards selfish ends. That is why he asked you to come tonight. He planted a thought in your mind which will fester and fester until you pluck it out or until you act on it.” She squeezed Marciana’s arm. “It happened to me when Colvin was hiding. The sheriff put thoughts in my head to influence what I did. He hinted that I was a Demont, that he knew who my father was. He told me what I most wanted to hear, not what was true. Dieyre is doing to same to you. Do not trust him.”

Marciana stared at Lia for a moment, pondering. Lia could tell she was wrestling with it. “You are right, Lia. He is using the Medium that way. He has always been a very selfish man. He can be so charming when he wants to be, or angry when thwarted or petty and jealous. He had no desire to become a maston. He mocked the very ideal from the first moment he arrived. He never wanted to become one, and I will only marry a maston. There was a time when I believed…that Dieyre loved me. His attentions are flattering. At first I did not heed Colvin’s warning. But Colvin was right. And so are you. You are much alike. You have a way of seeing things clearly.”

Lia blushed, glancing over at her brother, who was scrutinizing them with such an intense look that she winked at him for prying on their conversation with his attention.

“Do you really think he wants Ellowyn to marry the young king?” Marciana asked her.

“I do not pretend to understand his motives, other than that he accomplished his desire. He is trying to convince Ellowyn to grasp at that possibility, whether or not it is possible. And he gave you the impression that Muirwood is not safe and that you would be safer in Dahomey, the Queen Dowager’s country. I doubt that for some reason.”

“Well, he was not lying that it is a famous Abbey. Dochte is the Muirwood of Dahomey. The princes and princesses of every realm study there. It is a high honor to be invited. It is said that it was founded by Idumeans, that the Leerings left behind can do magnificent things.”

Lia was curious. “Like what?”

“You would have to ask Colvin. He is the one who told me. I am not sure I even believe it.”

“Give me an example,” Lia pressed.

“What he said was that king-mastons who study there become so powerful with the Medium that they…that they can command in Idumea’s name and that trees obey them. They can bring fruit out of season, for example. Or the mountains obey them or even the sea. Such power…”

Her words brought thoughts to Lia’s mind, thoughts so dazzling she could barely understand it. It had happened to her before as Colvin explained the Medium’s power. Ideas and thoughts so huge and full of possibilities that her mind quivered with their weight.

Marciana continued, “There have not been many king-mastons in our generation. Most never finish the training because of the responsibilities of state. The regents they leave behind to rule tend to be selfish and disinclined to relinquish power. Long ago, the kingdoms helped each other. Now, they squabble over territory, over privileges and honors, over coin and trading agreements.”

“I have one more question for you, Marciana. Perhaps you can help me answer it. What is a kishion? Do you know that name?”

She knew at once that Marciana was familiar with the word. She scowled, her face losing its shine and sparkle. “They are dangerous, Lia. A kishion is a hired killer. A man who murders for coin and guards the secret. They are the opposite of mastons in every possible way. Thank Idumea their kind are not allowed in this realm.”

“Thank you,” Lia answered, gazing at the door with a spasm of worry. “I need to see the Aldermaston.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:

Xenoglossia

The Aldermaston eased into the chair, wincing as he sat. A stifled breath of pain hissed from his lips, but he straightened himself and then motioned for Prestwich, who looked at him in alarm. “Leave us, but wait outside. I do not want us to be disturbed again. Thank you, my friend.”