The Blight of Muirwood

“That is what I do not understand,” he returned, bristling as he had many times that day. “We are not following their trail, but we are going to where they will be. That does not make any sense to me. How can a ball made of gold know where they are going to be?”

“I cannot explain it, for I do not understand it myself. It just works.”

“But how? It could be leading us anywhere. Or nowhere. How do you know it is not pointing the way to Dahomey?”

Lia looked at Colvin and saw the muted smile on the other’s mouth. The amount of doubt and disbelief in Dieyre’s voice…he would never have gotten the orb to work.

“Dahomey is south,” Colvin replied testily. “We are headed north.”

Dieyre looked exasperated. “I know that well enough, Forshee. What I am saying is you are putting all your faith in a trinket. A bauble. You do not even know how it works.”

Colvin stuffed another cluster of fruit into his mouth. “I do not need to understand it to believe in it. You do not believe in the Medium, so how can any explanation satisfy you? Let it alone.”

“I did not say I do not believe. Only that I have never had the patience for it.”

Colvin gave him a hard look. “You are welcome to find your own road.” He looked back at Lia and nodded gratefully to her, rising to his feet stiffly. He offered her his last shrewberry. “I will feed the horses.”

She stared at him pointedly. “You need rest.”

He nodded, not disagreeing. “Let me help first. I will take the third watch, if that is all right.”

“Weary, Forshee?” Dieyre asked with a smirk.

“I have not slept in three days. It was all I could do to stay on the saddle this long.” He touched Lia’s shoulder. “Do wake me, Lia. When it is my turn.”

“I will,” she promised, wishing the Earl of Dieyre would stop smirking at them.

* * *

Lia blinked awake in the middle of the night, shivering beneath her cloak. No one had wakened her and it was quiet, save for the creak of gnarled oaks and the hiss of the wind through the leaves. In the distance somewhere, a frog croaked. She glanced up at the stars to see the patterns and knew at once that it was well past her turn for a watch. Was Dieyre being generous, she wondered? Rising on her elbow, she glanced around and found Dieyre asleep, head pillowed on his arm. She moved closer to him and heard his distinct breathing and was sorely tempted to kick him sharply in the ribs for falling asleep on his watch.

Rubbing her arms for warmth, she moved around the makeshift camp, grateful to see the three horses still tethered. It would be dawn before long, so she decided to let Colvin sleep. She nestled near him, on the ground, so that she could look at his face in the dark. Being with him in the Bearden Muir was so different now. Before she had been such a child, whimpering with fear in the dark, easily upset by his gruffness and impatience. She was of little use to him once her fears had mastered her and the Cruciger orb stopped working. They were memories that shamed her. Here he was, asleep next to her, his breathing so faint and shallow. She yearned to smooth the hair away from his forehead but dared not touch him. A flood of emotions came with the thought and she almost reached out before catching herself.

Folding her arms tightly, she turned away from him and gave thought to their course. Knowing the terrain better, she had determined the orb was leading them northeast. She half-expected to wind up on the Bridgestow road, for that city was a two day ride from Muirwood – a major port town that traded with Dahomey and Pry-Ree. She had been there once during the year, on an assignment from the Aldermaston to purchase supplies that could only be found in such a place. But if they were going to Bridgestow, had the orb led them into the moors to avoid the Queen Dowager’s men? Surely they would not be able to travel as fast. Or was their quarry taking a different path to Pry-Ree, knowing that the major roads would be watched?

The hunter is patient. The prey is careless.

She wanted to be careful in their pursuit of Martin. He knew about her orb. He was probably expecting her to hunt after him. He would be cautious and deliberate. She knew in her bones that instead of hunting after Scarseth, he had made a foray into Pry-Ree and plotted to kidnap Ellowyn. Having her so close to the borders of Pry-Ree must have proven a temptation he could not resist, for all his loyalty to the Aldermaston. Or had he made up his mind after leaving? She thought back on the moment when he left to hunt Scarseth. She had hugged him with affection, and he had looked as if he wanted to tell her something, but could not. Was his betrayal festering in his mind? She was so disappointed in what he had done. Loyalty was something the Aldermaston treasured and expected. But surely he had justified the actions in his mind. If Muirwood were to fall, then in what Abbey in the kingdom would she be safe? Why not disappear into Pry-Ree where her own people would shelter her and hide her, even though she herself was terrified of that prospect? Lia clenched her jaw, shaking her head. The girl was probably beside herself with worry. Her greatest fear had just been realized. Hopefully Marciana was keeping calm and watchful, looking for a way to escape their captors.