The Banished of Muirwood(120)

“Come,” Sabine said. She hugged Maia again, and then the orb guided them into the thick gorse of the gardens and the hedge mazes beyond. They continued walking until a bark sounded and Argus came padding up, wagging his tail frantically.

“Oh, Argus,” Maia said, dropping to her knees and letting the boarhound lick her face. She nuzzled his fur, stifling her tears of joy and regret. Stomping through the grass after the dog came Jon Tayt, who looked at her with a wise, knowing smile.

“By Cheshu, you do look like a queen,” he said, coming up and mussing her hair. He turned to Sabine and bowed. “I brought her here as best I could, Aldermaston. Down, Argus, stop licking the lass’s face.” He shook his head, then gave a meaningful look to Sabine Demont. “Is my banishment over?”

“Not yet, Jon Tayt Evnissyen,” Sabine said. She looked at Maia. “The Evnissyen are the protectors and advisers of the royal Family of Pry-Ree.”

“I know of the Evnissyen,” Maia said. “I met them myself when I was in Pry-Ree. I did not know you were one of them.”

“That is when I asked Jon Tayt to protect you. I sent him far away, very far away, to wait in the mountains of Dahomey until you emerged. He has been patient and faithful. Jon, your duty is not fulfilled. You must protect her in an ancient land where she will study to take the maston test. There is much we must speak on, but not amidst so many Leerings. They have eyes and faces, yes, but they also have ears. Did you bring the gown from the ship?”

Jon Tayt nodded and unslung his pack. “Yes, the captain bade me to bring it,” he said, rummaging through to the bottom. There were small pots, sieves, knives, spoons—a veritable kitchen crammed inside. Sabine began to help Maia unfasten her kirtle. The rich golden fabric peeled away and Maia felt her heart sadden. She wanted to rip away everything that reminded her of what she had unwittingly become. How curious then, that she would be loath to give up the splendid gown and the jewels Collier had put on her. But she kept the earrings in her ears, wanting them as a keepsake to remind her of her husband. Her arms shivered in the cold air as the dress slumped to her ankles. She wore only her shift, and her teeth began chattering.

Maia noticed her grandmother staring at her shoulder, an inscrutable look on her face. Her skin was wrinkled and aged, her beauty faded but not lost. There was something almost angelic about her, an inner peace and calmness that made her lovely to Maia’s eyes. Though Sabine’s eyes were narrow, they did not judge. Her small hand rested near the brand on Maia’s shoulder blade, warm against her frigid skin.

“I am sorry, Grandmother,” Maia whispered, feeling the shame like a yawning chasm.

Sabine shook her head slowly. “You did not do it willingly, I know that. But you did it nonetheless. We often suffer the consequences of the choices of others. But our own are the most painful.” The fingers gripped her skin tightly. “There is a tome I must show you. The tome of my great-grandmother, Lia Demont. She is the one who cursed the Leering that branded your shoulder. The curse she laid on it was done by irrevocare sigil. It cannot be undone.” The grip firmed even more, Sabine’s eyes were deadly earnest. “Maia, because of the curse, you cannot kiss anyone. Ever. Not your husband. Not your children, if the Medium blesses you with them someday. This you must never do. The plague it can unleash is terrible. The Medium is strong with our Family. You must find a husband and pass along our connection with the Medium, just as you were born with it. That husband must be a maston. He must know the truth about you. But no one else can know. Only we few.” She paused, letting her words sink in. “Ereshkigal will not cease trying to destroy you. She wants revenge because of what Lia Demont did to the hetaera. You will always be hunted. You will always be persecuted. But you will be strong enough not to succumb. Your great-great-great-grandmother Lia saw you in visions, Maia. She told me about you in her tome. There is something you must do, something only a maston can do. Do you have it, Jon Tayt?”

Jon Tayt withdrew an oilskin bundle from his pack and began untying it. He loosed the strands and unrolled it. Maia caught the glimpse of pale fabric. It was a peasant’s gown and girdle, pale in color—she could not tell if it was blue or green in the dim light of the stars.

“It is a wretched’s gown,” Sabine Demont said, stroking the fabric. “A gown much like Lia wore growing up. Being a wretched taught her humility and meekness. Your experiences have taught you similar lessons. I think the Medium tests us. It tries our patience. You were not swayed by jewels or riches or any of the promises of vanity. Wear this as your disguise for now, Maia. Where we are going, girls are taught to read and scribe. Even the wretcheds. This is done in secret, at night, to protect them from the Dochte Mandar. These girls are called the Ciphers. You will become one of them.”