The Banished of Muirwood (12 page)

“And what if the king’s men do not come?” asked a familiar voice.

Maia had not seen him approach, but she instantly recognized Feint Collier’s voice, and it startled her. He put his arm around the innkeeper’s shoulder, emphasizing the difference in their heights.

“You know as well as I do, Master Collier, that I am paid for the rooms whether they are used or no. Had a sack of coins left with me earlier this day, in fact. Was not expecting you for several days. You are early.”

“A change in my plans,” he replied with a broad smile that seemed to be directed at Maia. “If the rooms are to sit empty unless the king’s men arrive, may not she be loaned one? Let her have a room, Clem. She can have mine. I would just as soon sleep in the stables. You know that.”

Maia felt a flush of pleasure, which she stifled immediately, and shook her head. “We will not be staying. I was only asking out of curiosity. The Gables is a lovely inn, Master Pryke.”

Feint Collier clapped the innkeeper on the back. “When my lady commands, I must obey. You have a good stable lad, Clem. He knows how to treat a horse. Here is an extra crown for him. Who are the musicians? Where do they hail from?”

“From Pinnowe,” the innkeeper said. “Good music always draws in a crowd. Best to you all.” He gave them a warm smile and a nod, then left.

As soon as the innkeeper faded into the crowd, Feint Collier’s expression changed, turning deadly serious. “The village in the mountains was massacred,” he whispered through clenched teeth.

Maia felt a jolt of queasiness. “It was Corriveaux,” she whispered. “He was traveling with soldiers who wore the king’s uniform.”

Raw fury flooded his gaze. “When the king hears of this . . .” he said. “I swear they have gone too far. Many souls escaped in the dark and fled to Roc-Adamour. They said it was the Dochte Mandar who did it. Like in olden times. They came from across the mountains, from the cursed lands. They were chasing someone.” He looked at her pointedly.

“This you already know,” Maia said. Her stomach felt like a hive of ants. “Why are you here?”

“Maybe I wanted to see you again,” he answered quietly, “before you disappear forever.”

Maia swallowed, her insides buzzing. “I
must
disappear,” she whispered. “No one who is near me will be safe. We must go.” The kishion scooted his chair back and rose, his eyes full of malice as he gazed at the intruder at the table.

Collier shook his head. “I have thrown them off your trail,” he said. “They are searching Roc-Adamour still, looking from house to house and stopping every person attempting to leave. They believe you are still
there
.” He gave her a coaxing smile. “I bought you time, my lady. No need to flee.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “But we are not safe
here
either.”

“Sit,” Collier said, swinging his head to the kishion. “Finish your meal at the least. You can have my room. It is as I said, I will sleep in the stables or here in the common room on the floor.”

Maia shook her head. “You have already done too much,” she said. “We returned the horses as promised, but you cannot help us without endangering yourself. Even now, you are taking a great risk.”

“I know,” he answered with a smile. “I cannot help it, I was born to wager the odds. I
want
to help you.”

Maia wished Jon Tayt would return quickly. She wanted to leave. She wanted to bed down in the forest, away from the music and the cheese and the warmth—away from this handsome man who had left a flower in her saddlebag. Collier made her wistful for something she knew that she could never have. At least not while her father governed her life.

“You must not,” she said, shaking her head.

He scowled, frustrated by her refusal. “Very well. Then give me one boon at least.”

She sighed. “I will not tell you my name,” she answered stubbornly.

He shook his head, his expression serious, his tone intimate. “Not that, lass. Just give me one thing.”

She felt conflicted and anguished. Where was Jon Tayt? A prickle of uneasiness sent her body into a panic. “And what is that?”

“A dance,” he said, extending his hand to her. “If you must go tonight, then give me this memory to take with me. Please, my lady. Dance with me.”

In my day, the Dochte Mandar had a saying, which I believe has survived centuries in their tomes: Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of your opponent’s fate. The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.

—Lia Demont, Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey

CHAPTER TWELVE

Surrounded

I
t was not the maypole dance, for there was not a maypole in the common room. It was a ring dance, like the ones they did at court, and the mix of sounds from the lute, flutes, coronets, and box bells sent a giddiness through the air that only added to Maia’s nerves. His hand was warm and calloused and full of strength.

Maia was much shorter than Feint Collier, and she had to look up to see his face. His smile told her that he was pleased with himself for having finally claimed her. She steeled herself against that smile, wanting the tune to be over with so she could escape into the night. There was a dreadful apprehension in her stomach, but it was mingled with the flutterings of dancing for the first time since she had come of age.

“You have me to yourself at last,” Maia said to Collier as they twirled around the slow-moving circle. “What do you have to say?”

“I was hoping to enjoy the moment a bit longer before ruining it with words.”

“Are you such a poor speaker then?”

He shook his head. “I love conversation. It is only that with you, certain topics are clearly forbidden. Such as your name.”

“Yes,” she said.

“So is your origin. Your Dahomeyjan is flawless, but you are not from this land. You certainly have a
gift
with languages.”

She cocked her head at him. “A curious word to use, Master Collier.”

“I used it deliberately.”

“You said you are not a maston,” she said to him, dropping her voice lower. “Yet you use such words and even quote from the tomes.”

“I am not a maston. Are you?”

Maia felt the probing nature of the question. She shook her head.

“I thought not,” he said with a subtle nod. “My father was, yet he sired a wretched and would not claim me. I do not think well of mastons.”

They separated and went down the line, exchanging partners three times before meeting up again. The time they spent apart passed in a blur. His hand grazed hers. So warm. His deep blue eyes were inquisitive.

“I have another question for you, my lady,” he said, gazing down at her with a half smile.

“I will answer it if I can.”

They twisted and went the other way as the circle reversed its order. Her feet felt light and easy—the dance was slow enough that it was not difficult to keep up with the changes.

“You are traveling with a kishion. Is he a threat to you, or a protector?”

A shiver of cold shot through Maia’s stomach. “Why do you ask that?”

“Come, my lady. He has a dark look. I sense you are in danger with him. Even now, he is watching us too keenly. Will he try to kill you if you leave with me?”

Maia looked at him in surprise. “I am not leaving with you.”

“That came out wrong. Let me try again. It is difficult talking with a murderer staring at you so intently.”

“Staring at me?”

“No, at me! I know you do not trust me, but you trusted me enough for this dance. Thank you. What I want to know is if you can dismiss him. Did
you
hire him for protection or did another?”

Maia swallowed, needing to choose her words carefully. “I am with him by choice, Master Collier. If you tried to take me from here by force, he would hurt you . . . not me.”

A proud little smile twitched on his mouth. “He could try. How good can such a man be to have earned so
many
scars?”

Maia looked at him in concern. “Do not provoke him, I beg you. He has seen twice as many winters as you or I.”

“I do not intend to, my lady. I fear more for your safety than my own.”

“Very generous. But we must depart this evening. When Jon Tayt returns, we will go. Thank you for the horses.”

“It is my pleasure to help you,” he said, dipping his head graciously. “Where are you bound?”

She smiled and shook her head.

“Another forbidden question. Let me try again. Do you play any instruments? You keep staring longingly at the minstrels.”

“I love music.”

“Ah, I would love to hear you play!” He nearly crowed with delight.

“Another time perhaps,” Maia said, shaking her head.

“Then you concede there is a chance we may meet again?” he quipped. “That restores my faith.”

“That is not what I meant,” she said, trying not to quash his feelings.

“You injure me again, my lady,” he said with a sigh. “You will not say where you are from. You will not tell me where you are bound. How will I find you to hear you play?”

She bit her lip, enjoying his teasing banter—probably too much. She needed to keep her thoughts clear. He was trying to trick her into revealing too much.

“If the Medium wills it, it will happen,” she said softly.

He frowned at that.

The song came to an end, and she dropped in a curtsy as he delivered a stiff bow. There was no sign of Jon Tayt and she cursed the hunter’s name under her breath.

“One more dance,” Feint Collier said. “Your guide has not returned. Favor me with one more dance.”

She looked at him, at the strange mixture of emotions on his face. He seemed almost alarmed, his blue eyes brooding with unsaid words. “Please. Just one more.”

A strong surge of warring emotions threatened to topple her control. She had enjoyed dancing and felt slightly light-headed at the thrill of it. Here was a handsome man giving her attention in such an obvious and flattering way. But she was conflicted by the strong feelings of unease brought on by the belief—nay, the knowledge—that his intentions were not as honorable as he proclaimed. He had purposely separated her from her companions more than once. Yet she was completely lost in this situation, having never been the pointed focus of a man’s attentions.

She looked around the room, feeling it spin slightly around her. Where was Jon Tayt? They needed to leave, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Just one more,” she said, feeling a sensation of guilt even as she said it. The prickle of apprehension she felt about accepting his offer was reason enough to rebuff him, yet there was a swelling sense of rebellion inside her as well. She had been denied even the simplest of pleasures since coming of age. Her father had allowed her to attend his court for a time, but while she had been outwardly included in the royal social circle, no one had ever dared ask her to dance. Most of the time, men were afraid to even speak with her.

“The newest dance at court is called the Volta,” he said. “Do you know it?”

Maia looked at him and shook her head no. “I do not know the latest court dances.”

“Then I will teach you,” he said with a bow. He turned to the musicians and spoke loudly. “Play a galliard, but at twice the usual tempo.” He began clapping his hands sharply. “That will work.” The music twitched in the air, bringing with it a lively feel. The other dancers cleared away, which brought Maia and Collier to the attention of everyone in the room. The scrutiny made her wince inwardly, but it was too late to excuse herself without attracting even more notice.

Collier did not give her a chance to escape the situation.

“Side by side,” he said, taking her hands and bringing her next to him. “Gather around.” This last was addressed to the others. “Watch first, and then copy us. The Volta.” He began a series of intricate steps, similar to a Pry-rian expression she had seen before but never learned. It took her several tries, but then she discovered the complexity and unraveled it.

“Well done,” he praised, bringing her forward and then backward, repeating the movements. “Now a broader circle.” He took her left hand in his and placed his right on the small of her back, guiding her around in a larger circle. Some of the other young dancers joined them, their faces beaming with the pleasure of learning a new court dance. Some were still struggling to do the footwork from the earlier part, but others were catching on.

“You are a wonderful dancer, Master Collier,” she said.

“Such things are necessary at court, but it helps to have an accomplished partner,” he replied, deflecting the praise. “This is not your first galliard, I think. Now for the twirl. Legs straight and push off my shoulders.” Suddenly his hands seized her by the waist and he lifted her high in front of him. She pressed her hands against his shoulders and pushed as he twirled her around before setting her back down lightly. “Two more . . . ready and lift!”

She flew through the air again, her stomach gliding in her throat as he twirled her about a second time. It was exhilarating. And she heard several of the girls gasping with delight as their partners lifted them too.

“Now for the third one,” Collier said, beaming at her as he raised her into the air again, causing her hair to fan out around her. She was too breathless to speak when he set her down.

“Last part,” he said slyly, bringing up his elbow. He gestured for her to do the same and struck hers opposite with his. “Then back around again, the other way.” She mirrored his movements, their forearms blocking each other as they turned and danced. Then his arm was around her waist and he led her to finish the circle.

She was flushed and giddy with pleasure by the end of it.

“Again!” he shouted, clapping fiercely, sending a feeling of pure pleasure shooting through her.

“My lady,” came a warning voice at her ear. It was Jon Tayt. She turned and saw the look in his eyes, a smoldering brew of anger and panic. Argus growled next to him, pale fur glistening in the torchlight. “The king’s men rode into town just now.”

Her heart lurched. “We must go,” she said.

“I thought the same,” he said through clenched teeth. “Then I found you dancing. We must make haste!”

She did a half curtsy to Feint Collier. “Thank you, sir.”

He stared at her intently, as if he could read through her if only he tried hard enough. “What concerns you? The soldiers? They will not care who is dancing.”

“I must go,” she insisted. The kishion had joined them now, his face a mask of anger and menace.

“The king’s camp is leagues away, if not more,” Collier replied, brushing it off. “There is no need to worry.”

“We left the king’s horses in the stables as you advised,” Jon Tayt replied. “Someone will recognize the brand. We must go. Now!”

“Take the south road then,” Collier said. “The riders come from the north. You remember the password in either case. Go.” He stared hard at Maia and then bowed. “Thank you, my lady. I will treasure the memory.”

“Thank you, Master Collier,” she replied. The kishion handed her a pack and she slung it over her shoulder. They walked briskly to the rear doors of the inn, and the hunter opened them. She glanced back into the common room and saw Feint Collier standing there, arms folded, watching her leave. He had a hard look on his face. He nodded to her once.

She nodded in farewell and stepped into the night.

When the door shut behind her, Jon Tayt’s words were sharp and angry. “My lady Maia, you have been amazingly foolish. Ach,” he half growled, “another moment and we would have been trapped in there. At least twenty men rode into town wearing the king’s livery, swords, and hauberks. Soldiers, my lady. The army is nearer than Collier reckons.”

She swallowed her words and followed them into the night, but she soon noticed they were going east, not south.

“He said the south road—”

“Aye, and because
he
said it, I will not take it. I warned you from the first
not
to trust him.”

“He has helped us so far, Jon Tayt.” She felt herself bristling with defensiveness.

“He is the king’s man,” replied the hunter. “The Mark does not suffer traitors, and would not even make an exception for his half brother. I was picking up supplies and keeping an ear open for news when I learned he was here, which alarmed me. He clearly followed us. He is marking our trail to make it easier for the king’s hunters to capture us. Take the south road. By Cheshu!”

She did not tell him about the flower in her saddlebag. She suspected Feint Collier was offering his assistance for another reason altogether, and it flattered her. But Jon Tayt was wise to be so distrusting. She respected him even more for it.

“I was only waiting for you to return,” she answered, trying to keep the peevishness from her voice. “I knew we needed to leave.”

He snorted and spat. “I had taken you for a sensible woman. A rare thing to find, I can tell you that. But I presume you lost your head when the music started, as most women do.” He grumbled to himself. “By Cheshu, dancing with the king’s collier.”

Still, Maia did not regret it. Could not regret it, even if he were right about the nature of Collier’s attentions. The panic she had felt began to subside as the stars twinkled into view in the dark sky above them. In truth, she wished she could have stayed back at the inn, enjoying the cheese and broth. She would have danced all night had she been allowed. All of the years she had practiced and learned the steps were not wasted. She would remember this night, this taste of a life that had been taken from her.

Take the north road.

The whisper in her mind startled her. A sliver of silver moon emerged from the tips of the pine trees at the edge of the town. As she stared at it, her heart burned with emotion from the dance at the inn. She wanted to see Collier again, but that would be foolish. Suddenly, a throb of warning touched her mind and the kystrel started to burn. She stopped walking and clutched her chest, feeling the heat emanating from the amulet.