The Aldermaston’s mood shifted. He was a keen man and he had picked up on something the Prince had said. Martin saw his eyes narrow. “You said your…wife. You are not married currently. Is that also a glimpse into the future?”

The Prince smiled cryptically. “We are married already, Aldermaston. She was bound to me by irrevocare sigil, though we have never met. I dare even suggest that our unusual marriage was one of the reasons Comoros invaded Pry-Ree. It is also the reason I am finally suing for peace. She was coming to me by sea and was captured at sea and is now being held for ransom at Pent Tower where my father died. The king is not a maston though. He will insist we marry again, and we will to please him. But she is my wife and will forever be. Though it feels as if every Myriad One in existence thwarts our attempts to unite.”

The Aldermaston shook his head, amazed at the revelation. Martin wanted to sneer at him. He had been in Dahomey when the ceremony happened – not inside the Abbey, of course, for he was not a maston. But he had met the girl and brought tidings of her back to the Prince.

The Aldermaston cleared his throat. “There are rumors, muttered gossip really, that Sevrin Demont’s wife wore a kystrel. They say she was the cause of his downfall at Maseve. That it was how she persuaded the marriage to Demont to occur.”

The Prince looked unmoved. “I have heard worse rumors.”

“Is it true? You say Demont’s blood is strong with the Medium, but did that strength come legitimately? Do you marry the daughter of such a one? I know your wife was never allowed to study at Dochte, for she was not the daughter of a king, but her mother may have taught her.”

“That is my concern and none of yours. Thank you, Aldermaston, for your hospitality. My men are rested and we ride in the morning for Comoros. Martin, will you show me that giant oak in the woods you discovered? I would not want to leave Muirwood without seeing its mighty branches.”

The Aldermaston looked as if he had aged another dozen years during their interview. “You are welcome to roam the grounds as you see fit. There is an excellent view of the Tor from the slopes of the cemetery.”

The Prince smiled and nodded. “Yes, the cemetery. I imagine the view will be splendid. Until it floods. Thank you again, Aldermaston. Come, Martin.”

The Prince walked through the lush apple orchard. The buzz of flies wafted in the wind. Martin glanced back at the Aldermaston, who paced the orchard, collecting his thoughts and emotions.

Martin coughed in his hand. “You did not tell him about the cider, my lord.”

The Prince shook his head. “He has enough to worry about. He would not care for us to visit the Tor if he knew what else I have seen.”

“Will he obey you?” Martin asked. “Will he raise the child as you instructed?”

The Prince cocked his head slightly, giving Martin an unnerving look. “That is why I must leave you here, Martin. You must guarantee she reaches Dochte Abbey when it is time. You will not be going with us to Comoros. ”

Martin stared at him in shock, his insides writhing with pain. “By Cheshu!” he hissed.

* * *

“The king arrived with the Earl of Caspur. Not the king of Dahomey. Our king. There was great enmity between Colvin and Caspur, but the king forbade them to quarrel. He said he wants to bring peace to the realm and heal the rift between Demont and the Queen Dowager. He intends to pass the maston test at Dochte Abbey and the Aldermaston has agreed to let him try. The king has joined my private lessons. He is nearly my age and very clever. He knows about reading but he has not had the patience to learn engraving. He whispered to me that he will have his scrivener do that for him. He attempted to read over my shoulder and see what I write in my tome, but I did not permit him. It is for my secrets and not to be shared. He is very kind and his humor reminds me somewhat of Edmon. I miss those evenings in the kitchens of Muirwood. How simple and peaceful they were. Here there is studying all day long and dances and fetes until late into the night. The cider is delicious but I only sip a little. Colvin will not drink it. During the dances he broods. I wish he would ask me to dance. Sometimes I stare at the dancers with great interest, but he ignores me. I do not think he cares to dance.”

- Ellowyn Demont of Dochte Abbey

* * *

CHAPTER TWELVE:

The Holk in Doviur

Ships of every mast and size thronged the port of Doviur. Hundreds of gulls squawked and swooped, mirroring the commotion existing on the piers below. The horizon was a tangled skein of ropes, poles, masts, and large hooks and cranes. Lia kept the Cruciger orb hidden within the fold of her cloak and stared at the spindle as it pointed the way she needed to go. Her request was simple – find me a ship that will bring me to Dochte Abbey. The orb obeyed, allowing her to weave in and out of the crowds, through plumes of charcoal smoke and the sick aroma of decaying fish.