“Is that what this is all about?” Lia demanded, stepping closer to him, jutting her chin at him. “You are angry because of what you learned at Billerbeck? That in order to harness the power of the Medium, you had to give up part of yourself? Look at what you have become, Dieyre.” She felt the stirring of the Medium inside her, welling up with words. “You are angry because you cannot be as selfish as you want without feeling guilty. You are angry that Colvin’s sister does not love you willingly because she will not love you for who you really are. All this rage against the unfairness of the world. You…who were born to privileges and wealth. You…who are gifted with the sword and clever with your words. You…who have everything a man could have and yet still is not satisfied. Do you think that gaining Marciana will make you happy? Do you think it will make the anger go away?”

He stared at her, his eyes narrowing coldly.

“Listen to me, Dieyre. The Blight is coming by Twelfth Night. It is not because of the water rite. It is not what Pareigis is planning. It is in consequence of what she is planning. It is a terrible sickness that will destroy everyone in these lands. Every man, woman, and child. It is truly a Blight and it will come. This is the last chance to escape it. This is the final hour to flee before it is too late.” Lia looked at him desperately, trying to make him see the urgency in her eyes.

His expression was flat, full of skepticism. “How can you say that the Medium will do that? What right does it have to judge and destroy everyone? Who gave it that right? No, Lia. It is you that are wrong. The Medium is real – I have no doubt of that. But it can be controlled by whichever side forces it to obey.” He stepped closer to her, his expression welling up with hatred. “Up until now, it has been controlled by aging old men who strain to pass their airs! For too long they have scolded and nagged and manipulated everyone into accepting their version of controlling the Medium. You are a wretched, so you do not truly understand. Read the words of ancient Aldermastons who have handed down the secrets and meticulously copied them in tome after tome. But it is a lie, Lia. Anyone can control the Medium. Even a wretched. Even you. The future belongs to the young. It belongs to those with vision and feelings, not to doddering men who lust after children. It ends at Twelfth Night, Lia. Their rule of shame ends. You will see it before you leave Dochte Abbey. I promise you that. You will see the fulfillment of what I have said. You will see that no Medium comes to save you. No Medium will scourge the land. No – what you will see is us using the Medium to scourge the land. To purify gold by fire, as it were. You will live to see it, Lia. And when you have, you will join us. For you will not leave this place until you have joined us. And if you will not join us, then you will be killed. Not faint like you did last time.”

Lia felt the shell of doubt and anger encrusting Dieyre. Nothing she could say would change his mind. He was well past hearing her words.

The Medium forced her to speak anyway. She saw it bloom in her mind, the image as vivid as the noonday sun.

“It is you who are wrong, Dieyre,” Lia said, shaking her head. “You will realize it one day when you are the last man alive in all the kingdoms. You will be alone, Dieyre. You will be left all alone. Remember my warning. You are the last man.”

Dieyre snorted contemptuously. “You are raving mad,” he whispered with a chuckle.

Another knock sounded on the door.

He smirked. “That will be the Aldermaston of Dochte to introduce himself.” He reached for the goblet again and took a long, ponderous sip. “When you have finished suffering needlessly, say the word and you will be brought back here. Then maybe you will accept my offer of a bath and a drink.”

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR:

Almaguer’s Revenge

Lia did not expect the Aldermaston of Dochte Abbey to seem so young. She had expected someone as old as the Aldermaston of Muirwood – someone with silver hair and a thick full beard. Instead, she found a handsome man with thick walnut hair and only slivers of gray at the edges. He had penetrating hazel eyes and an almost pleasant-looking smile. The ceremonial cassock and robes were black and fringed with gold and fur pelts.

He looked at her, gazing at her with his penetrating eyes, studying her for a moment as if nothing else mattered. The look filled her with ice. She had never met someone whose presence was so powerful with the Medium, it seemed to radiate from him. However, she noticed that it sucked the Medium out of her. It was a strong force, a tidal force that leeched life out of everyone near him. Even the Dochte Mandar were made to seem insignificant in his presence. Lia cowered, struck by his presence as if he were on fire.