The Aldermaston walked firmly away from the gates, trailed by Lia, Prestwich, and the knight-mastons. Shortly after, the Earl of Dieyre caught up with them, his stride easily overtaking theirs. His voice throbbed with anger.
“It would not take much to batter down those gates,” Dieyre warned. “You should treat with her while you still can. She is merciful. She has spared many from the gallows.”
“No doubt to enlist them into her service,” the Aldermaston replied archly.
“I cannot believe you are ignorant of the risks you face by opposing her. Do you not care of the lives of the villagers?”
Colvin’s voice was cold with fury. “Are you saying she will turn those murderers loose on our countrymen?” His hand closed around the sword pommel.
“No, Forshee, I am not. But I cannot believe the Aldermaston would risk it. She does not suffer fools and she remembers every slight. Offer to treat with her.”
“I will not let her step foot on the grounds,” the Aldermaston replied gravely.
“You let her in before.”
The Aldermaston stopped and faced Dieyre. “I will not treat with her.”
“Why ever not?”
Lia had rarely seen the Aldermaston so furious. His expression blazed with contempt. “Have a care how you mock me, my lord. You are a stripling that has barely seen a score of years. I have seen kings and princes and Aldermastons scheme and plot and kill before you finished your first wetnurse. Do you think I am a simpleton? That your presence within the Abbey walls at this moment is not entirely convenient for her purposes? Have a care, Dieyre. You are not on the king’s land. This is my domain.”
The earl’s eyes flashed with pent-up anger. “You are actually threatening me, old man?” His hand dropped to his hilt. Colvin stepped forward, his motion timed exactly with Lia’s.
Dieyre’s voice dripped with mocking. “Please, Forshee. Do not embarrass yourself.”
“Neither of you will draw your swords,” the Aldermaston said. “There will be no more blood shed on these grounds. The Abbey will strike down any who lift their hand in wrath.”
Dieyre snorted. “I do not believe that.”
“It does not matter whether you believe it,” came the reply. “I have warned you.”
Dieyre did not release his grip on his weapon, as if debating whether he would test the Aldermaston’s claim or not. He glared at them with disgust. “For how many centuries have men like you with gray beards warned that some doom or other would happen if we did not listen to your words. It is a web of lies. This Abbey is no more protected by the Medium than is my little finger. If people believe a lie long enough, it becomes truth to them. Let me be candid. This Abbey is surrounded. It is vulnerable. There is no walled keep to lay siege against. This is no fortress that will hold out until Demont can answer a cry for help. If Pareigis wills it, the townfolk will be put to death and she will make you watch, Aldermaston. You delude yourself if you think some mystical power that mastons alone control will save you or this Abbey. If you thwart her, she will burst open the gates, round up everyone inside and set it afire as an example to others that they need not believe the Medium even cares which sides uses it. Can your heart cope with that, old man? Can you watch your great Abbey burned?”
Lia felt a swelling feeling of protectiveness surge inside her. She wanted to strike Dieyre across the mouth for suggesting it, but she deferred to the Aldermaston, who gazed at him coldly.
“You never earned the rank of maston,” he said. “So you do not understand that you are playing into her hands.”
“I refuse to swear blindly to follow the whisperings of dead ghosts. I do not believe in these little mutterings you believe in. It is a lie.”
The Aldermaston’s gaze turned thoughtful. “What are her terms?”
Dieyre arched his eyebrow. “You will have to ask her…”
“Do not for a moment think that I believe anything but that you are in league with her in every possible way. I will not play this game with you, this bartering for trifles. What are her terms?”
“Ellowyn Demont in her custody.”
“To murder her?”
Dieyre looked shocked. “By the Hand, no!” he said as if it were the most ludicrous suggestion. “We need her alive to treat with Demont!”
The Aldermaston smirked. “Is that what she told you?”
Lia could see the discomfort on Dieyre’s face. “You are trying to plant seeds of distrust in me, Aldermaston.”
“Am I?”
The Earl shifted uncomfortably. “Demont controls the king. Controlling the king gives him the control over the patronage of the realm. Every minor office, every major office. Forshee and York have both benefitted from this.”