Lia had heard this story before. “Do you think...?” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “Do you think I am from that family somehow?” She was desperate to believe it.
“It is possible,” he replied. “I have wondered what signs of your heritage would emerge as you got older. It was last year when the Medium opened up in you as it never had before. Back when you left Muirwood. The old king, you remember, was the one who crushed Pry-Ree. It was no accident that you were at Winterrowd. I feel that strongly.” He flinched again, biting back his words from the pain. “It is no accident that you are here now to protect an heir of Pry-Ree.”
She looked down at her muddy shoes, exhausted but excited. “Did this high king have any close relations? Any brothers or sisters?”
“He did indeed. He was survived by a younger brother who became high king on his death. He was rebellious as a child. He never was a maston himself and so the Medium did not help him. He was captured by the old king and executed.”
“Did he have any children?” Lia asked.
“It was common knowledge that he fathered many children, within and without of wedlock.”
Lia bit her lip, struggling with her surging feelings. “Why did you not tell me this before?”
“When Almaguer first visited?” he asked, wincing as new stabs of pain afflicted him. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “You showed a penchant for the Medium, but nothing more than that. It was after you returned from the Bearden Muir that you told me the orb spoke to you in Pry-rian. When you aided me healing Astrid, the Medium spoke to me very clearly. It was time for you to take the test.”
Lia nodded dumbly, amazed at what she had learned.
The Aldermaston’s eyes flashed. “There is a mystery here, Lia. You see, there are no wretcheds in Pry-Ree.”
She looked at him sharply then glanced at Martin, who nodded. “It is true, lass, what the Aldermaston tells you. If a child is born out of wedlock, they have the same rights of inheritance as a natural born child. We feel it a great cruelty to abandon any child.” His voice choked for a moment with strong emotions. He clenched his teeth again, grimacing, then continued. “If one is abandoned, there is always a family willing to claim the babe. Always. Even total strangers. There is no practice of abandoning a child in the gutters of an Abbey. It does not happen.”
A surge of feelings went through her. She looked at the Aldermaston seriously. “So you are saying it is a rare thing for me to be here. A wretched from Pry-Ree?”
He nodded slowly. “Indeed, it is rare but not impossible. You were born when Pry-Ree fell. The children of the ruling Family were gathered up, Ellowyn for example. Get some rest now, Lia. You must be fresh if you are to face the test tonight. It will not be easy. Martin will slip away with the others while we are inside the Abbey. Before dawn, you will be a maston.”
Lia swallowed and thought about what she had learned. “Do you truly think so?”
The Aldermaston winced again, but he did not gasp or quail. His knuckles were white as he gripped the table. “Passing the test requires a good memory. You must be prepared to remember what you learn inside. I cannot help. I can only teach you. You may ask no questions once we are inside. But if I know anything about you, Lia – you do have a good memory. You always have.”
She smiled at him and then started for the door. As she touched the handle, she stopped and glanced back. “Is the Blight coming, Aldermaston?”
His face was grave. “Only the Abbeys hold it at bay, child.”
“If Muirwood falls, it will come?”
He nodded slowly. “When you become a maston, you will be hunted. Those like the Queen Dowager will seek your blood.”
She gave him a small smile. “I think you suspected that happening when you called me to be a hunter.”
“Wise…for one so young,” he whispered hoarsely.
She gave the Aldermaston a look of sympathy. “I am glad to be taking the test at Muirwood. It is my Abbey. I will defend her.”
*
“Perseverance is more prevailing than violence; and many things which cannot be overcome when they are together, yield themselves up when taken little by little. Many tyrants have sat on a throne, and those whom no man would think on, have worn crowns.”
- Gideon Penman of Muirwood Abbey
*
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE:
Duerden’s Kiss