She turned to her grandmother and embraced her. “I hear him in my mind too,” she said miserably. “I hear my husband’s thoughts. I want to answer him . . . if only to tell him I am sorry.”
Sabine smiled sadly. “Every choice we make that brings us closer to the Myriad Ones is a choice that alters our course. But it is your decision, Maia. I cannot make it for you.”
Maia wanted desperately to respond to him. It tortured her to let him think the worst of her. But she had given herself completely to the Medium, and it had rescued her from Ereshkigal. Could she renege on her commitment so soon? The feelings nearly strangled her. Slowly and sadly, she shook her head no. “I will not,” she whispered.
Sabine gave her an understanding look—one that showed she had carried heavy secrets herself. “The voices will fade in time. At Muirwood, you will not hear the whispers of the Myriad Ones or your kystrel. Ereshkigal has no dominion there. It was sealed up as a safe haven for you, as a place for refuge and peace.”
“Mother is there,” Maia replied eagerly, struggling to put aside thoughts of Collier. “I fear she is in danger.” She remembered suddenly her vision of the kishion. She looked at her grandmother. “Is she safe?”
The look in Sabine’s eyes said the words her mouth could not.
To my dear one, Marciana, I give you my love, my high regard for your courage, and my deepest wishes for your happiness. I fear that happiness is an emotion you have felt little during your life thus far. I was raised a wretched in the Aldermaston’s kitchen at Muirwood Abbey instead of as a Princess of Pry-Ree as was my birthright. Yet I knew more happiness in the simplicity of that life than I have found in the burdens and cares of leading others. To be a leader is to be alone. I have counsel for you, great-great-great-granddaughter who was named after my husband’s sister. Choose wise counselors to guide you. Wisdom is the Gift you need most of all, for you will face dilemmas and troubles that I never experienced. You will also endure heartaches unique to yourself. Bear these with patience, Maia. Pain passes in time and forges character. The Dochte Mandar of your day think that by depriving humanity of the awful emotions—grief, suffering, despair—they can prevent the recurrence of the Blight. It is not true. Depriving your father and mother of the chance to let their private grief teach them love and compassion sowed the seeds of their marriage’s failure. If these sad emotions are endured—and accepted—patiently, they teach us wisdom and compassion. You have struggled all your life to contain your tears because your father once praised you that you did not weep as a babe. Maia, there is healing in weeping. There is balm in tears. An Aldermaston once said: Tears at times have the weight of speech. I weep for you as I scribe these words. Though I have never met you, I love you, Maia.
I know you have a brand on your shoulder. You will live with the grief of the consequences of that all your life. But there is a sacred duty you must fulfill. When the abbeys were destroyed in my era, I made a Covenant that Muirwood would be rebuilt, that the gates of Idumea would be opened anew that the dead may pass on from this second life. This is the rite of the Apse Veil. It also allows mastons to travel great distances between abbeys. The longer the Veil remains closed, the more unrest will occur in the kingdoms. The dead wander among us. They grow impatient in their banishment. They speak to the living through the Dark Pools. You must open the Apse Veil. I give you this charge. By Idumea’s hand, make it so. Remember—sometimes even to live is an act of courage.
—Lia Demont, Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Muirwood
Maia’s eyes were wet with tears and she wiped them on her gown sleeve, then ran her palm over the smooth aurichalcum page. The Holk swayed, its mighty beams creaking and groaning like an ancient man feeling his age. The tome was heavy in her lap, the words illuminated by light streaming in from the round window of the cabin.
“There is no shame in tears,” Sabine Demont said softly, reaching out and caressing Maia’s hand.
Maia felt the little tremors bubbling up inside her. “How well she knew me,” Maia said faintly, her eyes swimming. “As if she had walked alongside me in silence all these years.” She swallowed. “Lia had the Gift of Seering. It amazes me.”
Sabine stroked her arm. “Her father had it. It does not always pass from one generation to the next. Without the full powers of the abbeys, it is an increasingly rare Gift. So many powers of the Medium have not been manifested since her generation.”