The kishion stepped into a grove of trees and Maia followed him, slipping through slender branches that caught at her cloak and tried to snare her. The bark was smooth and glossy. They meandered their way through the copse, which became thicker the farther they went. Twigs and brush snapped as they made their noisy way, but the sounds of the camp fell farther behind.
They had been walking for quite some time when something crashed through the undergrowth, and Argus bounded into view. Maia’s heart leaped and she knelt amidst some ferns as the boarhound rushed up to her and started licking her face. She seized him by the ruff and hugged him, dangerously close to tears.
“Is Tayt with you, Argus?” she crooned. “Is he nearby?”
The kishion snorted. “We did not abandon you, Lady Maia.”
She stroked Argus’s ears and rose, staring at him gratefully. “Thank you.” She had traveled with the kishion for days now, even slept near him in the wilderness, but she did not know if she could trust him. She doubted herself. She doubted everything except the hound’s loyalty.
As they followed the direction Argus had come from, Maia began to hear the nicker of horses. There were three, she discovered, tethered to the spindly tree branches, and Jon Tayt was grooming them. As they approached, he finished brushing one down and dropped to inspect its hooves.
He looked up at her and smiled through his pointed beard. “Ah, we all survived the night, by Cheshu. I, for one, am grateful. Thank you for interceding for us last night, my lady. My friend here says we were not in any real danger, but I was not feeling so calm at the moment. A fine kettle of fish we were in. Sorry I did not heed your hint about meeting you at the mountain. We were not willing to let you try to escape all on your own.”
“How did you escape?” Maia asked the kishion.
He looked at her and smiled darkly. “There is another kishion in the king’s camp,” he said. “He gave me a sign so that I might know him. Loosened my bonds and slipped me some weapons for the ride. I killed the escort not far from here, took the horses and a uniform, and was watching the tent when the Dochte Mandar arrived. I saw you slip out.”
“Does the king know about the kishion in his camp?” Maia asked, her eyebrows lifting.
“Of course not,” he replied blandly. “If I had been hired to kill the king, I would have had help getting into his tent.”
Maia noticed that Jon Tayt was staring at the kishion with brooding eyes. He said nothing. “How far are we from Mon?” she asked.
Jon Tayt shifted his gaze to hers. “We are near the mountains that separate us. The mountains are called the Peliyey. I believe what Collier—ach, I mean the king! He said the passes are guarded. If he is truly planning to invade Comoros, then he does not want his own kingdom sacked while he is gone.”
Maia took a deep breath, conflicted. No, her priority was to find an abbey. She lowered the cowl and swept loose her hair.
“Where is the nearest abbey?” she asked Jon Tayt.
“What?”
“The nearest abbey. Where is it?”
He looked at her, confused, his brow wrinkling. What could she say? They did not know the truth about her yet. She had to keep it secret until she could meet with an Aldermaston.
He scratched the whiskers along his neck. “There is Rivaulx to the north, but it’s on the border with Paeiz. There is Lisyeux in Dahomey, but it would be foolish for us to go there.” He squinted. “There is Cruix Abbey, though. It is in the top of the Peliyey, where three kingdoms are divided by three rivers. It is a hard climb, my lady.”
Maia remembered it now from the map she had studied in her father’s solar. Cruix Abbey.
“Aye, it is on the border of Dahomey, Paeiz, and Mon. Take me there.”
“Why?” Jon Tayt asked.
She shook her head. “I learned something in the king’s tent last night. That is all I can tell you right now. I need to visit this abbey. The sooner we leave Dahomey, the better. Get us across the mountains.”