Suzenne fidgeted with her spoon. “Caspur looked quite . . . displeased, but I do not know what else you could have done. He seemed determined to get his way. I am glad you did not give in. He made it very uncomfortable, though.”
“He did,” Maia agreed. “It will take time before the council acts in harmony. I confess, it is difficult to discern the motives of every person. Caspur means well, I think, but he is very ambitious. His need for glory clouds his judgment.”
She continued to eat the soup. A dish of spiced fish was nearby, and she plucked a few flaky crumbs from it with her fingers. The cooks always insisted on bringing her a variety of dishes and had tried to learn about her favorites. She had admitted to a fondness for Pry-rian cooking, which had upset the head cook very much. She sighed aloud. It was just too difficult to attempt pleasing everyone.
There was a short knock at the door, and Suzenne sighed and pushed away from the table to answer it. Maia did not feel like seeing visitors. In truth, she yearned to don a simple disguise so she could leave the palace grounds to visit the people and learn firsthand about their troubles and the mood—much as her own husband did on occasion in his own kingdom. She did not want to rely solely on the lord mayor’s telling. Suzenne’s expression changed quickly, and she turned aside to admit Sabine and Simon Fox.
Smiling eagerly, Maia rose to greet them and rushed to embrace her grandmother. “Have you eaten yet?” Maia asked her. “We have more than enough. Come share with us.”
Sabine smiled and patted her back. “I had a meal already, but thank you. If we could speak privately?”
Suzenne nodded and quickly dismissed the ladies-in-waiting, who left the chamber from a back exit without even a murmur. Jayn Sexton paused in the doorway, looking back to see if Suzenne would join her, but Sabine gestured for her to stay. When her private chamber was private once more, Maia gave her grandmother a worried look. “What is it?”
Sabine’s expression was thoughtful, pensive. “I know about your troubles, Maia. I have heard about the rebellion. But I must leave Comoros again almost as quickly as I have arrived.”
Maia’s heart sank. “I know I should not strive to keep you here longer,” she said, taking her grandmother’s hands and squeezing them tenderly. “But it pains me to be apart from you. You are my only Family. Where must you go next?”
Sabine shook her head sadly. “I still have duties to perform, dear one. I must continue to open the Apse Veils throughout the realms. I have already opened one each in Avinion and Mon. I go to Dahomey next and then Paeiz.” She glanced at Simon. “There is troubling news, Maia. I must go to Hautland as well.”
Maia stiffened. “But they are loyal to the Dochte Mandar,” she said.
Sabine nodded. “I know. Simon received word from the Hand of the Victus. The Hand is the one who directs them. The person in that position is given his title because of the saying, ‘the hand directs the knife.’ The Victus, as you know, employs various machinations throughout the kingdoms. They are behind Paeiz’s attack on Dahomey. They seek nothing but turmoil and conflict; their aim is to pit each kingdom against the other. Obviously they want to embroil Dahomey in a war with its neighbor to prevent your husband from defending Comoros when the armada comes.”
Maia’s heart wrenched at the mention of her husband. She missed him dreadfully and had not heard from him since he had sailed from Comoros.
“What news have you received then?”
“The Hand communicates throughout the realms through waymarker Leerings they have stolen. One of the properties of Leerings is to bind two points that are distant, allowing individuals to touch minds and speak to each other.”
Maia knew about this phenomenon already, having experienced it in the cursed shores of Dahomey. She had touched a Leering to summon water and had found herself ensnared in a duel of wills with Corriveaux and another Dochte Mandar.
“Yes,” Maia said, revolted by the memory of wearing the kystrel, “I have used a Leering that way in the past.”
Sabine turned to Simon. “Tell her the rest.”
She had not seen Simon for several days. His dark eyes were even more brooding than usual. “The Hand of the Victus has changed. I normally would not mention something like this to you, except you know the man who now leads them. His name is Corriveaux, from Dahomey.”
Maia felt a cold shudder at the mention of his name. He had hunted her throughout the realms, conspired to make her the queen of the hetaera. The Medium had saved her from him in Naess, where she had feared her journey would end.
“You told me of him,” Suzenne said, touching Maia’s arm. She looked grave. “He was in authority with the Dochte Mandar in Dahomey. He hunted you.”