“What do we do now?” Maia said. She heaved a mournful sigh and folded her arms in front of her.
Jon Tayt rose from the window seat and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “It is a fine kettle of fish,” he said with clenched teeth. “How much did you overhear?” he asked the kishion.
The man grunted as he swallowed a mouthful of food, then scooped up some roasted nuts and munched a few. “All that I needed to hear,” he said enigmatically. He gave Maia a probing look. “Spiders, as I warned you. Corriveaux fled, but you can be assured he left others in the city to work his mischief.”
The bruise on his cheek had turned purple, she noticed, and there was a brownish-red clot of blood on his split lip. He seemed to enjoy the nuts and took another scoop.
“We must evacuate the city immediately,” Maia said. “It will take a lot of time to move so many people.”
“To Muirwood?” the kishion said with a disapproving grunt.
Maia nodded. “That Hundred is our most defensible position. They cannot attack it by sea. The Bearden Muir will slow them down and give us time to call for aid.”
The kishion looked smug and shook his head with barely concealed mirth. “You believe that if you wish, Maia. Dahomey is locked in battle with Paeiz. It is deliberate, I assure you. Prince Oderick of Hautland is retching violently and sick with fever. Even I know he will not recover from his illness, and it is no poison of mine that afflicts him. So will Hautland come to your aid? I think not. That leaves . . . Mon? You burned their main abbey, if you remember. Besides, getting word to them will take time, and time you do not have. That leaves Pry-Ree and Avinion, the two smallest kingdoms. And your grandmother has been imprisoned. Do not think the Victus will not use her as leverage to prolong the ordeal. They will kill her, you can be certain, but not before they use her to get what they want. Avinions can carve gems and catch fish. Perhaps one of those skills will be useful to you.” He laughed heartily and took another fistful of nuts into his mouth and chewed them noisily. “Believe me when I tell you that the Naestors have enough men and enough axes to cut down every stunted oak tree between here and Muirwood Abbey. And that will provide the kindling. They are going to unleash a Void. The sooner you accept this truth, the better.”
Maia felt anger stir at his hopeless appraisal of the situation. “I will not abandon my people. I trust the Medium will assist us.”
At those words, the kishion sneered. “Very well. Let the Medium save you. But when you learn to your grief that it obeys whoever forces it to obey, you may remember what I have told you. You have always had a soft heart for your people, Lady Maia. But they will forsake you in the end. Especially when Corriveaux promises to spare their lives if they give you up.” He gave her a stern look. “You know as well as I do that he is a liar. He will dangle hope and then crush it under his heel. Even Lady Shilton is a fool for trusting his promises. Men like him know only how to burn things.”
He tipped his goblet toward her. Then he looked at Jon Tayt. “It is my turn to guard her. Off with you now.”
Jon Tayt’s eyes burned with anger. He sat rigid, his curly coppery hair glinting in the light. In that moment, he looked like a man prepared to fight to the death.
Maia approached the hunter and put her hand on his shoulder. “Good night, Jon Tayt. I will stay in the castle tonight.” She gave him a gentle nudge. She could not bear to lose him too.
I perceive that the kishion loves her. Or he feels what he esteems to be that emotion. Truly, the powers of a kystrel are penetrating. Her short time with him managed to overcome even the most arduous training a man can endure. One is brave who overcomes his desires—not just his enemies. The hardest victory is always over self. If Maia can vanquish a cold-hearted killer, then I imagine my daughter will make far easier sport of her victims. She wants to seduce Dahomey’s king for revenge. We should have unleashed Murer with a kystrel earlier. Then Comoros would not have needed to be destroyed.
—Corriveaux Tenir, Victus of Dahomey
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Forgetting