The kishion frowned. “Was she aware of you?”
Maia nodded, folding her arms over her chest to quell the heaving of her stomach.
“Then there is likely a trap waiting for you,” the kishion said. “They are luring you away.”
Maia stared at him, not wanting to believe what he said, but seeing the truth in it.
“You doubt me,” he said, snorting. “I am no Victus, Maia. But I have worked for them long enough. What does a fisherman use? Not just a hook. He uses bait. Corriveaux tried to murder you in person. Now that you have not complied with his will, he wants you out of the way. If he cannot come to you, then he will make you come to him.”
“But I can travel through the Apse Veil,” Maia said, growing angrier by the moment.
“And do you not suppose that they are watching the abbeys on that side as well?” He folded his arms and gave her an imperious look.
“I must at least send him a message,” Maia conceded, “with someone I can trust.”
The kishion nodded. “I knew you would think of it once you had calmed down. Good lass.”
She was about to storm to the door, but he caught her sleeve.
“Brush your hair first. You are a queen.”
There was so much to do that Maia did not have time to eat. The lord mayor announced the evacuation of Comoros that morning, and the plans they had formed over these last weeks were put in place immediately. The city would be abandoned quarter by quarter—those closest to the river first, followed by those on the outskirts. The city watch roamed the streets and manned the gates, helping the carts and wagons as they began to trundle toward Mendenhall castle, leagues away, where the citizens of Muirwood Hundred would be gathering before trekking into the Bearden Muir.
Sempringfall Abbey still stood, but reports had streamed in throughout the night confirming that Billerbeck had been razed and the armada had arrived. There was still no word from Dodd or his army. The Naestors had brought both horses and foot soldiers, and they had pillaged Forshee, driving the inhabitants from their homes in fear and terror. Refugees were arriving in hordes from the north, heading toward safer ground. Word had been sent to Augustin and Ceaster Abbeys in the south and west, warning them that the invasion had begun. Fishing boats were being used to ferry people from Caspur Hundred to Winterrowd, where they would walk on foot to Muirwood. The Earl of Caspur had sent word that his army stood ready for Maia’s orders. Should he come to the capital and help with the evacuation? Or defend the southern borders should the second attack arrive as predicted?
After counseling with her advisors, Maia had ordered Caspur to hold the south and slow any advancing army to buy time for the people of Comoros to flee. If Lady Shilton’s warning bore weight, it would be the most useful position for him . . . and it would help trump the Victus’s plan.
What surprised Maia was how many people were refusing to abandon the city. According to the lord mayor, at least two in ten households desired to remain behind and ride out the storm.
“They would rather linger here and die, Justin?” she asked him, shocked. She cast her eyes around the mostly empty council chamber, shaking her head in disbelief.
He tapped his goatee and pointed at her. “You would be surprised how many of them have never left the city before. They feel safe behind these walls, even though they know the walls cannot protect them from the Dochte Mandar. They just do not believe that the Dochte Mandar would murder them all. Some say you are fearmongering.”
“I cannot understand,” Maia said, shaking her head. She glanced at Suzenne and Jayn, who sat close to her, to see if they shared her incredulity. “We have been planning this for several months, Justin. Why are they balking now?”
“Some people will not believe in a danger unless they can see it with their own eyes. There are undisputed reports that the Naestors have arrived . . . in force.” He puffed out his breath. “I think our estimates of the size of their army may have been too hopeful. Tens of thousands have disembarked on the first day alone. They are coming ashore on canoes and skiffs. Some of our people want to trample each other to flee. My question for you is this, my lady—should we force everyone to leave? And what about the prisoners being held in the dungeon?”
Maia gave him an icy look. “Send them in barred wagons to the dungeon at Mendenhall castle. They will not be left to face Corriveaux’s questionable mercy, but they will not be freed. They have had second chances enough, and will face trial when this war is over.”
The door to the solar opened and Richard strode in with a tall man wearing a hooded cloak. The man was gangly and tall and unfamiliar, but his clothing was Dahomeyjan. Her pulse quickened.