Lia’s heart spasmed with joy. “I can come back? Even after what I did?”
A half-smile and a nod was his answer. He was never very talkative. Her heart was so full, she nearly started crying again. She clasped her hands in front of her, thinking of it – savoring it. She could return to Muirwood instead of being banished forever.
Colvin’s voice was dark. “Why?”
“Hmm?”
“Why does the Aldermaston help me?” He tugged a tuft of grass from the earth. “Why does he forgive her?”
Jon stowed the waterskin and cinched the pack shut again. “I do not begin to understand the Aldermaston’s reasons. He is far wiser than I will ever be. He sent me to find you. I found you. Lucky for you both. Your first day in the Bearden Muir went well. You went straight towards Winterrowd as if the Medium were guiding your steps. Then yesterday, your trail wandered to and fro like a pig drunken on spoiled cider until you reached the road. If you had stayed on the road much longer, Almaguer would have caught you. His horses are faster and his men are better riders. They do not spare horseflesh hunting a man. I thought they had you, but you came back into the swamp. I caught your trail before they did. Now they have to double-back and see where you came in. I disguised it as best I could. At least I caught you first. What happened? Did you lose the orb?”
“I failed,” Lia said, ashamed.
Jon stood to stretch his legs. “It stopped directing you?”
Lia pulled her cloak more tightly around her shoulders. “It is my fault. I have been too fearful.”
He was silent for a moment as he considered. “I can tell you this. We will not make it through the Bearden Muir without it. We may not make it through the day. I, for one, do not want to risk being caught by them. Fear stops the Medium from hearkening to you.” He looked down at Colvin. “You are a maston though. Why did you not cure her fear?”
Colvin looked up, his jaw set. “Only she can do that. I have been…I have been teaching her about the Medium…”
Jon waved his hand. “She is not a learner! She cannot be a learner. But you are a maston. What about a Gifting?”
Colvin looked shocked. “I have never done one before. I…I…it is not that…”
“You are a maston. You can. You have the right to call on the Medium to lay a Gift on someone.”
“But I do not know…the words…the right words…they are written in my tome. I do not have it…”
“It is not exactly a riddle, lad. I have heard the Aldermaston do it. He Gifted me before I came to find you. Gift her with courage.”
Colvin stood, his face twisting with anxiety.
“How long have you been a maston?” Lia asked him.
“Not very long,” he replied, sounding a little ashamed. “I have never done one before. I do not know the right words.”
Jon snorted. “It is not about the words. You already know that. It is the Medium. Let it speak through you. She needs courage. Gift her with it.”
“Give me a moment!” Colvin said harshly. He turned his back to them, his fist tight, his arm taut.
Jon let him alone for a moment. “Lad, I can help you. I have heard the words. As long as you know the maston sign, you can do it. I cannot help you with that.”
Colvin’s voice was strained. “I know it.”
“Then come on, lad. You have the right, despite your youth. Use it. Or else the sheriff and his men will have us tomorrow. I tell you, they cannot be far behind us.”
Colvin turned, his eyes strong like steel.
“What do I do?” Lia asked.
“Just kneel where you are,” Jon said. “Put one hand on her head. Make the maston sign with the other. Then you call her by her wretched name. Lia Cook. Pronounce the Gifting through the Medium. The Aldermaston says they come as thoughts, not words. You have to shape the thoughts into words.”
The wind rustled the trees and the marsh grasses hissed. There was a chorus of cicadas somewhere nearby.
Colvin’s voice was firm. “Close your eyes. Both you. You cannot witness the sign.”
Lia straightened her back, though she was still kneeling, and rested her hands in front of her. She closed her eyes, which felt silly. Colvin’s boots trampled the grass near her and she could feel the warmth coming from his body. He knelt down as well, facing her. She could hear the sound of it, felt the shift of his weight. Her heart started pounding and her mouth went dry. She could feel his hand coming down, but not touching her, as if he dared not touch her. In the dream of Almaguer, he had touched her hair. His fingers had coiled in her hair like serpents. Shivering, she waited, barely able to breathe. The image of the sword plunging through her returned to her mind. The sweet reek of his skin. Smoke-shapes sniffing at her, nuzzling against her arms, her back, her legs. She wanted to scream. Please, do not touch me…do not let him touch me! Something terrible would happen if he did.