Lia held the orb in her hand and looked at the spindles, at the rim. Years before, a child had wandered from the nursery and was lost in the swampland surrounding the rear of the abbey. Every helper spent hours trying to find the little boy, and since Jon Hunter had not returned from a neighboring abbey, no one could locate the missing boy. As sunset threatened nightfall, the Aldermaston used the orb. The spindles had spun dizzyingly and then directed them on the right course. He was found just after sunset in the woods surrounding the grounds.
The weight of the orb against her palm was reassuring and warm. In her heart, she believed it would work. If the Leerings obeyed her, she knew this would too. Taking a deep breath, she sent her thoughts inside it – show me the way to Winterrowd.
“Lia, please…oh!”
The orb came to life, the inner ring whirring faster than a waterwheel. The spindles on the top joined together and pointed west. Writing appeared on the lower half the orb, as if an invisible hand with a stylus etched them there in the blink of an eye.
“Lia…how did you do that?” Sowe whispered in awe.
Lia stared at it, a broad smile on her face. She was very pleased with herself. “I just asked it to show me the direction of Winterrowd. Let me try it again. Show me the Aldermaston.”
The spindles whirred again, the points going apart before coming together again, pointing in the direction of the cloister.
“Where is Pasqua?” Lia said again, and again the spindles parted and then joined, pointing exactly in the direction of the Abbey kitchen. She looked into Sowe’s eyes and saw fear and respect blazing there.
“Bring me the mug from the tray.”
Sowe shook her head no. “You cannot steal this, Lia. If you are caught…”
“I am not going to steal it. I just need to borrow it. If it will point the way to Winterrowd, then all is done. We can send our friend on his way and I can return it tomorrow.”
“But the Aldermaston…what if he…?”
Lia wanted to shake her. “Yes, if he misses it, he will be furious. There is a life at risk. Do not be so heartless. We have helped him this far. We cannot abandon him to the sheriff to be murdered.”
“No, Lia. You are stealing from the Aldermaston’s private chamber. This is worse than the ring, for those did not truly belong to him anyway. If he finds out…do you understand the risk? If he finds out you did this…”
Lia stamped her foot. “What is the likelihood that tonight, of all nights, a disaster will happen that will require him to use it? We can sneak it back tomorrow the same way we are taking it tonight. He will not even know we touched it.”
“But if something was going to happen, he would know. Who else would he blame? Astrid?”
“Sowe, you are acting like you are six again.”
“Where would we hide it? How would we sneak it past Pasqua?”
Lia grinned, glad she had convinced Sowe at last. “Those questions are better, and I have already figured them out. No, you will not get blamed for it as you fear. Bring me the mug to take its place on the chimneypiece. Hurry!”
And so, despite Sowe’s protests and hand-wringing, Lia stole the orb. For even though she had said it was borrowing, in the deeper part of her feelings, she knew the truth.
* * *
His name was Colvin Price and he would become the Earl of Forshee. Lia nestled against the wall near the low-burning flames from the bread ovens. The Leering eyes were dull. The bricks smelled of yeast and milled flour. She thought about Colvin and the first night he had ended up in the kitchen, bewildered, sick, and wounded. His distrust was understandable now. His very life depended on people not knowing who he truly was. The king did not suffer traitors to live. In fact, the penalty for treason was a harsh death. It made her sick inside thinking what the king’s men would do to him before killing him. Only the bravest of knight-mastons would risk that fate. And Colvin was not even a knight yet.
She looked up at the loft. Even down by the fire, she could hear Sowe breathing. It amazed her how long Sowe could sleep. She prized it greater than snitches of treacle or stolen edges of crust. Lia could not sleep. She was too excited about the dawn and what the daylight would bring. And she was conflicted – especially by the thought that she might never see Colvin again.
The thought caused a little pinprick of regret which she tried to squash, but it still poked her.
Lia stood, setting the orb down near the flagstones and then tied up the linen stuffed with food. Stolen cuts of meat stuffed into husks of bread, along with carrots, turnips, two kinds of cheeses, nuts, and a flask. They had wrapped it in several sheets of linen to preserve it and would carry it down to the waymarker before dawn.