“Yes, but you are a wretched. In one way it is a privilege because you have lived inside an abbey. You have never faced the thousand mutable fears that roam the lands outside those walls. Spirits of aether you cannot see that make you fear and doubt and crave the things that will only do you harm.” His eyes burned with passion and he uttered a cough, almost a chuckle. “You are so innocent. I doubt you have ever been fully tempted by the Myriad Ones.” He waved his hand around at the trees and the mist. “They live in the world among us, feeding our most selfish selves with their thoughts. This is the world outside the safety of Muirwood. It is a world ripe with things poisonous to the Medium. I know I speak vaguely, for there are things mastons are taught that we cannot share. It is forbidden to speak of certain knowledge outside of an abbey. Trust me, girl. You lived within borders that have protected you from them, where gargouelles watch day and night and drive the Myriad Ones away.”
He stepped even closer to her. “I studied at Billerbeck Abbey. The Aldermaston there taught every first year learner these words from the tome of Hadrion - ‘we wrestle not against blood and bone, but against kingdoms, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world. Against brooding wickedness in high places, and even their puppets called kings.’” His voice changed, softened. “Sevrin Demont fought against the Myriad Ones his whole life and even against his own king when he realized he was but a puppet. Demont failed at Maseve because he gave up hope. The Medium…it abandoned him. Darkness has veiled the land ever since. Mastons are being put to death in secret. I ride to Winterrowd to change that. The orb knows our need. But it also recognizes your fears and doubts. Your feelings are what is stopping it.”
Lia stared at him, wondering what to believe. She knew a great deal about mastons, but she had never heard of Myriad Ones or invisible things that could influence her thoughts. She did know this. She was cold and miserable. She was afraid.
After a period of silence, she said, “I feel what I feel, Colvin. I cannot just change my feelings, like a dirty cloak or a new dress, can I?”
He nodded vigorously. “Yes, you can. It all begins here, with a thought.” His finger grazed the center of her forehead. She shivered at his touch.
* * *
“The soul attracts that which it secretly harbors – that which it loves, and also that which it fears. Thus circumstances do not make the maston; they only reveal him to himself. It means that blessedness, and not wealth, is the measure of right thought; wretchedness, not poverty or lack of Family, is the measure of wrong thought. A maston will find that as he alters his thoughts towards things and other people, things and other people will alter towards him. For you will always draw near towards that which you, secretly, most love. Humanity surges with uncontrolled passion, is tumultuous with ungoverned grief, is blown about by anxiety and doubt. Only the wise maston, only he whose thoughts are controlled and purified, can make the winds and the storms of the soul obey him.”
- Cuthbert Renowden of Billerbeck Abbey
* * *
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE:
The Road
They wandered through the Bearden Muir, lost. Even the sun forsook them. Alternately, they walked and rode, giving the stallion as much rest as they could afford. Not that a horse could gallop through a swamp, theirs or the sheriff’s. Obstacles faced them constantly – wide gullies and ditches choked with foul-smelling waters, too broad to cross. Often they had to go east to find a way west. Thirst was a constant tormenter.
All the day long, Colvin spoke to her, instructing her in the ways of the Medium. He did it from memory, quoting from the teachings of the Aldermaston of Billerbeck Abbey and the tomes he had studied there. Lia had many questions, and he answered them – oftentimes impatiently – but he answered. Learners started out acquiring the skill of reading and engraving so they could translate ancient tomes containing the words of Aldermastons of the past as well as their own Family. Only through studying these words, often thick and impenetrable with multiple meanings, could a learner begin to unravel the mysteries of the mastons. Language that was rich with symbols. Reading something again and again, year after year, could bring nuances and understandings that a younger learner could not even grasp. She discovered that all the years of learning at an Abbey as a youth was merely preparation for a life-long journey of self-discipline and improvement. It was clear to Lia that Colvin was exceptional. His memory for detail, for example, the exactness by which he quoted his teacher showed that he had studied hard – the knowledge was written in his heart and not just on his tongue.