Lia nodded, thinking about the predicament. In her mind, the Dochte Mandar were the minions of the hetaera. They painted themselves and others with tattoos to hide the kystrel’s curse. Instead of it being a mark to separate themselves from others, they forced others to embrace the branding to mold them after their image. The notion repulsed her, but she realized that not having a tattoo would make her stand out among them. With offers of reward for turning in mastons, she would need to be very cautious as to who she could trust. She believed that with the Cruciger orb’s help, she could find her way to Colvin, Ellowyn, and Martin. However, it was only a matter of time before Dieyre went looking for his men and discovered that she was heading there. As they walked, she looked backwards constantly towards the forest, hoping to catch a sign of riders with enough time to hide themselves.
“That way,” Jouvent said, pointing towards the shore. “The tide is gone now. Thou wilt get wet as we pass to the Abbey.”
They changed direction and followed into the wetlands which were spongy and soft and little bubbles appeared all along the sandy shore. Tall boulders loomed in the distance, offering a jagged edge to the horizon. The air smelled of salt and dozens of gulls glided overhead. The walk was slow going because of the shifting sand and they left a trail of pockmarks that slowly filled in and vanished. It would be difficult tracking someone in the sandy muck. At times the water was up to the cuffs of their boots, but it was always low enough to keep trudging and would disappear entirely as they reached little cusps of land. The walk was long and tedious, and Lia’s heart vexed her with anticipation. Each step brought her closer to him. Her stomach fluttered with nervousness.
“There,” Jouvent said, pointing. “Dochte Abbey.”
At first it looked like a boulder, but then she noticed the slender silver spike rising from the center of it. As they walked, the boulder became more distinct and she realized something she had not when seeing it from the Holk near dusk. Her initial thought was an Abbey built on top of a hill in the midst of the ocean. The ocean had receded all around it, exposing the land and sea grass. The side facing them showed not just an enormous Abbey jutting from the hilltop, but row after row of houses, walls, battlements, and turrets further down. From the rear she had seen forested slopes and cliffs. As they approached, she could see an entire village had grown up around the lower walls of the Abbey and it was thick and crowded and teeming with chimney smoke and people. There were darker blotches showing some small parks or woods, but the majority of the face was built up and defended. The Abbey was taller than a castle, more grand than any structure she had ever beheld. How had something so large and beautiful been crafted by men?
“She is a beauty,” Jouvent said with a proud smile. “That is our Abbey. The finest mountain in the world.”
His words summoned a memory. Long ago, she and Colvin had followed Maderos up the Tor which overlooked Muirwood far below. The climb had been strenuous, though the older man had hardly struggled for breath. She remembered him telling her, quite cryptically, that there would be other mountains she would climb. To find Tintern Abbey, she and Colvin had climbed a mountain in Pry-Ree. To reach Colvin, she would climb another one. A wave of emotions smothered her suddenly and she choked a moment.
“Other travelers,” Jouvent said, his face going from grin to grim. As Lia looked around, she saw others crossing the wetlands towards the great Abbey. “It is still safe to cross now. Best be there before supper, or the sea will trap thee inside. The inns will cheat thee. I must get back to mother soon. It is a long walk, but thou walkest well.”
Three dark dots appeared in the shimmering sand ahead and she realized it was three travelers leaving the Abbey for the mainland. Her heart began to pound when she recognized the black cloaks and cassocks riding dark steeds.
Jouvent hissed through his teeth. “Dochte Mandar.”
There was no place to hide. The broad expanse of sand and seagrass left nothing for shelter or to not be seen. Lia gritted her teeth as they approached at a calm walk, in no rush to leave the Abbey. She tugged her cloak tightly about her, trying to conceal her gladius the best she could.
The Dochte Mandar wore black with white ruffs about their necks. The cassocks were black velvet and designed with silver trim, reminding her instantly of the Queen Dowager’s henchmen. Their boots were lined with white pelts and each had gems studding their belts and saddle harnesses. Swords were fastened to their belts, each with a large ruby set into a silver hilt. Their faces were mazes of tattoos, which disguised their features and drew in her eyes.