Tabitha heard the rustle of Lady Plaimin’s skirts as she curtseyed, but she did not turn around to bid her or Lord Plaimin farewell. Instead she waited until they and the priest were a few steps away, and then she fixed her gaze on the Elder Mother. “I have come a long way to see a dear friend,” she declared. “She is as eager to see me as I am to see her.”
“Of course, Lady Sorceress,” the woman said, far too mildly. “I will escort you myself.” She gestured to the sisters, all of whom gave her deep nods and stepped back. The Elder Mother led Tabitha toward the left, to a staircase. “The residences are on the third floor, Lady Sorceress,” the Elder Mother said, and paused, as if waiting for Tabitha to say something, but Tabitha maintained cold silence.
The stairs were shallower than the steps from the wharf, and of course much more regular. Tabitha had no trouble speaking as she climbed. “Tell me about Saint Roudelle’s,” she said.
The Elder Mother’s pace was already slowing as they reached a landing between floors, and her breath huffed a bit when she asked, “What would you like to know, Lady Sorceress?”
Tabitha intended to keep her talking. “My father told me you are ascetics. But this building is no mud hut.” Her tone invited the Elder Mother to explain this disparity.
“We believe that the bodies Lord Abban gave us are only comfortable when our spirits are at ease,” the Elder Mother said, slowing her steps further so that she could talk more easily. They passed the landing for the next floor and continued up the next flight. “But, in accordance with Tract Fourteen, we minimize that which can bring the body pain, for excessive pain is trauma to the spirit. It is cold here much of the year, so we wear wool and build in stone. We don’t feel that this compromises our ascetism, which is centered around being careful and sparing with what we consume of Lord Abban’s gifts. We grow an abundance of herbs and vegetables in our gardens.”
Was that why they were all so thin? “Do you eat meat?”
“Shellfish only, Lady Sorceress, in accordance with Tract Six.”
Marjorie did not like shellfish. “Are guests required to conform to your diet?”
“Goodness, no, Lady Sorceress.”
Tabitha nodded. “Good.”
“You are concerned for your friend, my lady. I understand. But please allow me to assure you that we don’t starve, and our guests don’t starve.”
And your prisoners? “I am not reassured,” Tabitha said bluntly. “All of the sisters I have seen look emaciated. It would displease me to find Lady Marjorie in a similar state.”
“We don’t starve,” the Elder Mother repeated, as if she was accustomed to saying it. “People, especially women, don’t need nearly as much food as is typically believed. Many of our sisters live well into their eighties. Our natural beauty is enhanced by our way of life, as it pares us down to our essentials, the framework that Lord Abban gave each of us.”
Tabitha had always been a picky eater, and by consequence had also always been a light eater. She was, of course, proud of her slender form and of the classically beautiful lines of her face. But these holy sisters were not more beautiful because they were so thin. They were painfully sharp and unfeminine.
“You don’t agree, my lady?” the Elder Mother asked when Tabitha did not answer.
“We are more than bones,” Tabitha said shortly.
“Yes, my lady, yes, that is it exactly. Food for the spirit is far more important than food for the body. Our closeness to Lord Abban, through our prayers and our ministrations to the sick and dying, blesses us with true peace, in mind and spirit.”
“Perhaps. And yet, as I said, it would displease me to find that Lady Marjorie has been ‘pared down to essentials’.”
“Lady Marjorie is under my personal care, Lady Sorceress.” They reached the top of the stairs, and the Elder Mother gestured to the corridor lined with doors stretching before them. The ceiling was low here, not much above Tabitha’s head. “My chamber is the door at the end, and Lady Marjorie is the next door. I see her every day. She is in excellent health.”
“Is she allowed fresh air?” Tabitha asked.
“Every day, my lady,” the Elder Mother assured her, which matched what Tabitha’s father had told her when Marjorie was first sent here. “She has been so cooperative, we have not needed to impose any harsh measures. Two sisters walk with her in the garden every day. She is never bound.”
“Is her door locked?” Tabitha’s steps quickened. “Is she allowed to come and go?”
“Her door is locked, but she is allowed visitors. My lady, we have given Lady Marjorie every comfort, considering her crime. Lord Abban—”
Tabitha whirled around, and the Elder Mother froze. “Marjorie is innocent,” Tabitha hissed. “I am here to prove it.”
“Of course, Lady Sorceress.” The old woman bowed deeply. “I meant no disrespect.”
But you still believe Marjorie is guilty. You think that because she is my friend, I will say she is not. She turned and resumed her stalk down the tunnel-like corridor. Marjorie was not going to stay here. Tabitha would not abandon her friend to withered women who starved her and thought she was a murderer.
At the end there were three doors, left, right, and center, and Tabitha stood and waited impatiently for the Elder Mother to catch up. When she did, she opened the center door and said, “I will fetch the key to Lady Marjorie’s room, Lady Sorceress. Just one moment.”
The Elder Mother’s chamber was small, and Tabitha glimpsed a cot, a desk, and a chair. On the plastered wall hung a gilded Godcircle, big enough for the altar of a neighborhood chapel. The Elder Mother took a key from the desk drawer and stepped past Tabitha to the narrow door on the left. She took her time, and Tabitha had to restrain herself from snatching the key out of the Elder Mother’s hand and unlocking the door herself.
Marjorie’s dark red gown was the first thing Tabitha saw in the sparse, whitewashed little room. Meant to evoke blood, for her crime of murder, the gown was matched by the veil covering Marjorie’s hair and the wimple beneath her chin. The folds of the stiff fabric rasped against each other as Marjorie made the sign of the Godcircle, turned from the tiny window, and dipped a deep curtsey. “My Lady Sorceress.” Her voice was breathy-quiet and scrupulously proper.
Tabitha took two steps forward to grasp Marjorie’s hand. It was cold—and bony, as bony as the Elder Mother’s. Her nails were cut nearly to the quick. “Marjorie. Please. No formality with me.”
“Yes, my lady,” Marjorie said in the same voice as she rose and faced Tabitha. Her eyes were that pristine Telgard blue, the same shade as Graegor’s. Tabitha saw no other color in her face, unless one counted the purple half-circles under those eyes and the bright pink pimple on her forehead. She was gaunt, her skin stretched over her cheekbones, nose, and chin, and her beauty was not emphasized, it was stripped.
Tabitha spun to face the Elder Mother. “Is this what you call ‘excellent’ health? She has aged twenty years!”
But the old woman only inclined her head without answering. Her hand was curved in the sign of the Godcircle. Tabitha turned back to Marjorie. “I am very glad to see you,” she said softly. “I came straight off the ship. Once we talk, you will be released.”
Marjorie nodded, and Tabitha realized that although she looked pinched and frail, she was completely relaxed. Neither fear nor excitement held any part of her. “As you say, my lady.”
What has this place done to her? “I told you long ago to call me Tabitha.”
“A privilege I treasured, Lady Sorceress.”
It’s the Elder Mother, Tabitha decided. Marjorie would never speak freely with that old skeleton in the room. Tabitha flipped her hand in the Elder Mother’s direction. “Leave us.”
When the door clicked and, Tabitha clearly heard, locked, Tabitha gently took Marjorie’s arm and sat them both down on the low, narrow cot, which sagged nearly to the floor. But Tabitha did not worry about getting dust on her skirt, since the flagstones were scrubbed clean, doubtless by Mar
jorie herself. “Tell me truly,” Tabitha whispered. “Do they beat you?”
Marjorie was so startled by the question that her voice finally sounded normal. “No. No, of course not.”
“I saw a man here, a guardsman. Are there others? Have any of them touched you? Ever?”
“No, never.” Her eyes looked so big in that thin face. “No one has ever laid a hand on me.”
“Good.” Tabitha would have never forgiven herself otherwise. “Now. Do they feed you?”
Now Marjorie smiled, a gentle smile that one would give to a worried child. “Yes.” Her voice had changed again, resuming its slow serenity. “I have been joining the holy sisters at table for most of my time here.”
“And exactly how often is that? Is it three meals a day?”
“Yes. When our prayers require midnight vigils, we even eat a fourth.”
There was something strange about the way she said the word eat. She gave it the same slight under-emphasis that a well-bred lady would use to say pee or belch, should such things ever be necessary to say. “What do they give you? A cup of broth and a crust of bread?”
Marjorie smiled again. “Food for the spirit is far more important than food for the body.”
Exactly as the Elder Mother had said. Tabitha again resolved that she would not let Marjorie stay here. This attitude was not normal. “We will speak of that later,” she said, letting Marjorie’s arm go and settling herself slightly more comfortably. “And I have so much to tell you. But first …”
Marjorie nodded. “First you must read my mind.”
No. I must pretend to read your mind. “It will not hurt, I promise. You should not feel anything at all.”
Marjorie nodded again. “What should I do?”
Tabitha had carefully, obliquely asked Magus Uchsin what method might be used if a magic-user needed to learn something from another magic-user—another willing, cooperating magic-user. That way, if anyone asked Marjorie what Tabitha had asked her, the answer would sound consistent and reasonable. “I want you to think about …” Unexpectedly, her tongue tripped on his name. “About Alain. Everything you remember about him. Every time he spoke to you. I … I will be able to sift through that, to see …”
“To see if I am hiding anything,” Marjorie guessed.
“Yes. Even though I already know you had nothing to do with it. My father needs the sorceress to tell him that, not just his daughter.” And then you can throw away that horrible blood-red costume and eat an entire roasted chicken with capers and dill. And I swear to almighty Lord Abban that I will never again let one of my friends take the blame for something I have done.
“I understand.” Marjorie held out her hand, and when Tabitha took it, she closed her eyes. Tabitha waited for a count of ten, studying Marjorie’s knuckles, now too bony and prominent. Then she nudged the fringes of her power outward.
She sensed nothing. It was expected. Marjorie was not a maga. But was she magic-sensitive, like Josselin had explained? And did Tabitha have the talent for telepathy with magic-sensitive people?
She knew Marjorie was innocent, but if she could see into Marjorie’s mind, then she would not need to lie to her father at all. She would be able to say, Yes, I looked into Marjorie’s thoughts, and from that, I know that she did not kill Alain. She would feel so much better if she could say exactly that, without any misleading words.
“Can you hear me?” she sent.
Marjorie’s eyes flew open, and they stared at each other, their hands squeezing hard. “Yes,” Marjorie whispered. And she was there, just barely, like the tip of a feather at the tip of Tabitha’s finger. Tabitha tried to stay absolutely still, to keep her thoughts concentrated on that miniscule touch, but her shock ran deep.
Marjorie could hear her. Tabitha could sense her. She was almost magi.
And Tabitha had left her here to rot for months.
“No,” Marjorie said, clenching both hands over Tabitha’s. “No. Don’t feel guilty. I can tell you feel guilty!—Oh, dear God, this is so strange.”
Tabitha quickly pulled back her mind, her heart pounding. Marjorie had felt her guilt. She had allowed her emotions to come through. How could she have slipped so badly? She had studied so hard and practiced so much to control her telepathy, but Marjorie was not even magi and she had sensed her guilt.
“ … not your fault,” Marjorie was saying, still squeezing Tabitha’s hand. “Your father did what he thought was right. There was nothing you could have done.”
Except tell him the truth.
The thought came clear and fully formed, and felt as loud as a shout. Tabitha gasped aloud and clamped down on her magic, hard, but Marjorie only held Tabitha’s hand more tightly. “No, don’t cry. You never cry, Tabitha. Please. It’s not your fault that I am here.”
Clearly, she had not heard those words. In relief, Tabitha ducked her head, pretending to hide tears. “I feel like it is,” she whispered. “I feel like I could have done more.”
“You have done so much for me. You brought me into your family, when my … my own … oh, Tabitha, I am all right. Truly, I am.” She paused. “I am,” she said again, slowly, and when Tabitha looked up, she saw Marjorie looking straight ahead, with unfocused eyes. “I feel …”
Tabitha waited, then prompted, “You feel …?”
Marjorie nodded. “Better. I feel better.”
“You sound better.” More like Tabitha remembered. More like herself.
“Did you do that? Was it your magic?”
“I am not sure.”
“You read my thoughts, right?” Marjorie sounded worried again. “You did? And you know I never left our chambers that night?”
Tabitha had not read Marjorie’s thoughts. But she said firmly, “Yes. And I always knew that you had never left. I always believed you. We all did. Now my father will too.”
Marjorie’s eyes filled, and she let go of Tabitha’s hands to brush the tears away. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Your father, he—he was so kind to foster me. When he thought that I had … had done that … I hated that, I hated that he thought that of me.”
“So did I,” Tabitha whispered back. “I begged him …”
“It’s not your fault,” Marjorie said again. She took a shuddering breath.
Suddenly, Tabitha could not stand to be in this horrible, tiny room any longer. “Then I will help you pack.” She stood up and looked around. “Do you have anything to pack?”
“Pack?”
“You are coming with me to the castle.” A look of alarm crossed Marjorie’s face, and Tabitha quickly sat down and took Marjorie’s hand again. “I know you can’t be formally freed until my father signs the writ. But don’t worry. You can be released to my custody until then, which should be today or tomorrow, when he arrives.”
“But …”
“But?” Tabitha studied her, then asked, “Do you actually want to stay here?”
“I … I thought I would.”
“Why?”
“Where else would I go?”
“Anywhere else. You are free.”
“But I will not go back to my family, and—”
“They are not your family,” Tabitha told her. “I am. You are my foster sister.”
“But what would I do on Maze Island?”
Tabitha had not meant to suggest that, but said smoothly, “Anything you like. It’s not only magi and sorcerers who live there. Or you could stay with Pamela. Or with Beatris. You heard about Beatris moving here, to the island? Sebastene is the new castellan. If you prefer to live here in Cuan Searla, where …” Where your father can never get to you. “ … where you feel safe, you can stay with them. Beatris has been so concerned for you, after all.”
Marjorie nodded slowly, her blank gaze down at the floor. Her right hand was making the sign of the Godcircle. “I do feel safe here,” she said, that odd, serene formality creeping back into her voice. “The sisters are kind. I was looking forward to helping at the hospital. I was not allo
wed, before. I thought …”
“Do you have a true calling?”
Marjorie looked at her. Tabitha repeated the question. “Do you have a true calling, to be a holy sister?”
“I … I thought I did. I think I do.”
“Well, even if you do, there are better cloisters than this one.”
“They truly are kind, Tabitha. They have treated me very well.”
“They will always think of you as a murderer. Yes, they will. They don’t like me, and they will not believe me when I tell them that you are innocent. They will free you on my father’s orders, but they will never accept you.”
Marjorie bit her lip, and Tabitha realized how harsh her words had sounded. She softened her expression and spoke more quietly. “Forgive me.” She patted Marjorie’s hand. “Nothing needs deciding right now. Right now, you will come with me to the castle and stay with me as my personal guest. Our sole concern will be making sure that Pamela’s wedding is as perfect as it can be. Only after that will we discuss everything. All right?”
The correct reply was Yes. Tabitha waited to hear it, and watched Marjorie’s face as she struggled. A face once so much like her own, but now a face framed by that blood-red veil and wimple, a face so thin and wan it looked drained of life. Because of Tabitha.
“All right?” she asked again. She refused to accept any other answer.
Fortunately, finally, Marjorie nodded. “All right.”
Pamela and Daniel’s wedding celebrations turned out perfectly. Tabitha had been worried that she and Beatris would clash on every little detail, but as it happened, the details that Beatris cared most about were not the same details that Tabitha cared most about, so they were able to defer to each other in turn. Tabitha had also been worried about the castellan, but he was very helpful, and she decided that he must not have had anything to do with Lady Plaimin’s insults. On the evening of the prenuptial supper, the wind died down to fitful gusts, so they were able to set the tables out on the parade ground as Pamela wanted. Workers were installing a new set of iron bells in the castle tower, so Tabitha and her magi gave assistance with lifting and holding the bells so they could all be hung in time to ring for the ceremony. Tabitha’s father and his hunters brought down two boars, six nogga, and a truly enormous elk for the feast, so they were able to completely avoid supplementing the meat courses with fish. And Marjorie was there, which made Pamela’s happiness complete.
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