Maddy covered her mouth and willed the broth to stay down.
Emmey peered at her. “Are you all right, Miss?”
“I will be in a moment,” Maddy said hoarsely. “This Evans, he hasn’t . . . hurt you, has he?”
“No, he likes me! He wouldn’t hurt me.”
He eventually would, but not while Maddy was here. She’d have to intercede on Emmey’s behalf once she was freed, get Emmey out before the lout got his hands on her. This was no place for a child, especially one who’d committed common thievery. There must be more to the story. And where was Emmey’s family? Was her ma still alive? Maddy forced down her second spoonful and handed the spoon to Emmey.
They finished their meal in silence, handing the spoon back and forth until they’d scraped out every last drop. Maddy sipped the water, not wanting to drink it too quickly. Now that she had something in her stomach, she paid more attention to her surroundings. It looked like the stone floor would be her bed and her hands her pillow, since the nights would be too cool to bundle the blanket under her head. She’d relieve herself using the hole in one corner. The odours emanating from that area told her the waste wasn’t landing in water running underneath the prison, unfortunately. One thing was for certain—she and Emmey would come to know each other in ways they’d rather not.
Hopefully she wouldn’t have to wait long before someone arrived from Merrin. If someone arrived from Merrin, she realized with a start. If the Garryglen guard hadn’t recaptured Jonathan, he could meet with misfortune on his way back to the monastery. Even if he made it back safely, he’d escaped without knowing her fate. They might assume she’d died with a noose around her neck. Would they send someone to Garryglen to find out what had happened? If Jonathan didn’t return, would they retrace Maddy and Jonathan’s journey in an attempt to discover their fate? Surely they’d want to confirm Maddy’s death before a defender delivered the sad news to her parents. If not, Emmey would be right; Maddy wouldn’t leave the prison until they carried out her lifeless body and threw it onto the common pyre.
*****
Lillian pushed open Sophia’s study door, strode inside, and stopped in front of the desk. “Have any messengers been through today?”
Sophia heaved her shoulders. She set her quill down on the desk and looked at Lillian. “Why, hello, Lillian. Yes, do come in.” She shook her head. “No, no, I’m not busy. I can spare a few moments. You don’t have to apologize for barging in and interrupting.”
Lillian folded her arms. “Are you finished?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Have any messengers been through today?”
Sophia glared at her. “Yes. One.” She picked up her quill and poised it over the paper.
“Sophia!”
The quill went down again. “Nothing for you.”
Still no word from Maddy? “I should have heard from her by now.”
Sophia’s face softened. “Maybe she hasn’t had time to write.”
“Or decided she no longer wants to.” Deflated, Lillian sank into a chair.
“No,” Sophia said with a curt shake of her head.
“You sound certain about that.”
Sophia remained silent, arousing Lillian’s suspicion. “What aren’t you telling me?” she asked. When Sophia squared her shoulders, Lillian prepared to tell her not to be stubborn.
“Barnabus is a bit worried,” Sophia said, clasping her hands on top of the desk. “Jonathan promised to send regular reports about their progress, but Barnabus hasn’t heard from him since Leaton.”
Lillian sucked in her breath. “Why haven’t you said anything?”
“Because I didn’t want you to worry.”
“So instead you let me think she just wasn’t bothering to write?” Lillian leaped to her feet and started to pace. It had taken her ages to swallow her pride, to come right out and ask about messages. She’d hoped Sophia had forgotten to pass one along to her. “Something’s wrong. Why haven’t we heard from them?”
“I don’t know. But Barnabus thinks it’s time we found out, and I agree. We could send messages to the tax collectors along their route, but we’ve decided to send a couple of defenders, instead. If they’ve run into trouble, and I’m not saying they have, I don’t want to waste time sending messages back and forth. I’d rather we have someone right there to help them. I’m meeting with Barnabus after evening prayers, to decide which defenders will retrace their route.”
“But what sort of trouble could they have run into? If they can’t even send a message . . .” Were they dead? She could hardly bear the thought, let alone verbalize it.
“It’s possible they’re perfectly fine, Lillian,” Sophia said, though her face betrayed her reassuring words. “They may have been delayed by—”
The clink of armour and the ring of boots on stone drew their attention to the doorway. Barnabus tapped on the open door, his face ashen. Christopher, another defender, stood behind him. “May we speak with you, Abbess?”
Sophia nodded. “Yes, of course.”
Lillian moved to the side of Sophia’s desk to make room for the defenders. When Christopher followed Barnabus into the study, her breath caught in her throat. A third defender was behind Christopher, leaning against his back for support.
Jonathan staggered over to Sophia and fell to his knees. He looked like a beggar, not a Salbine Defender. His hair and beard were matted and dirty, his boots were caked in mud, and he wasn’t armed or armoured. The stench of stale sweat filled Lillian’s nostrils. “Abbess,” he said hoarsely. “Forgive me.” His voice broke and he bowed his head. “Salbine, forgive me. I am so sorry.”
Sophia’s face flushed. She rose from her chair. “What’s happened?”
More importantly, “Where’s Sister Maddy?” Lillian glanced toward the doorway, blind hope overriding sense.
“Allow me to tell the tale, Abbess,” Barnabus said. “Jonathan barely had the strength to climb the tower steps.”
“Jonathan, do sit,” Sophia said, at the same time Lillian noticed his trembling hands and legs. Jonathan grasped the arm of the nearby chair and used it for support as he lowered himself into it. “Christopher, fetch him a drink of water. No, bring him brandy.”
Christopher inclined his head. “As you wish, Abbess.” He strode from the room.
Sophia looked at Barnabus. “What’s happened?”
“First, I must tell you that Jonathan is a wanted criminal in Garryglen.”
Sophia’s eyes bulged. “What? Are they pursuing him? Should we prepare to meet them at the gates?”
“I believe I slipped away unnoticed,” Jonathan murmured. “And this is the last place they’ll look for me, even if they believe me to be in Merrin.”
“He’s wanted for impersonating a Salbine Defender, Abbess,” Barnabus said.
Lillian gaped at him. “Start from the beginning,” Sophia said, her expression mirroring Lillian’s.
“Jonathan and Sister Maddy were supping at a Garryglen inn when a fire broke out nearby. The townsfolk asked Sister Maddy for aid. When she said she couldn’t aid them, that she’s unable to draw the elements, they turned on her, accused her of presenting herself as a Salbine Sister for personal gain. They called her a fraud.”
Icy fear gripped Lillian’s heart. “What did they do to her?”
Barnabus hesitated.
“What did they do to her?” Lillian roared, blood pounding in her ears. She heard the rustling of Sophia’s robe, felt Sophia’s hand on her arm, but her eyes remained on Barnabus.
“They hauled her before the town’s magistrate. He didn’t accept her explanation that she’s malflowed.”
“What about your documents?” Sophia asked.
She’d posed the question to Jonathan, but Barnabus answered. “He judged them forgeries.”
“They didn’t include mention of her condition,” Jonathan added.
Sophia pressed her lips together and shook her head. “So what happened?”
“T
he magistrate said she was either a sister who’d refused aid, or a fraud. If she was a sister, he’d let her go and expect us to deal with her. If she was a fraud—” Barnabus swallowed “—she’d hang.”
And she wasn’t here, so . . . Lillian closed her eyes and lowered her head. She felt numb, but grief had to be written all over her face.
“Did they hang her?” Sophia asked in a hushed tone.
“I don’t know,” Jonathan said quietly.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Lillian bellowed, her eyes now wide open. “What are you doing here, if you don’t know? Did she hang?”
Barnabus rested his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “The magistrate brought out a torch, asked Sister Maddy to light it. He said she’d hang if she couldn’t.”
Sophia sighed. “And she tried?”
Barnabus nodded.
“She fell to the ground, Abbess,” Jonathan said, to Lillian’s dismay. “They thought Salbine was passing judgement on her. Everyone started screaming and running for the doors. I took that opportunity to get away, and I had to escape Garryglen as quickly as I could. I couldn’t stay around to see what happened. The guardsmen and townsfolk were all looking for me.”
Red hot anger coursed through Lillian. “You just left her?” Her fingernails dug into her palms as she fought the urge to draw fire and set him alight. “You ran away and left her?”
“Mistress, I had no weapon. I was surrounded by hostile townsfolk and guards. If I’d stayed, they would have hung me. If I’d fought them, they would have defeated me. I thought it best to escape when I had the chance, so I could return here and tell you of Sister Maddy’s fate.”
“Or maybe you’re just a coward!” Lillian spat.
“Lillian, enough!” Sophia’s voice cracked out.
“It’s all right, Abbess,” Jonathan said. “I’ve . . . ever since that night, I’ve asked myself if I am, if my motives for escaping were truly noble.” His face screwed up in anguish. “I’m sorry, Mistress. I know I was supposed to protect her. I’m sorry I couldn’t.”
The misery in his eyes touched Lillian, but she couldn’t bring herself to forgive him.
“I must point out that Jonathan’s death would have served no purpose and been a terrible waste,” Barnabus said, patting Jonathan’s shoulder. “He couldn’t save Sister Maddy, so he decided to bring important information to us, information that will save us time. I believe he made the right decision.”
Perhaps, but Maddy had died alone as a common criminal, her body unrecoverable—or so Lillian’s mind said. The rest of her railed against it, refusing to accept something so terrible. Maddy couldn’t be dead, not Maddy. Since Jonathan hadn’t witnessed her hanging, she could be alive. Lillian wouldn’t recite the Prayer of Deliverance to Salbine’s Realm for Maddy just yet.
Christopher returned and handed Jonathan a glass. “Thank you,” Jonathan murmured before downing the brandy and handing back the empty glass.
“Now we know exactly where to go,” Barnabus continued.
Sophia gripped Lillian’s arm and squeezed it in warning. “I agree. We were planning to send out defenders tomorrow to search for Jonathan and the sister. Now we’ll send them straight to Garryglen. And we’ll send Sister Lucille with them. I don’t want anyone to doubt who they are.”
“No,” Lillian said.
Sophia turned to her. “I beg your pardon.”
“I’m going.”
Sophia’s brows shot up. “What?”
“I’m going,” Lillian said firmly.
Sophia stared at her, then returned to her chair and sat down. “Christopher, walk with Jonathan to the barracks and then ask one of the cooks to prepare him a meal.”
“Yes, Abbess.”
“And Jonathan, you did well. When you’re feeling better, I’d like to hear a more detailed account of what took place in Garryglen.”
“Of course, Abbess.” Jonathan bowed his head and slowly rose to follow Christopher from the study.
“Will you wait outside for a moment, Barnabus? And close the door.” As soon as it was shut, Sophia glared at Lillian. “I know you’re upset, but don’t undermine me like that in front of others again.”
“I didn’t like what you were proposing.”
“Then try, Sophia, I have a suggestion.”
“Fine. Sophia, I have a suggestion. Send me.”
“You’re not the right sister to go.”
Lillian’s hands went to her hips. “Why not? Because it’s me?”
“No, because this journey will likely require diplomacy.”
“I can be diplomatic.”
Sophia arched an eyebrow. “How long has it been since you last left the monastery? And I don’t mean ventured just outside the walls. I mean went on a journey.”
She hadn’t embarked on a journey since she’d arrived, as Sophia bloody-well knew.
“Do you even know how to speak to the folk outside our walls?”
“You mean the rabble?”
“Yes, Lillian. The rabble.”
“If Maddy’s alive, she’ll want to see me, not Sister bloody Lucille!”
“Lillian . . .” Sophia heaved a sigh. “She’s probably dead, if not from the hangman’s noose, then from trying to draw the elements. And don’t blame Jonathan. Blame me. I should never have let her go. But she was so troubled.”
“And still is. I’m not giving up on her until I know for sure.” Lillian slipped her right hand into her robe pocket to finger the letter she’d read so many times. Please, Salbine, don’t let this be all I have left of her.
“If I were in your shoes, I suppose I’d feel the same way,” Sophia said.
“And you’d want to go. If it was Elizabeth, would you be content to sit here while Sister Lucille went to sort it out?”
Sophia removed her spectacles and rubbed her eyes. “No.”
“Then let me go. I’ll go mad here, waiting for news.”
“You’re not going alone.”
“Sophia, I’m worth twenty defenders. Nothing will happen to me.”
“You can certainly defend yourself, and prove that you’re a Salbine Sister, if need be. But that’s not my concern. As I said, this journey will require diplomacy. And that’s not, uh, one of your strong points. So you either agree to take a defender with you, or you’re not going.”
“Oh, very well! He’d better not slow me down.” A thought struck her. “We could meet Maddy on the way. If they didn’t hang her, they could have let her go.”
“Why would they let her go?” Sophia asked softly. “They obviously believed her guilty of fraud, of impersonating a sister, and her failure to draw the elements would only have supported that belief. You heard what Jonathan said. They believed Salbine was judging her. The best we can hope for is that they’re still holding her, but the chances of that are slim.” She bit her lip. “I am sorry, Lillian. I truly am.”
Lillian’s eyes filled. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Save it until we know for sure.”
Sophia nodded. “But prepare yourself, just in case. Don’t get your hopes up too high.” She rose, came around the desk and reached for Lillian.
“Get off me! I don’t need you fussing,” Lillian said, but Sophia knew her too well and held her anyway. Lillian gratefully clung to her. “I don’t think I’ll be able to bear it if she’s dead.”
“Yes, you will. You’ll come back here, to those who love you. We’ll take care of you until time does.”
She snorted. “I’m sure everyone will be concerned.”
“Yes, everyone will be,” Sophia murmured into her ear. “You don’t appreciate the affection everyone has for you. We leave you alone because you want it that way, not because we don’t care.”
Lillian drew a shuddering breath, then stepped back and let Sophia go. Sophia, her own eyes moist, smiled weakly and dabbed at Lillian’s. “I’ll bring Barnabus back in now, all right?”
She nodded and wiped her eyes more vigorously. Sophia opened
the door and motioned for Barnabus to enter. “I’ve decided to send the mistress to Garryglen,” she said, gesturing toward Lillian as she lowered herself into her chair. She lifted her spectacles from the desk. “I want you to go with her.”
Surprise flickered across Barnabus’s face. “Yes, Abbess.”
“Find out what happened. If, by Salbine’s grace, the sister is still alive, bring her back here.”
“Back here?” Lillian said. “But she’ll probably want to continue on to Heath.” She glanced at Barnabus. “Or go home, to the farm.” She hoped Maddy wouldn’t want to leave the Order, and would desperately try to dissuade her of the notion, if necessary.
“No. Before this, I would have granted her request to leave the Order, if she’d asked. But not anymore. Sisters who aren’t malflowed have to remain in the Order because they’re a threat to others. Maddy has to remain because others are a threat to her. She was—is—marked. And she was right. Those outside our walls equate drawing the elements with being a sister. They’re wrong, but that doesn’t change things.” She leaned back in her chair. “She’ll go to Heath, but with a full contingent of sisters and defenders.” Sophia’s face clouded with guilt. “And with documents that describe her condition. How foolish of me not to mention it.”
“You couldn’t have foreseen what might happen, Abbess,” Barnabus said.
Or known that Garryglen’s folk and magistrate were imbeciles, Lillian added mentally.
Sophia squared her shoulders. “I’ll write a new set of documents immediately.”
“I want to leave as soon as possible,” Lillian said.
Barnabus nodded. “We’ll leave tomorrow, Mistress, at first light.”
“We should take Maddy’s horse. She’s not fully trained yet, but ready enough.” She met Sophia’s eyes, willed her not to disagree. Maddy was alive until proven otherwise.
Barnabus stepped in. “Taking the sister’s horse will probably slow us down.”
“Garryglen has three of our horses, remember,” Sophia said. “Get them back, if you can. At the very least, demand compensation, but I’d prefer the horses. If you don’t get them back, purchase a new one for the sister.”
The Salbine Sisters Page 14
