“Wish I could have written it for you,” Arthur said as he folded the paper and sealed it. He lifted the tray from her lap. “And it’s for Mistress Lillian, of Merrin?”
“Yes. But you can give it to any sister. Any one will see that the mistress gets it.”
“Sisters don’t pass this way as a rule, with Reedwick being off the main trade route and no reason for them to come to the prison. But if a sister comes for you, I’ll give it to her. If not, then in a few months’ time, when . . .” he gulped “ . . . when everyone knows you’re gone, I’ll send it. Can’t imagine I’ll get into trouble then.”
“Thank you.” She wiped her brow. “And thank you for finding me the supplies I needed to write it.”
“The thanks belong to those in town willing to lend them. Would you like some more tea?”
“Yes, please.” It didn’t quell her inner fire and only slightly eased the pain in her hand and arm, but it emotionally soothed her.
“I’ll go brew it.” He left with the tray and letter, probably relieved to be away from the foul smell for a few minutes. She’d grown used to it. Arthur sometimes held a handkerchief over his nose, but he hadn’t today.
Maddy lay down, trying not to look at the monstrosity that used to be her right hand, or at how far the sickness had crept up her arm. She’d accepted that she’d die here, and nobody except Arthur would notice. If there was a lesson to be learned from all this—being malflowed, falsely accused, rotting in prison, and burned—she didn’t see it, despite lying in this bed for hours on end, searching for one. She was as far from understanding Salbine’s will as she had been when she’d set out for Heath, all those months ago. She could only hope that it would be Salbine’s realm she entered and not the realm of the godless, though she had a difficult time believing that Salbine hadn’t forsaken her, and no reason to believe that any of the other gods had claimed her.
At least Emmey was free, and hopefully well. In her worst moments, Maddy clung to that one bright spot. It hadn’t all been for nothing. In every prayer, she beseeched Salbine to guide Emmey safely home. Maddy also prayed earnestly for Lillian. If she could only see her one last time, she could die at peace. So much in her life felt unfinished.
She struggled to sit up when Arthur returned. He set the tray on her lap again. A cup of tea had replaced the quill, ink, and paper. “I’ll stay here and hold it for you,” he said, lowering himself into the chair next to the bed and grasping the edge of the tray with one hand.
“I’d appreciate your company.” Someone always held the tray for her when she ate, too. When she could no longer feed herself, she’d ask for the special tea, though she might lose her appetite before then.
They chatted while Maddy sipped her tea. She asked after Arthur’s family and listened to him recount the antics of his youngest son. “I told my Jill that he’ll make a right good smith when he—”
A guard rapped at the open door. “You’d better come out, gov. A couple of folk are here to see you.”
“Will you be all right with the tray?” he asked Maddy.
“You can take the tray. I’ll hang onto the tea.”
He did as she’d suggested. Maddy tightened her fingers around the cup’s handle and closed her eyes. She was definitely growing weaker, and her head constantly ached. The limbs she could feel were heavy, and moving them took effort. Her inner fire raged. She didn’t think it would be long now, no more than a few days.
Voices broke into her thoughts and grew louder as their owners approached her room. Maddy’s eyes snapped open. The illness must be affecting her mind. One sounded like—no, it couldn’t be. She turned toward the door anyway. “Lillian!” she gasped.
Lillian strode to the side of the bed and bit her lip. “Oh, Maddy. I want to hug you, but I don’t want to hurt you.” If the smell bothered her, she didn’t show it.
“It’s my right hand and arm,” Maddy said, still wondering whether Lillian was real or the sickness had touched her mind. She needed to feel her. “Take this cup off me and come sit on the edge of the bed. And take off your cloak. I want to feel your robe.”
“I’m not robed.” Lillian set the teacup on the chair and removed her cloak, revealing her riding clothes. She threw her cloak over the back of the chair and sat next to Maddy. “Why would you—”
Maddy touched Lillian’s cheek, then her lips. She ran her hand along Lillian’s shoulder and down her arm, then met her eyes. “It’s really you, isn’t it? Oh, Salbine, thank you.” She buried her face in Lillian’s shoulder and cried. “Thank you, Salbine,” she sobbed again and again.
Lillian held Maddy and rubbed her back. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here,” she murmured. “We left as soon as we knew you’d met with trouble.”
“You’re here now,” Maddy managed to say between sniffles. “That’s all that matters.” She hadn’t realized it, but she’d given up, accepted her fate with a shrug. Her primary concern had been not to burden others by dragging out her demise. Now that Lillian was here, she’d fight for every second, every last breath. She’d still die, but she wouldn’t go meekly. Arthur wouldn’t brew that special tea. Lillian would bolster her courage, and hold her hand as she drew her last breath and left this realm naturally.
Maddy drew back, smiled through her tears, and wiped away Lillian’s. “How did you find out I was here?”
“Jonathan made it back to the monastery.” Lillian leaned over to the chair to pull a handkerchief from her cloak pocket. She wiped Maddy’s eyes. “So we knew to go to Garryglen.” Her voice wavered. “But we didn’t know if they’d hanged you. We only found out yesterday that they hadn’t.”
“I thought someone would come eventually, but I didn’t expect it to be you.”
“Do you know who Sophia wanted to send? Sister bloody Lucille! Is that who you’d want here right now?” Lillian asked incredulously. “Sister bloody Lucille?”
For the first time in days, Maddy laughed. “I’ve missed you,” she said, resting her head on Lillian’s shoulder.
Lillian touched Maddy’s cheek. “You feel hot. Can I have a look at your hand?”
Maddy stiffened. “There’s nothing to be done, Lillian.”
“I can tell by the odour that it’s bad, but I’d still like to have a look. Please?”
“All right.” She lifted her head from Lillian’s shoulder and pulled down the blanket, revealing her right hand and lower arm.
Lillian looked down at it. She clutched her shirt and gagged. “I’m sorry.” She gagged again, then held out her hand, as if to balance herself. “I think I’ll be all right now.” Her gaze travelled up Maddy’s arm.
“I told you there’s nothing to be done.”
“You’re hot,” Lillian murmured, shifting her attention to Maddy’s face, “but your eyes are clear. Are you still eating?”
Maddy nodded.
“You’re awfully thin.”
“Imprisonment did that to me, not the burn.”
Lillian stared at her, then through her.
“Lillian?” Maddy said after a minute had passed.
“I wish we had more time.” Lillian’s eyes refocused on Maddy. “I want to hear all about it. About what happened when you tried to draw the elements again.” She swept out her arm. “About your time here. How you were burned. Everything. But we don’t have time.”
Panic made it difficult for Maddy to breathe. “You’re not leaving?” she managed to say.
“Of course not.” Lillian pulled the blanket over Maddy’s hand, then looked at her. “There may be a way to save you.”
“The healer said there’s no remedy. And I’ve seen burns like this at the monastery. They don’t get better, especially once they’ve gone gangrenous.”
“There is a treatment,” Lillian said quietly. “But it kills more than it saves. That’s why it’s rarely performed. With it, you’ll probably die. Without it, you’ll definitely die.”
She appreciated Lillian’s honesty. “Can you make th
is treatment?” she asked, assuming Lillian must be referring to a medicine.
“I’ve read about it, but I’ve never done it, which means you’ll have even less of a chance of surviving. And we’ll have to do it soon. That’s why we don’t have much time to talk. If you agree to it, I’ll make preparations.” Lillian held up her finger when Maddy drew breath. “Before you make a decision, let me tell you what it will involve.” She grimaced. “I want to cut off your hand.”
“What?”
“I want to cut off your hand.”
“Not ‘what’ as in I didn’t hear you, ‘what’ as in are you out of your mind?”
“It’s your only chance, Maddy. This,” she gestured at the lump under the blanket, “is poisoning you. We have to get rid of it. Otherwise you’ll die. I’d like a chance at more time with you.” She sighed, then reached out and touched Maddy’s cheek. “But it’s your decision.”
So it was a choice between definitely dying in a few days and probably dying in a few hours, and the latter would probably involve a great deal of pain.
“I’ll have to cut off your arm, too,” Lillian said. “But only part of it.”
Well, that made all the difference! “Lillian, I haven’t been able to use my right hand since it was burned. I can’t write. I need help when I eat, though I could probably eat all right at a table. I’d probably struggle to dress myself. I can no longer sew, embroider, do anything that requires two hands. I’ve gone from sort of useless to absolutely bloody useless!”
“You’ll adapt.”
“How? All the folk I know with missing limbs are at the market. Do you know what they do? Sit near the stalls, hoping pity will bring them coin.”
“You’re a Salbine Sister. You won’t become a beggar.”
“I’ll feel like one. Everyone said, ‘Don’t worry about being malflowed, you have other talents. You can still contribute to the community.’ That won’t be true anymore, will it?”
Lillian sighed. “We can waste time talking about this, but let’s not. I have to make preparations.”
“I haven’t said yes yet.”
“Yes, you have. If it was no, you wouldn’t be thinking about what life will be like for you afterward. If you survive. We have to be realistic.”
“Probably won’t survive is better than definitely won’t survive.”
Lillian nodded. “That’s my thinking, too.” She started to rise, but Maddy grabbed her shirt. “Two more minutes, Lillian. I have a couple of things I want to say to you.” She was grateful that Lillian didn’t insult her by insisting they’d have time to talk later, after her hand was gone. She met Lillian’s eyes. “I want you to talk to the governor about a girl named Emmey. I want you to help her get home. Will you do that for me? He’ll tell you where she is.”
“Who is she?”
“We shared a cell. She’s only eight.”
“Eight?” Lillian frowned. “I’m not very good with children.”
“I just want you to help her get home, that’s all. You don’t have to take her yourself.”
“This girl is important to you?”
“Yes.”
Lillian pursed her lips. “I suppose I could hire someone to escort her.”
“It would put my mind at rest.”
“Then that’s what I’ll do.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise,” Lillian said. “In Salbine’s name, I promise.”
“Thank you. Now, listen.” She pressed her palm against Lillian’s cheek. “If I don’t survive this, I don’t want you to blame yourself. I would have died anyway.”
Lillian’s cheek trembled under Maddy’s hand. “I’ll try not to, but I can’t promise.” She reached up and covered Maddy’s hand with hers. “I wish we had more time.”
“So do I.” Maddy swallowed. “I love you, Lillian.”
Lillian gulped. “That’s the sickness talking.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s me. And I love you. Never forget that.” She slipped her hand from under Lillian’s. “Go make those preparations.” She wasn’t at all offended when Lillian left without reciprocating her declaration of love. Lillian had said I love you the moment she’d walked into the room.
*****
Her heart pounding, Lillian closed the door to Maddy’s sickroom and leaned against it. Barnabus and the governor turned to her. “Are you all right, Mistress?” Barnabus asked.
No, she wasn’t, but she’d better pull herself together, and quickly. Otherwise Maddy wouldn’t have even the tiniest chance of pulling through.
Concern creased Barnabus’s face. “How is she?”
“Not good. Terrible.”
“The healer . . . she left me a tea that will help her pass to another realm,” the governor said.
“That was kind of her, but the sister won’t be needing it. We have one chance to save her, albeit a slim one. She’s agreed to let us try. If we fail, she’ll pass quickly on her own.” Lillian met the eyes of each man in turn. “I say ‘we’ because I’ll need your help.”
“Of course, Mistress. What do we have to do?” Barnabus asked.
“We’re going to cut off her hand.”
Barnabus merely blinked. The governor paled, then swayed and steadied himself with a hand to the wall.
“She’ll probably die, but we’ll do it anyway.” Though the governor would likely faint and be of no use. “We’ll need a room with a table long enough to hold the sister,” she said to him, then cast her mind back to the description she’d read of the procedure. If only she had the tome with her. Hopefully her memory was sound. “And I’ll need the following tools: a knife and a saw or axe—sharp!—a pry-bar, a—”
“Begging your pardon, Sister,” the governor said, slightly green. “I’ve heard there’s a physician in Reedwick. Just passing through, he was, so I don’t know if he’s still there.”
“Why didn’t you bring him here to see the sister?”
“I just found out about him this morning,” he mumbled. “And Mazie—the healer—she said there’s nothing to be done.”
Lillian bit her tongue and hoped the physician was still in Reedwick. Even if he’d never performed the procedure, he’d be a great help. An hour or two’s delay wouldn’t make much of a difference to Maddy’s chances of survival. “Do you know where he’s staying?”
“Aye, but as I said, he might be gone.”
“If he hasn’t left, I want him here. Barnabus.”
“Can one of your men take me to him?” Barnabus asked the governor.
“Aye. And then I’ll show you a room I think’ll be all right.” He gestured for them to follow him.
“And have your men gather the tools I need.” She would finish listing them for him after Barnabus set off.
“I will, Sister.”
“Good.” Everything was in motion. Maddy loves me. No, she couldn’t think of Maddy. If she did, she’d lose her nerve. For now she had to remain aloof. Later, she’d weep at Maddy’s bedside, or at her funeral pyre.
Chapter Fourteen
As Lillian examined several cloths and chose the one she thought would be the best fit, Barnabus strode into the kitchen with a smartly dressed man at his side. “The governor told us we’d find you here, Mistress. I present to you Mr. Crandall. And this,” he said to Crandall, “is Mistress Lillian, of Merrin.”
Crandall dropped his bag to the floor and bowed. “It’s always an honour to meet one marked by the gods.”
“And to meet a learned man,” Lillian responded. “I presume Barnabus has told you what we intend to do.”
“Yes,” Crandall said, his face grave. “I’ve never performed the procedure, but I have observed it on several occasions. I must be blunt: of the five I’ve observed, only one survived.”
“We know the odds we face, but we still want to try. I’ve read about the procedure, but never performed it. Do you think you can do it?”
“Yes.”
His confidence bolstered Lillian’s spirits. W
hen they were in that room cutting through Maddy’s arm, it was important that everyone believe that the procedure could succeed, even if they were deluding themselves. “I’d like to apply a poultice to the wound when we’re finished. I’ve prepared the herbs, but I can’t mix the paste and spread it onto the cloth until we’re almost ready for it. It has to be warm.”
“I assume this will promote healing?” Crandall said.
Lillian nodded. “And help to preserve her lifeblood.”
“At the last procedure I observed, the lifeblood was preserved by tying off the vessels that carry it.”
“Oh? That wasn’t mentioned in the tome I read,” Lillian said with interest.
Crandall nodded. “It’s a new development. But you have to be quick, and this being my first time . . . In the others, heat was applied to the wound by way of a hot iron.”
Both Lillian and Barnabus shuddered. “You mean they burned everything shut?” Lillian exclaimed. “Wouldn’t that just inflict another wound?”
Crandall’s mouth turned up at the corners. “Guess which of the five survived? But we might have to consider it. As I said, because of my inexperience, I might not be able to tie quickly enough. We may need to use heat.”
“Forget the hot iron. We’ll focus the heat only on the vessels, and only if we have to.”
“And how do you propose we do that?”
Lillian lifted an eyebrow.
Crandall’s brows shot up. “Of course! Can you be that precise?”
“Yes, I can. But I’m surprised the tome didn’t mention anything about tying or irons. Well, it did mention tying, but only in reference to a strip of cloth above where you plan to cut. Tied tightly.”
Crandall scratched his chin. “I’ve not seen that, but I don’t see what harm it could do. As for your poultice, its healing properties will be beneficial regardless of how we preserve her lifeblood. You should have time to prepare it while I’m covering the wound.”
“Covering the wound?”
“With her skin. I’ll cut the bone at a higher point than the skin, so I can use the skin to close the wound.”
The Salbine Sisters Page 18
