“Maybe you just didn’t delude yourself about the reasons you came here.”
“It doesn’t sound like you did, either. You’ve said several times that you left behind everyone and everything you knew. It couldn’t have been easy. If you weren’t called, why did you do it?”
She’d asked herself the same question numerous times over the past month. It
had
been difficult to leave. How many times had she said to her parents that she’d happily live out her life on the farm, if not for Salbine’s call? How many times had she lain awake at night, torn between her love for Joanna and her desire to serve Salbine? How many times had she cried herself to sleep during those first months at the monastery, homesick, missing Joanna, and wondering if she’d made a terrible mistake? She hadn’t wanted to get away. Her life hadn’t been perfect, but she’d felt blessed. What possible reason would she have had for convincing herself that Salbine had called her? “I don’t understand why She would call me and then deny me,” she said, not having an answer to Lillian’s question.
A horrible thought struck her. Maybe the malflowed sister who’d served at Heath was like Lillian. Maybe she hadn’t been called. Maybe she’d never expected to draw the elements, hadn’t suffered the same crushing sense of disillusionment that dogged Maddy from the moment she opened her eyes in the morning till the moment she closed them at night.
“Perhaps Salbine has other plans for you.” Lillian blew out an exasperated sigh. “I wish I could help, find the right words to show you that your life still has purpose and that you belong here.”
Maddy kissed her cheek again. “Lillian, you’re the one bright spot in my life. You’re helping by being here, and I’m so sorry about how I behaved earlier. I hope I haven’t discouraged you from telling me more about yourself.”
“Oh dear,” Lillian said, flustered. “I’ve already told you the exciting bits.”
She doubted that. Lillian had once mentioned a former relationship. Maddy hoped to hear more about it one day, when Lillian was ready to tell her.
“My twenty-six years here have been fairly uneventful.” Lillian’s eyes brightened. “Well, apart from the last couple of months. Those have been rather interesting.”
“They have, have they?” For one glorious moment, the sun burst through the dark clouds. “And twenty-six years. . .” She slipped her arms around Lillian’s neck. “You were here before I was born. You’ve been here all my life.”
Lillian arched an eyebrow. “Thank you very much for pointing that out to me.” The amusement in her eyes faded. “I am here for you, Maddy. Maybe you feel you have to put on a show for everyone, but you don’t for me.”
She tightened her arms around Lillian and fiercely hugged her, warmed, and a bit frightened. Her feelings for Lillian were intensifying to the point that she was starting to imagine them together in the future. Lillian would be horrified if she knew. And was it prudent to grow closer to a Salbine Sister when everything else associated with Salbine was slipping away from her?
“You never said if you’d come to my birthday supper,” Lillian said, her breath tickling Maddy’s ear.
“Do you still want me to?”
“Of course.”
“Then I’ll be happy to attend.” Though the thought of dining with the abbess and Mistress Elizabeth intimidated her. She hoped she wouldn’t say anything that would make Lillian regret her invitation. “Now, if I promise to behave like an adult, can we continue our afternoon together? I was enjoying myself until I lost my senses.”
“We certainly can. We have to go collect our rubbish, for one thing.”
“You mean you left everything there?” Maddy asked in surprise.
“You’re more important than rubbish.”
Maddy laughed. “More romantic words have never been spoken.” She looped her arm through Lillian’s and pulled her toward the door.
P
leased that she hadn’t made a fool of herself at Lillian’s birthday supper, Maddy slowly climbed the steps to her floor in the Initiates Tower. Lillian had loved the cushion, had seemed deeply touched that Maddy had embroidered the cover for her. Maddy had suggested that Lillian put it on the chair in her laboratory, but Lillian had declared it too nice for her bottom and had said she’d rather have it in her chambers. Unfortunately an invitation to her chambers hadn’t followed, the only disappointment of an otherwise lovely evening. Lillian had allowed Maddy into her laboratory; perhaps she wanted their relationship to have more time behind it before she invited Maddy into her home. After all, she’d waited two months to tell Maddy the abbess was her sister, and might have taken longer if not for her birthday.
A cacophony of excited voices broke into Maddy’s thoughts as she neared her floor’s landing. It sounded like a celebration, an impression that was confirmed when she saw Gwendolyn’s open door, and several sisters from a gathering taking place inside who had apparently spilled out into the hall.
When Rose spotted Maddy, she waved and came over to her, a tankard of ale in her hand. “Our examinations are finished,” she said brightly. “Mistress Ivy said we could have one drink to celebrate, and we all ended up here. We knocked on your door, before I remembered you wouldn’t be in. Do you want to join us?”
“Yes, come on, Maddy,” Grace called, raising her tankard. “Someone pour Maddy an ale.”
Before she knew it, a tankard had been pressed into her hand and she was swept into Gwendolyn’s chambers. “How did supper go?” Rose asked. “I’m surprised to see you, actually. I thought you and the mistress were,” she lowered her voice, “having a romantic evening.”
“No, no, just a nice supper in her chambers.” Maddy sipped her ale and hoped Rose would drop the subject. Lying to her didn’t sit well, but telling the truth would lead to questions she couldn’t answer without revealing Lillian’s relationship to the abbess.
Fortunately Nora chose that moment to throw her arm around Rose and grin at her. “Did you tell Maddy that you won the time competition?”
“Time competition?” Maddy repeated.
Nora nodded. “She lit all the candles and the fireplace in the least amount of time.”
“It was just a silly game, to break the tension before the final test,” Rose said, almost apologetically. “Hardly worth mentioning.”
“Hardly worth mentioning?” Nora repeated incredulously. “You beat Abigail by almost half a minute. Abigail came in second,” she told Maddy.
“Yes, I did,” Abigail said, peering over Nora’s shoulder. “We asked Mistress Beatrice which mistress would win, and she said Mistress Lillian would light everything simultaneously. Can you imagine?”
Nora’s eyes lit up. “Maddy, does Mistress Lillian draw the elements when you’re, uh, you know . . .” She burst into laughter.
“Oh, be quiet, you,” Rose said primly as Abigail doubled over and almost spilled her ale. Not minding a bit of friendly teasing, Maddy couldn’t help but laugh along with them. When everyone had composed themselves, Rose continued. “As I said, it was just a silly game.”
Maddy forced a smile. “No, that’s quite the accomplishment, beating everyone else. You must be pleased.”
“Well, I am, I suppose,” Rose said hesitantly. “Thank you.”
Rose’s reluctance to share her triumph dismayed Maddy. More than likely Rose was only trying to spare Maddy’s feelings, but Maddy would prefer that Rose treat her like everyone else. Up to that point, Rose had. She touched Rose’s arm, then grasped her sleeve and pulled her away from the others. “I’m glad I found out about the competition and you winning. I want to hear about things like that, and your training.”
“And I want to tell you.” Rose’s face scrunched up. “It’s just that I can see it hurts sometimes.”
“It will hurt more if you treat me differently,” Maddy said. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll get over it.” Eventually. She hoped. Or was that the second lie she’d told Rose in the past five minutes?
“So this is where you all got to,” a voice thundered from the hall. “What’s going on here?” Mistress Ivy pushed her way into Gwendolyn’s chambers. “I said one ale. From the looks of it, some of you can’t count.”
“We did have one ale, Mistress.” Gwendolyn lifted an empty pail from the floor. “This was mine.” She giggled, swaying, and the swinging pail narrowly missed Grace’s head. “Oops.”
Mistress Ivy eyed the four other pails sitting on the floor and frowned. “I don’t want you all moaning at the assembly tomorrow, so the celebration’s over.” She swept her arms toward the door. “Come on, now. Back to your chambers.” Everyone groaned. “Oh, save it. Come on—out! And don’t forget to return your tankards to the dining hall tomorrow.” Shaking her head, Mistress Ivy surveyed the group. “Sister Nora, Sister Grace, you don’t look like you’re swaying. Help me with these pails.”
Maddy shuffled out with the others. “What assembly?” she whispered to Rose.
“Air assignments,” Rose whispered back. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”
“Good night,” Maddy said as she slipped into her chambers, then closed the door with a sigh. Why shouldn’t Rose and the others treat her differently? She
was
different. And no matter how much they tried to include her, she’d always feel as if she was on the outside looking in. All the initiates would be at the air assembly—except her. She understood why Mistress Ivy hadn’t invited her and was relieved that she wouldn’t have to attend. What possible purpose would attending the meeting serve, other than to make her feel worse about her condition? Having to listen to everyone chatter about their assigned tutors and their upcoming air lessons would be bad enough. She did want to hear about her friends’ training, but Rose was right. It often hurt. Terribly.
She disrobed, recited a short prayer that sounded empty, and climbed into bed, only to lie awake, wishing Lillian was with her. But they’d spent the last two nights together. Maddy wouldn’t mind falling asleep next to Lillian every night, but they weren’t consorts and so didn’t share chambers. Acting as if they did would raise eyebrows. Maybe that was why she’d never seen the inside of Lillian’s chambers—maybe an initiate in a mistress’s chambers was worse than a mistress in an initiate’s. Or maybe Lillian didn’t want to share that part of her life yet.
Maddy rolled onto her side and closed her eyes, but sleep eluded her, as it often had in the past month. Gone were the days when she lay her head on her pillow with a feeling of contentment, secure in the knowledge that she was serving Salbine and looking forward to the next day with enthusiasm. Now she felt as if she were biding her time until she figured out what to do with her life. Her chambers felt less like home. Her sisters in the Order were sharing experiences she’d never share with them. She no longer belonged.
Tears prickled at her eyelashes. She wiped them away, pulled the blanket up to her shoulders, and said a silent prayer.
Please Salbine, if I’m supposed to be here, can you give me some type of sign? I don’t know where I belong anymore. Please, Salbine.
She opened her eyes and stared into the darkness. She hadn’t really expected to receive a vision or hear a voice, so she wasn’t disappointed by the same old stony silence that had greeted her cries for enlightenment since she’d learned of her condition.
She woke the next morning in a gloomy mood. The hollowness and detachment she felt at morning prayers only worsened it. By the time she arrived at the library, the prospect of skimming a dusty tome all morning depressed her further. What did she hope to find? Words that would suddenly make everything all right?
Despite her suspicion that such words didn’t exist, she carried one of the remaining tomes Mistress Averill had set aside to the podium and began to read. Sister Clara bustled into the library, breaking Maddy’s fragile concentration. “You’ll have much more to read when I return from Heath,” she said. “I’m setting off in a few days.”
“How long do you expect to be away?” Maddy asked.
“Oh dear . . .” Sister Clara pursed her lips. “According to Mistress Averill, there’s quite a bit of material. I can’t possibly review it all in one visit, or I’ll be away for years. I plan to focus on material that offers insight into the genesis of the malflowed condition, if there is any. Observations recorded by the malflowed sister’s contemporaries will also be useful, of course.”
“What about her personal observations? Mistress Averill said she left behind journals.”
“I’ll have a look at them, but they’ll probably have to wait for another visit.”
Maddy swallowed. “But I was hoping to learn more about the sister herself, about how she learned of her condition and lived with it.”
“I know that would be helpful to you, but I have to consider what would be helpful to the monastery at large. Mistress Averill says I’m to record information that will help us further our understanding of the malflowed condition, and that’s what I intend to do.”
“Reading the sister’s journals may help us to understand.”
“I doubt it. You’re malflowed, and you don’t know anything more about it than we do, do you? And it’s not all about you, Maddy. You’ll come to appreciate that in time.” Sister Clara’s face brightened and she placed her hands against her chest. “Oh, but listen to me, lecturing an initiate. It wasn’t long ago that I was in the Initiates Tower. I’ll tell you what, I’ll sneak in a few passages from the journals, just for you. It’ll be our secret.” She patted Maddy’s arm. “I have to see the mistress. I’ll see you later.”
Maddy stared after her in disbelief. Sister Clara would sneak in a few passages from the journals? A few bloody passages? And yes, Sister Clara’s journey
was
all about Maddy, as a matter of fact—at least, it was supposed to be. Why else did she think she was going? If not for Maddy’s condition, there wouldn’t be a visit to Heath.
She sighed and turned back to the tome, but her mind was in turmoil. She should be going to Heath. She should review the material and decide what was important—for her! She couldn’t care less about what was important for the monastery at large. Perhaps she should, but honestly, she didn’t. Had the malflowed sister at Heath lived out her life at the monastery in quiet despair, or had she somehow reconnected with Salbine, found meaning without the elements, understood her place in the world again? Maybe her journals would be disappointing, an account of her daily activities with no reflection or insights into her condition. Maddy would rather know that right away, than pin her hopes on a second visit to Heath, whenever that might happen.