She couldn’t, but other sisters certainly could.
“My ma said people like you belong to Salbine.”
“Do you know who Salbine is?”
Emmey let Maddy know that she considered the question condescending by rolling her eyes and sighing loudly.
“Well, your ma was right.” And where was her ma now? “I belong to the Salbine Order.”
“You mean you live in one of them mono—monetaries?” Emmey said, wide-eyed.
“Monasteries. Yes, I do.”
“Never seen one, just heard of them. How did you end up here, then?”
“Do you know anything about the sisters in the monasteries?” Maddy asked, wondering where to start.
Emmey’s mouth formed an O. “My ma said you can make fire!” she breathed. “Is that why you’re in here? You hurt someone?”
“No, I—”
“Oh, and you like ladies!”
Maddy laughed. Her head hurt, but her mood lightened.
Emmey scratched her leg. “So why you in here, then?”
How to explain? “You’re right, the Salbine Sisters can make fire. But we call it drawing the elements. What usually happens is that a little while after we’ve, uh, decided to live at the monastery for the rest of our lives, we learn how to draw them.” She paused to see if Emmey was already bored or confused, then went on. “When I started to learn, I had problems. It turns out I can’t draw the elements. If I try to, I get sick.”
“So they put you in here?”
“The other sisters? No, they didn’t. But we don’t know much about sisters . . . like me. I was on my way to a monastery to learn about another sister like me when someone wanted me to draw the elements. When I said I couldn’t, they accused me of not being a sister and told me that if I didn’t draw the elements, uh, something bad would happen to me. So I tried, and I failed. That’s how I ended up here.”
Emmey rocked on her heels. “And that’s why you’re not well? Because you tried to do it?”
“Yes. But as I said, it’ll pass.”
“But are you really a sister, Miss?”
Maddy wished she knew the answer, though when she asked herself the question, she meant in Salbine’s eyes. Was she a sister to other sisters? Apparently. To those outside the monasteries? Apparently not. But she’d taken her vows. She belonged to the Salbine Order. That was how Emmey meant the question. “Yes, I am,” she said, not offended that Emmey had asked.
Emmey seemed to believe her. “You shouldn’t be in here, then.”
“No, I shouldn’t. But it could be a while before the sisters find out I’m here and come for me.”
“You mean you think you’ll leave?” Emmey’s eyes filled with sorrow, and she shook her head. “No, Miss. Nobody ever leaves here, not walking.”
A key turned in the lock. Madison stepped into the cell and took a quick look around, then beckoned to someone outside. Graves entered, carrying a tray. Emmey stood up. “Out of the way, child,” Graves muttered. He nudged Maddy with his foot. “Sit up, if you want this.”
Her arms trembled as she pushed herself upright. A small hand helped steady her. “Sit against the wall, Miss,” Emmey whispered, pushing Maddy’s arm in the direction she should move. Maddy dragged herself backward and leaned against the wall, already exhausted. Graves set the tray on the floor next to her, then left the cell with Madison. A moment later, a blanket flew through the open doorway and landed on the floor near Emmey. The cell door thudded shut.
“I guess this is yours, Miss,” Emmey said, examining it. “It’s not as worn as mine.” She dropped the blanket and turned to the tray. “Only one bowl and pitcher,” she said with a sigh.
“We’ll share.” Maddy twisted toward the tray, not sure she had the strength to lift it.
Emmey skirted around her. “I’ll get it for you.” She set the tray on Maddy’s lap and held its sides.
Maddy dipped the spoon into the broth and brought it to her mouth. When she sniffed at it, her stomach didn’t recoil. Warm, not hot, it soothed her on its way down. “Your turn,” she said, holding the spoon out to Emmey.
Emmey shook her head. “You need it more than I do, Miss,” she said, her eyes on the broth.
“How about I’ll have two spoonfuls and you have one, then? Would that be all right?”
“If you don’t mind,” Emmey said, after a moment. “But you drink all the water. I don’t need it.”
“All right.” Maddy swallowed her second spoonful and handed the spoon to Emmey, who quickly spooned broth into her mouth and handed the spoon back.
“We should get supper later,” Emmey said, “and if Evans brings it, we might get extra.”
“Oh, why is that?” Maddy asked, pausing between her two spoonfuls.
“Because he likes me! He said it won’t be long now before he’ll visit me and bring me things, because I’ll be his special friend.”
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?”
“The 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.