“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.”
Barnabus nodded. “Yes, Abbess.”
“Now, find out what happened, and without a fuss.” Sophia looked at Lillian. “I don’t want to hear stories about towns burning, do you understand? We, ourselves, didn’t know about the malflowed condition until recently. So watch your temper and let Barnabus do the talking. Don’t make me regret sending you.”
“All I care about is finding Maddy and bringing her back,” Lillian said. “If I have to hold my tongue while I listen to simpletons spew nonsense, I will.”
Sophia shot Barnabus a wry look. “Now you see why I’m sending you with her.”
He caught Lillian’s eye and cleared his throat. “I’ll bring her back in one piece, Abbess.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about
her
. I’m worried about everyone else.” Sophia nodded wearily. “But yes, do bring her back in one piece. And try not to let her offend everyone between here and Garryglen.”
Lillian silently fumed. They sounded like two parents talking about a recalcitrant child.
“I should go make preparations, Abbess. With your permission.”
“Of course.”
Barnabus bowed his head and strode from the study.
Sophia shifted her attention to Lillian. “Will you dine with Elizabeth and me tonight?”
“I won’t be good company.”
“I don’t care if you don’t say a word. I just want you with us.”
Bloody Sophia, getting all sentimental! Lillian didn’t need that, not when she was struggling to hold herself together. “All right.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “I should go. I have to see Dorothy, see if she’ll take over a few things for me in the laboratory.”
“If she protests, tell her to see me. But I doubt she will.”
Lillian nodded, anxious to get away. “I’ll see you later, then.” Her mind in a jumble, she left the study. So much to do, which was a blessing. She wouldn’t have time to think about Maddy, not until she lay her head on her pillow and stared into the darkness. Then the torment would begin.
M
addy waited patiently while Emmey, her face screwed up in concentration, stared at the letters traced into the smear of sand they’d persuaded one of the guards to dump into a corner. “This one’s hard, Miss. There’s too many letters.”
“Just do exactly what you did when we worked on two letters. Sound it out.”
“All right. Um . . . c, ca—t.” Her eyes widened. “Cat!” she squealed. “It’s cat!” She leaped to her feet and ran around the cell.
Maddy didn’t know where Emmey got the energy. “Careful, Emmey. You don’t want to hurt yourself.” Emmey’s bony elbows would bruise easily if she bumped them against the cell walls.
Emmey stopped several feet from Maddy and twirled around.
“All right.” Maddy scratched her arm, then smoothed the sand and traced a new word into it. “Come try this one.”
“Dog,” Emmey said, still twirling.
“How do you know it’s dog?” Maddy asked, perturbed. “You haven’t even looked at it!”
“Everyone always talks about cats and dogs at the same time, Miss.” She came over to look at the letters.
“There’s no point now.” Maddy rubbed her hand over
dog
to erase it. “We’ll try that one another time, when you don’t already know what it is. Hmm.” She traced
egg
into the sand. “Try this one.”
Emmey studied it. “E—g—g. Egug?”
“Egg.”
“No, egug. There are two
g
’s, Miss.”
“Yes, but the second one is silent, meaning you don’t say it.”
Emmey threw up her arms. “How am I supposed to know?”
“You learn through experience. When two of the same letters come right after the other, one of them usually isn’t spoken. And if you sound out a word and it doesn’t mean anything to you, try it another way. Here’s another funny rule.” She rubbed out
egg
and traced
fin
. “Read this.”
Emmey sighed. “F—in. Fin!”
“Right!” Maddy added the letter
e
to the end. “Now try this.”
“Mmm. Fineh? No.”
“See, this is another funny rule. Remember when I taught you how to pronounce
a
,
e
,
i
,
o
, and
u
? The vowels?”
Emmey nodded.
“If a word ends with an
e
, then sometimes—but not all the time—that changes the sound of the vowel that came before it.”
Emmey blew out some air. “This is stupid.”
“No, it’s not,” Maddy said, though she agreed that the rules should be more consistent. “Most of the time, when a word ends with an
e
, the
e
, is silent and you say the previous vowel differently. It sounds like the letter. So in this case, you’d say the letter
i
. Now try it.”
“All right.” Emmey fixed her eyes on the sand. “F—eye—n. Fine!”
Maddy smiled. “Right! But, as usual, sometimes when you use that rule, the word won’t make sense. Now, don’t be frightened, but try this one.” She traced
Salbine
into the sand.
Emmey’s eyes bulged.
“It’s not as hard as you think. Just sound it out.”
“I don’t know, Miss. I’ll try.” Emmey clenched her fists and gazed at the letters. “Sal . . . b—eye—n. No. Oh, but I know what it sounds like, Miss! There’s no word like Salbineh, so it must be Salbin!”
“Right! That’s one case where the last
e
is silent, but it doesn’t change the sound of the vowel that came before it.”
Emmey rolled her eyes. “Whoever made up these rules is stupid. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t. It’s dumb, Miss. But I’m learning how to read, right?”
Maddy patted Emmey’s back. “Yes, you are.”
“Don’t know why,” the girl muttered.
Maddy wanted to tell Emmey that she would get out of this cell one day, but she wouldn’t make promises she wasn’t sure she could keep. “It helps to pass the time, doesn’t it? And once you know how to read, you’ll be able to write. You can make up your own sentences, write your—”