They both twisted toward the door as the key turned in the lock. Maddy frowned; it was too early for the slop that passed for supper. Graves stepped into the cell and beckoned to Maddy. “Come with me.”
“Is someone here for me?” she asked, her spirit soaring.
He guffawed. “No, but the gov seems to think there will be eventually, so he wants you to have a bath.” He sniffed the air and grimaced. “I can understand why. Come on.”
Her shoulders slumped. “What about Emmey? She could use a bath.”
Graves shook his head. “Gov didn’t say anything about her.”
“Surely he wouldn’t mind if she bathed. What harm would it do?”
Graves hesitated. “I suppose it doesn’t make much sense, you having one and then putting you back into a cell with a filthy pig.”
Maddy’s jaw clenched. “She’s not a filthy pig,” she said through gritted teeth. “She just needs a bath, like I do.”
Graves shrugged. “Suit yourself. But if she tries anything, you’ll be the one in trouble.”
She pushed herself to her feet and reached for Emmey’s hand. “Come on, Emmey.”
They followed Graves from the cell. Another guard waiting outside fell in behind them, but his presence was unnecessary. Even if Maddy weren’t weak and fatigued, she wouldn’t attempt an escape that was bound to fail. A prisoner shrieked, but Maddy barely noticed; she’d grown so used to the screams and groans that she could sleep soundly through them. But Emmey’s grip tightened on Maddy’s hand and she leaned into Maddy’s leg. “It’s all right,” Maddy murmured, giving Emmey a reassuring smile.
“In here.” Graves ushered them into a small cell containing a tub of water. “There’s soap and a pail, and some linens. None for the girl, though.” He paused in the doorway. “Bang on the door when you’re finished. Don’t take all day.” He stepped out and swung the windowless door shut, then locked it.
“Let’s get you in first,” Maddy said to Emmey. “If I go first, they might rush us out before you’re finished.” She eyed Emmey’s rags. Emmey’s body was probably holding them together, and once they were off, Maddy couldn’t see Emmey wanting to put them back on. She certainly wouldn’t, if it were her. She smiled. “Off with your . . . clothes, then.”
While Emmey undressed, Maddy examined the linens: a rough shift, a skirt, and a shirt. All looked a little big, but anything would be better than her dirty shift and robe.
“I’m ready, Miss.”
Maddy moved over and lifted Emmey into the tub. “It’s not too hot, is it?”
“No.”
“Here.” She handed Emmey the soap, wincing at the girl’s prominent ribs. “I’ll do your back and hair when you’ve finished with the rest of you.”
She turned back to the linens. If only she had a needle, thread, and a pair of scissors. She could wash her robe in the bathwater, then try to fashion a dress from it for Emmey. Or perhaps she could alter her shift? It wasn’t as bulky as her robe. She could shorten it and roll up the sleeves. The end result wouldn’t look pretty and would hang off Emmey’s thin frame, but it would do.
“You can do my back now, Miss.”
“You’re not finished already!” Maddy exclaimed. “Come on, give yourself a good scrub.” She unbuttoned her robe and removed it, then knelt next to the tub and dipped the pail into the water. “I’ll start on your hair, though. Close your eyes.” She poured water over Emmey’s head. “Give me the soap for a minute.” When she’d worked up a good lather, she handed the soap back to Emmey and washed the girl’s hair, her fingers working the soap down to Emmey’s scalp.
“You’re blonde!” Maddy breathed as the dirt fell away. “I thought your hair was brown.” She ignored the lice, but seeing them made her want to scratch her ears, even though she’d grown used to the persistent itch. Sister Garnet handed out oils to those who came to the adepts because they had lice. Simple soap wouldn’t get rid of the pests. She rinsed Emmey’s hair and rubbed it dry with one of the rags Graves had failed to mention. “I’ll do your back now,” she said, taking the soap.
“My ma never did my back,” Emmey said.
“No?” Maddy soaped up Emmey’s back. “Do your ma and pa know you’re in here?” she asked, wondering if Emmey would answer. She’d tried numerous times to find out if Emmey’s parents were alive, but Emmey had always changed the subject. Not this time. “I don’t got no pa.”
“Oh. Well, what about your ma?”
“She knows I’m here, Miss.”
The poor woman must be going out of her mind. Likely a commoner, she’d be powerless to help Emmey. “Does she live close by?”
“Dunno.”
“Where does your ma live?” Maddy pressed.
“Pinewood.”
That wasn’t too far from Leaton, but if she’d understood a guard correctly, it was quite far from the prison, which was apparently about a day’s ride from Garryglen. How had Emmey ended up here? “Were you visiting someone when you nicked that purse?”
“Are you done with my back, Miss? I want to get out.”
At least Maddy had gleaned a bit of information this time. “All right, out you come, then.” She helped Emmey out of the tub and handed her one of the larger rags. “Dry yourself with this.”
Forget about altering this so Emmey can wear it,
Maddy thought as she pulled her filthy shift over her head and smelled its pungent odour. It was beyond salvaging, especially using dirty tub water. They lived barely above the level of animals, so she’d do fine with just a skirt and shirt. “Don’t put those clothes back on,” she said quickly when Emmey reached for her dirty rags. “Wrap yourself in that clean shift over there.”
“But it’s yours, Miss.”
“No, when we get back to our cell, I’ll try to alter it for you.” Shivering, Maddy lowered herself into the tub. The water was dirty and lukewarm, but she didn’t care.
Emmey leaned over the tub’s side. “You’re starting to look like me, Miss.”
Maddy looked down at herself, hardly recognizing her emaciated body. Her insides weren’t faring any better. She still experienced bouts of nausea and didn’t feel quite right within herself. Was it because of her living conditions and the lack of nourishing food, or had she suffered permanent damage when she’d tried to draw the elements? Doing so hadn’t killed her, but she was sure the next time would. She could never try it again, no matter what was at stake. The elements were truly closed to her. And there was no point trying to figure out what her life meant, whether her place was still within the Order, if she was going to die within these prison walls.
Was there anyone on the way from Merrin, or had they assumed she was dead, mourned, and carried on with their lives? Since she had no idea how long she’d been imprisoned, she didn’t know if someone should have arrived by now. When she’d first explored her and Emmey’s cell, she’d found a series of marks a former prisoner had scratched into a stone. He or she must have been counting the days; without marking their passage, they all blended together. Maddy had bled once, but didn’t know how much time had passed since then. If Jonathan hadn’t made it to Merrin, had the abbess realized they were missing, or was she still waiting for word from them? If he had, what had he told the abbess about Maddy’s fate?
And what about Lillian? Maddy tried not to think about her; the resulting loneliness and longing was almost impossible to bear. Wouldn’t Lillian be wondering why she hadn’t received another letter, or would she think Maddy had forgotten about her? Maddy never would, but Lillian had sometimes seemed insecure about their relationship, as if she’d expected Maddy to call it off at a moment’s notice. She might be quick to jump to the wrong conclusion. It could be months before someone arrived at the prison—if someone arrived.
“I can do your back, Miss, and your hair,” Emmey said, bringing Maddy back to her surroundings.
“You can do my back, but I can wash my hair.”
“Oh, but can I pour the water over your head, Miss?”
Maddy chuckled. “Yes, you can pour the water. But give me a moment to soak.” She leaned back against the tub and closed her eyes, wanting the illusion of luxury for just a minute. Then she’d open her eyes and face the harsh reality of her life, and smile at the brave little girl who shared it with her.
*****
Lillian handed Baxter’s reins to the inn’s stable hand and hobbled after Barnabus, who was already on his way to make arrangements with the innkeeper. His easy stride mocked her—his inner thighs obviously weren’t as sore as hers. And did she still have an arse? She slipped one hand behind her and felt for it. Still there, and still numb. At least she’d sleep in a real bed tonight, not in a roll in some accommodating farmer’s barn. And, mercifully, there wasn’t a crop in sight. If she had to murmur a few words of blessing over one more field, she’d scream. Did they actually think Salbine cared about their bloody crops? That was more Turena’s domain.
But conversing with farmers along the way hadn’t been a complete waste of time. Several had spoken to Maddy; one had hosted her and Jonathan in the same barn as Lillian and Barnabus. He’d marvelled that two sisters had graced his farm within such a short period of time, regarding it as a sign that his fields would be bountiful that season. Everyone spoke highly of the sister who’d patiently chatted with them, commiserating with their worries and offering encouraging words.
Lillian must have disappointed in comparison, but reaching out to folk came naturally to Maddy, a strength she unfortunately didn’t appreciate. Maddy could listen to the same complaint a hundred times and sincerely empathize again and again. Idle chatter didn’t bore her—or perhaps she was adept at not letting her boredom show. Lillian was always ready to strangle someone after a minute of it, to put both her and the chatterer out of their misery. Thank Salbine for Barnabus. He picked up her slack and didn’t try to pretend they were close friends. She could understand why Sophia held him in such high esteem.
Barnabus had waited for her by the inn’s entrance. He held the door open for her and she nodded her thanks as she stepped past him into a noisy common room. The stables had appeared almost full, with barely enough room for Baxter, Barnabus’s horse Griffin, and their packhorse, Ticky. Considering this was the first inn they’d encountered along the road in three days, it wasn’t surprising that many travellers had decided to stop here for a meal and a roof for the night. Nobody took much notice of Lillian in her nondescript brown travelling cloak.
Barnabus strolled over to the man tending the bar. “We’re looking for lodging,” he said cheerfully.
The man stopped wiping a tankard and glanced at Lillian. “A room for you and the wife?”
Lillian bit her tongue. Hard.
“No, two rooms,” Barnabus said, unruffled. “We’re not man and wife. I’m a Salbine Defender, and this is Mistress Lillian, from the Merrin monastery.”
Lillian removed her riding gloves. The grovelling usually started at this point, but the innkeeper suspiciously eyed her and Barnabus up and down, taking particular interest in Lillian’s hands. “We had a sister through here not long ago,” he said. “Or what we thought was a sister. Turned out she wasn’t. A wicked woman, she was, using Salbine’s name to steal.”
If this kept up, Lillian’s tongue would bleed. Barnabus had reiterated several times that they weren’t to defend Maddy or to become embroiled in arguments about her. They were to find out what happened and then worry about restoring Maddy’s reputation.
“Hadn’t seen a sister through here in ages, and now all of a sudden two—or supposedly two—appear on my doorstep barely months apart.” His voice had risen; those sitting nearby grew quiet. “This some new racket making the rounds? You should have tried somewhere else.”
“I assure you that we are who we say we are,” Barnabus said stiffly.
“And that’s supposed to be good enough?”
Barnabus reached for his travel bag.
“Oh, don’t bother with documents, I can’t read them.” His eyes narrowed. “And don’t think you’ll get away with waving them in my face. Your documents mean nothing, not after that other sister. Might be best if you carried on your way.”
Enough of this nonsense! Lillian drew air.
The innkeeper’s eyes bulged when his feet left the floor. He flailed about as he rose to the ceiling; the rag he held dropped from his fingers. Gasps rose behind Lillian. “Salbine preserve me,” the innkeeper wailed, his arms and legs dangling. All eyes were on the innkeeper; several travellers had risen to their feet, their mouths open.
“Since he doesn’t want to host us, I suppose we’ll have to find another inn,” she said to Barnabus. They turned and walked away.
“No! Please, let me down! I’m sorry, Sister. Please!”
For a moment Lillian considered abruptly cutting the flow and unceremoniously dumping him to the floor. But he might hurt himself, and that would mean a fuss, and more wailing, and probably her supper would be late. Her stomach grumbled, underscoring that last point. With a sigh, she gently lowered the innkeeper to the floor.
“Oh Sister, forgive me,” he cried, throwing himself at her feet and grabbing her cloak. “What can I do to make it up to you?”
He could get his grimy hands off her cloak, for a start. She stepped back. When he still clung to her, she took another step back and fought the urge to give him an encouraging kick. He finally let go.
“We’ve had travellers through here from Garryglen, see,” he said, gazing up at her. “They had a bit of trouble there, with someone posing as a sister, the very sister who stayed here not long ago. Warned us there could be more about, asking for handouts.” His brow furrowed. “Is that why you’re here? You’re on your way to Garryglen to see if there are more?”
She ignored his question. “Did any of these travellers mention what happened to the sister?”
“The one posing as a sister, you mean? Aye. Salbine took her.”
Lillian’s breath caught in her throat. No.
The innkeeper rose hesitantly, then straightened when Lillian didn’t react. “Salbine swooped right out of the sky, She did. Taller than all the trees, with flames shooting out of Her eyes. Reduced the poser to a pile of ash. Nothing left of her, I hear.”
Oh, for Lina’s sake!
A nearby traveller found his voice. “It’s true, Sister. One of the guards told me.”