“Of course, Mistress. I’ll return as soon as I know.” He disappeared into the crowd, his hand on his purse.
Lillian patted Baxter’s side. “Not long now.” She scowled. “I don’t know why anyone would enjoy the market. Look at it! All those townsfolk. You’re probably smarter than most of them.” She moved to where he could see her and wagged her finger at him. “And you won’t be able to complain anymore that we don’t go on long rides, not after this. Oh no, no, no. And we’re having quite the ride, aren’t we? I just wish it was under—”
Two children were staring at her, snickering.
“Bugger off!” she roared.
Wide-eyed, they raced away. Children! Why couldn’t they all be locked away until they were at least twelve? Yet another benefit to living behind a monastery’s walls.
The minutes passed, and she grew restless. Given the performance at the west gate, Barnabus would have to hear the same tale from numerous folk before he trusted one over another. She could be in for a long wait, and there was nowhere nearby to sit. But she didn’t have to remain rooted to this very spot. As long as she could see the horses, she’d see Barnabus when he returned. As she scanned the benches outside several of the shops ringing the market, she spotted Barnabus striding toward her. Surely he couldn’t know what had happened already.
Her heart sank when he drew closer. His face was grim. “Salbine smiled on me, Mistress. I ran into a guard who was not only there that night, but carried out the sister’s sentence.”
“What happened?” she croaked.
“They spared her. She was sent to prison. The guard I spoke to rode in the wagon with her.”
If not for Barnabus’s face, she would have felt light-headed with relief. “Then what’s wrong?”
“They’ve had a bit of trouble at the prison, just recently. A couple of prisoners overpowered the guards and set fires.” He hesitated, cleared his throat. “Many of the prisoners died. They were trapped in their cells.”
Lillian couldn’t believe it. “So we’re back to she’s probably dead.” It was too much to bear. She turned away from Barnabus and hugged Baxter, pressing her cheek against his. If only they’d arrived last week . . .
“I’m sorry, Mistress,” Barnabus said.
She held onto Baxter a little longer, then let go of him, keeping her back to Barnabus. “There’s still a chance she’s alive. How far away is the prison?”
“About a day’s journey.” He paused. “The guard also gave me the name of the magistrate and where we can find him. I suggest we go and see him now, to secure the document we’ll need to free the sister, if she’s alive. We can also ask for our horses. We can set off for the prison first thing tomorrow.”
No!
Her inner voice urged her to leave for the prison immediately. Lillian trusted it implicitly; it had never been wrong. Sometimes she wondered if it was the voice of Salbine Herself. She turned to Barnabus. “It’s only just gone midday and the horses are still fresh. Let’s ride on. I want to reach the prison as soon as possible. We can rest along the way and be there by midday tomorrow.”
“But if the sister’s alive—”
“If she’s alive and they insist on a pardon, you can return here and get it. We leave now.”
Barnabus bowed. “Yes, Mistress.”
By the time they trotted through Garryglen’s southern gate, she felt an overpowering urgency to reach the prison. Perhaps it was her way of distracting herself from the real possibility that Maddy was dead, but she didn’t think so. That inner voice had never lied. Maddy was alive, but in trouble. This time, Lillian was determined not to arrive too late.
*****
Maddy carefully signed her name and read over her letter in dismay. Two hours of struggling to write with her left hand, for this? The scrawled letters, barely legible, reminded her of when she’d learned to write, though her novice efforts had been much better than the mess in front of her. Lillian wouldn’t be able to read it!
The governor, whom she now knew as Arthur, peered into the room. “Are you ready for the wax yet?”
“Just a minute.” She carefully wrote
I love you
. If that was all Lillian could read, it would have to be enough. She laid the quill on the tray. “I’m ready now.”
“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 this 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.”