The Salbine Sisters (21 page)

“Thank you.” Maddy hoped she’d have the courage not to use it, but knowing she had the option could help her endure whatever she faced before she passed.

“I’ll let you rest, then. If you need anything else, ask the governor to send for me. I’ll come.”

“You’re very kind. Would you do me one favour?”

“If it’s something I can do, yes.”

“Would you stay with the girl outside while I speak privately to the governor for a minute?”

“Aye.” She patted Maddy’s shoulder. “Salbine keep you.”

“And you.”

The healer left the room. Moments later, the governor came in and shut the door. “Mazie says you want to talk to me.”

“I do.”

“If you’re wanting somewhere more comfortable, I can probably find a place for you in Reedwick, the town just down the hill. I have friends there who’ll help. I’d like to help.” He wrung his hands. “Because you’re a real sister, aren’t you?”

She met his eyes. “Yes, I am.”

He dropped to one knee beside the bed. “I suspected. I would have got a message out, but I can’t write, you see. And those that brought you, they made it clear that you were to stay, that if you got out, the folk would tear you apart. I couldn’t risk involving anyone else. The guards . . . most thought you guilty. We’re only a day from Garryglen. We’d all heard about what happened at the town hall. The guards would have reported any special treatment. I couldn’t risk it. I have a wife and kids.”

“Why did you believe me?”

“If you were guilty, you would have screamed about your innocence at the top of your lungs, day and night. The number of times I’ve seen that, I tell you . . .” He rolled his eyes. “And the way you’ve cared for the child . . . Nay, the longer you were here, the more I knew. I kept hoping someone would come for you. I’m sorry I couldn’t offer you more than a tub now and then.” He bowed his head.

“You did what you could, and you’re showing me great kindness now,” she said, wanting to ease the sorrow and regret evident in his voice.

“Let me move you somewhere more comfortable.” He lifted his head. “Please!”

“You’d find yourself in the same trouble as you would have if you’d helped me before. This bed is as good a deathbed as any.” A hay pile would have been luxurious, compared to the cell’s stone floor.

“I can maybe try to get a message out.”

“No. I don’t want you to put yourself at risk, not when it’s too late. But you can do something else for me.”

“What? Anything.”

“Let Emmey go.”

His eyes moistened. He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Why not? What’s she doing here?”

“A very powerful man put her here, Sister. If he ever found out I let her go—”

“Who is he?”

The governor remained silent.

“Has he checked on her since she arrived?” Maddy pressed.

He hesitated, then shook his head.

“Then let her go. If anyone asks, she perished in the—” She was going to say fire, but what exactly had happened? “Was it an uprising?”

“Nay. A couple of new prisoners overpowered the two numbskulls who brought them in and used their weapons to kill a guard and get his keys. The lucky few they released rampaged and set fires wherever they could.” He lowered his voice. “Several guards died, and only a few prisoners survived. Most died in their cells—the smoke. Many of them were destined for the gallows, but you can’t help but feel sorry for the poor sods.”

“And poor Emmey died in her cell, too. Those friends you said would help . . . get them to help her. Because it would be wrong to keep her here, you know that.”

“I do know of a lady who keeps her eye on the urchins,” he said slowly. “Doesn’t give them a roof, but makes sure they get a bit to eat every day.”

It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. At least Emmey would be free and have a chance at a life. “Then take Emmey to her. Today. The less people who’ve seen her here after the fire, the better. Can the healer be trusted?”

“Aye. And I’ll do what you ask, Sister. Reckon I owe you that much. I’ll take her right now.”

“Can you bring her in first?” A lump formed in Maddy’s throat. “I’d like to say good-bye.”

He pushed to his feet. “I’ll get her.”

“Wait.” Maddy struggled to a sitting position and covered her right hand with the blanket. The governor adjusted the pillow behind her. “Thank you,” Maddy said. “You can bring her in now.”

As soon as he opened the door, Emmey rushed into the room. “Did the healer make you better, Miss?” she asked, plopping down next to the bed again.

“Call for me. I’ll be right outside,” the governor said to Maddy, then he nodded sadly and closed the door.

Maddy patted the bed with her left hand. “Why don’t you come up here and sit with me for a minute?”

Emmey scrambled eagerly onto the bed and sat next to her.

“I want you to go with the governor to Reedwick,” Maddy said, her forced cheerfulness making her voice shrill. “He’s decided to let you go. He knows someone who’ll watch out for you.”

“What about you, Miss?”

“I have to stay here. I’m not well enough to leave.”

“I’m not going without you, Miss.” Emmey’s mouth pressed into a thin line.

“You have to go now, Emmey. If the man who put you in here comes looking for you, the governor will pretend you died in the fire. He won’t be able to do that if you stay here and everyone sees you.” Some already had, but that couldn’t be helped. It probably wouldn’t matter. Maddy suspected this mysterious man had left Emmey to rot and forgotten about her.

“Then I’ll just stay in here, with you. Nobody will see me.” Emmey’s face brightened. “And then, when you’re better, we can leave,” she squealed. Her words tumbled out. “Because he’ll let you go too, right, Miss? He knows you’re a sister now. And then you’ll take me home.”

Maddy wished it could be so. Emmey’s shining face hurt her more than any physical injury ever could. Lying to her was wrong. In some ways, Maddy was closer to Emmey than she was to anyone else; their shared ordeal had forged a tight bond. Emmey understood what it felt like to be a caged animal. She’d earned Maddy’s respect and admiration, and deserved the truth, no matter how grave. “Emmey,” Maddy said quietly, “I won’t be leaving.”

Emmey gave her an incredulous look. “Yes, you will! I heard the gobernor say to the healer that you’re a sister. He knows, Miss. He’ll let you go. Why would he let me go and not you?”

“Because I’m not going to get better.”

Emmey blinked. “What?”

“The burns on my hand—they’re bad, Emmey. They won’t get better, and they’ll make me sick. I’ll . . .” She faltered when Emmey’s face tightened and her chin trembled. “I’ll soon leave this realm.”

“No! You’ll get better!”

Maddy shook her head. “No, I won’t.” Her voice was barely a whisper. She drew a deep breath. “Very few survive burns like mine. Even if I were stronger, the chances would be slim. So you need to go, Emmey. There’s no reason for you to stay here.”

A tear rolled down Emmey’s cheek. “You’re here, Miss. You shouldn’t . . .” She swallowed. “You shouldn’t die on your own.”

“I won’t be alone. The governor will be here, and the guards.”

“But they don’t love you, Miss,” Emmey said, the tears coming faster and her nose running. “You should be with someone who loves you.”

Oh, no, she couldn’t cry, not in front of Emmey. She reached for Emmey with her left arm and hugged her close to her chest. “It’s because I love you, Emmey, that I want you to go. I want you to be free, to have a chance to eventually find your way home. I’m sorry I can’t take you myself. I promised I would.”

“Don’t feel bad, Miss,” Emmey said between sniffles. “I know you would, if you could. But why can’t I stay with you until . . . until you’re gone?”

“I’ve already explained why you can’t stay. And it would help me to know that you’re away from here, that you won’t be thrown back into a cell.”

“You mean it would make you happy?”

Maddy nodded. “It would, indeed. So I want you to go with the governor. And I want you to stick close to the lady who’ll care for you. From what I understand, she won’t have a bed for you, so see where the other children sleep. They might know of a friendly stable or another safe place.”

“All right, Miss.”

Maddy comforted Emmey a bit longer—or was Emmey comforting her? When Emmey’s sniffles subsided, Maddy tapped her back. “You’d better get going, Emmey.”

Emmey wiped her red eyes, where more tears lurked. “Do you need help with anything before I go, Miss?”

“No. But I want you to remember something for me and maybe do something later.”

“What?”

“If you ever see a woman with markings like mine on her hands, I want you to tell her what happened to me. Do you think you can do that?”

Emmey nodded.

“You’ll need to tell her my name. Can you remember this? Sister Maddy, from Merrin. Say it.”

“Sister Maddy, from . . .”

“Merrin.”

“Sister Maddy, from Merrin.”

“That’s it.”

“Sister Maddy, from Merrin!” Sorrow quickly replaced Emmey’s triumphant smile. “I wish I didn’t have to go, Miss.”

“Me too. But it’ll be better this way, for both of us.”

Emmey leaned in and hugged her fiercely. “I’ll never forget you, Miss.”

Fighting tears, Maddy couldn’t reply. Assuming that since her right hand was useless, her left hand would be acceptable to Salbine, she placed it on Emmey’s head. “May Salbine guide you. May Salbine provide for you. May Salbine keep you.” Her voice trembled. “And may you find your way home, and have a long and wonderful life.” Her composure threatening to flee completely, Maddy held Emmey against her and called for the governor.

“It’s time for her to go,” she said to him.

“Come on, lass.” When Emmey didn’t budge, he gently pulled her away. Maddy was grateful when he lifted Emmey into his arms and held her face against his shoulder. “I’ll be back soon. There’s a guard outside, if you need anything. He’s a good man. The one on tonight will do right by you, too,” he said over Emmey’s loud sobs.

“Thank you.”

His forehead creased. “Best be off, then.”

“Good-bye, Miss,” Emmey said, his shoulder muffling her words.

“Good-bye, Emmey.”

The governor closed the door behind them, but Maddy could still hear Emmey crying. When Emmey’s wailing had faded and Maddy was certain she wouldn’t return, she lay on her stomach and wept into her pillow, her sobs racking her frail body.

L
illian slowed Baxter to a walk and stopped next to Barnabus and Ticky. They eyed Garryglen’s west gate. “So you don’t like my idea of setting the first person who asks me to prove I’m a sister on fire?”

“The abbess made herself clear,” Barnabus said.

“The abbess said she didn’t want to hear about towns burning. She didn’t say anything about individual people. If I set the first one who asks on fire, the news will quickly spread. Nobody else will dare ask me.”

“You might be giving the townsfolk too much credit, Mistress.”

Lillian was sure she was. “Well then, I’ll set the first one who asks on fire, and then the next one, and then the one after that. I’ll be doing Garryglen a service by culling its idiots.”

Barnabus gave her a sidelong look. “Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re being serious or pulling my leg,” he said stiffly.

Right now she was delaying them from passing through the gate ahead. Her stomach hurt and her hands felt clammy. She’d cursed the length of the journey to Garryglen, but at the same time, had dreaded this day. Hope would either become certainty, or be banished. She wasn’t ready to learn which would prevail, but she never would be, so stalling was pointless. “What did Jonathan say the name of the inn was, where it all started?”

“The Traveller’s Rest.”

“Let’s stay clear of it, and the surrounding area.”

Barnabus nodded. “Not only will it be hostile, but that’s where we’ll find the tallest tales. I’ll ask these guards about the sister. If they don’t know, let’s try the nearest market that’s away from the inn. Once we know more, we’ll decide who to see from there.”

Lillian tightened her hold on the reins. “We’re seeing that magistrate no matter what we find out. He made a mockery of a Salbine Sister.” And if he’d hanged Maddy, he’d bloody-well pay!

“I agree, Mistress. But the more we know when we see him, the better. Shall we?”

In response, she nudged Baxter forward. Barnabus hailed the guards at the gate. Lillian remained silent while he exchanged pleasantries and obtained directions to the market and The Traveller’s Rest. “We heard you had a bit of trouble with a sister that came through here,” he said.

“No,” the guard standing to the left of the gate said.

“We’ve heard stories on the road about a woman who impersonated a sister.”

“Oh, that. Happened a while ago, that did.”

“Any chance we’ll run into her?”

“No. We took care of her.”

Lillian’s throat tightened.

“Sent her to prison. She won’t be getting out.”

Prison? Then she was alive!

The guard to the right shook his head. “No, we didn’t. We hung her.”

“No, we sent her to prison!”

“Don’t know where you got your information from, Cliff. I just know it’s wrong. We hung her.”

“Were either of you there when she was sentenced?” Barnabus asked.

They both shook their heads.

Lillian wanted to scream. So, Maddy might have hung, she might be in prison, or she might have sprouted wings and flown away! What a waste of time!

Barnabus thanked them. “Sounds like the nearest market is about fifteen minutes away,” he murmured as they trotted through the gate. The knot in Lillian’s stomach tightened. She focused on following Barnabus, wishing she’d learn of Maddy’s fate privately, not in the middle of a bustling market.

Too soon, she was securing Baxter and Ticky to a post and surveying the chaos of haphazardly arranged wooden stalls and gaily-coloured tents. Smoke from cooking fires tickled Lillian’s nose, and she quickly stepped out of the way as three children tore past her, oblivious to those around them. “Do you mind if I wait with the horses?” she said to Barnabus. “I’d rather hear what’s happened from you, not in the middle of that.” She jerked her chin toward the market where townsfolk thronged, examining textiles, haggling for better prices, and gossiping. “You’ll do all the talking, anyway.”