The Salbine Sisters (26 page)

Maddy didn’t tire as quickly as she had and her colour had returned. Barring a setback, she’d be ready for the journey to Merrin in a few days’ time. But would she be willing to go? They couldn’t search forever. The child might have left Reedwick—or worse.

“Let’s try around Lila’s again tonight,” Maddy suggested, referring to the governor’s friend who cared for orphans. “We could have just missed her last time.”

“All right.” Lillian caught Barnabus’s eye; his thoughts probably matched hers. “And since we’ll do that, we should really go back now and have supper.”

Barnabus nodded. “I’ll pick up a couple of pies from the baker on the corner.”

“Oh yes, please!” Maddy said, her enthusiasm pleasing Lillian.

They returned to where they’d tied the horses and trotted them back to the stables near their temporary lodging. “Barnabus, I just want to nip to the market to see if I can trade for some herbs,” Lillian said.

“I can get what you need, Mistress.”

“No, I don’t want to delay supper. I’d prefer that you pick up the pies.”

“I don’t think I can face the market,” Maddy said as Barnabus filled the tiny purse Lillian pulled from her pocket.

“Come with me to the baker, Sister. It will only take a minute and then we’ll get you settled by the fire, “Barnabus said.

“Do that, Maddy. I won’t be long.” Especially since she hoped to avoid speaking to anyone but the merchant with the herbs she wanted. If her stomach wasn’t grumbling and Maddy didn’t look so worn out, she would have sent Barnabus.

The market was only around the corner. Lillian spotted a stall with dried herbs close to the road and made a beeline for it. “Fresh herbs,” the toothless merchant shouted, sweeping his arm above a selection of flowers and plants native to the area and recently harvested.

“Actually, I’m interested in dried herbs. Do you have any chamomile?” A nice hot cup of chamomile tea would hit the spot before bed. “And how about sage? Valerian root? Horsetail?”

“You’re in luck!” the merchant exclaimed, pointing above him. Wanting to complete her business with him as quickly as possible, Lillian didn’t bother to haggle and soon had several bunches dangling from her fingers.

“Excuse me,” a little voice said, just as Lillian reached the road. She glanced around, then down. The scruffiest, skinniest wisp of a child stared up at her. “I have to tell you something,” the girl said.

“You do, do you?” Lillian transferred two herb bunches from her right hand to her left and dug into her pocket for a loose coin. This couldn’t be the child Maddy was seeking; she was too small to be eight and had brown hair. “Here you go, child.” She forced the coin into the girl’s hand. Where was Barnabus when she needed him? “Now run along.”

“I don’t want your coin!” the child screeched, giving Lillian such a start that she almost dropped the herbs. “I have to tell you something.”

“What do you have to tell me?” Lillian said, wondering what the child was after. If a bunch of riffraff thought to rob her while she was distracted, they were in for quite the shock.

“It’s about Sister Maddy, of Merrin.”

Lillian’s breath caught in her throat. She studied the girl with renewed interest. Her hair
might
be blonde, under all the muck. Was this Emmey, or had the child overheard someone mention Maddy? They’d roamed the streets for over a week and identified themselves to numerous folk.

The girl pointed to Lillian’s hands. “I promised that if I saw someone with hands like yours, I’d tell what happened to her.”

“Very well. I’m listening.”

“I was in the prison, and the Miss, she was put in the same cell as me because they didn’t believe she was a sister, even though she was,” the girl said, twisting her ripped dress with one hand while holding the coin in the other.

“The Miss?”

The child rolled her eyes. “The sister! And then we were in the cell for a long time. And then one day we were having a bath, and Madison told us to get out. And when we left, there was smoke. And then a man was going to hit me. The Miss stopped him, but she burned her hand.”

Strange. When Maddy had recounted how she’d received the burns, she hadn’t mentioned saving the child. She’d said only that a prisoner had attacked her.

The girl lowered her head. Her shoulders shook. “And then . . . she got sick.” Lillian had to strain to hear her. “And she died. The Miss died.”

To Lillian’s astonishment, the child, who had to be Emmey, collapsed onto the stones and sobbed. “I wanted to be with her when she died, but she sent me away. I miss her.”

Unable to remain indifferent in the face of the child’s distress, Lillian bent over. “You must be Emmey.”

Emmey’s hands went to her mouth. “How do you know my name?” she asked, wide-eyed.

“Sister Maddy told me.”

“You saw her before she died?”

“She didn’t die. She’s looking for you.” Lillian thought the child’s eyes couldn’t open any wider, but eyes as wide as saucers stared back at her. “The Miss isn’t dead? Where is she, you have to take me to her!”

“Not far. Come on.” Lillian straightened and started to walk.

“I told her they’d let her go.” Emmey leaped to her feet and scampered after Lillian. “But she said she’d die. She wouldn’t lie to me.” She gasped. “Did they let her go because you came for her, and she decided she didn’t want to die in the prison, and so you brought her here and she’ll die soon?”

“No. She’s not going to die.” Lillian glanced at her right hand, wondering what kept bumping into it. Her jaw tightened. Emmey wanted to hold her hand. Lillian grasped one of her fingers, all she was willing to do.

“Are you from Merrin too, because your hands are the same as the Miss’s and it would make sense that you’d come for her, if you’re from Merrin.”

“Yes, I’m from Merrin,” Lillian said tersely, quickening her pace.

“Are you like the Miss, or can you, um . . . do elements?”

“I can draw the elements.” In fact, she could feel a fireball coming on right now.

“Because the Miss, she couldn’t, and that’s why they put her in the cell with me. They thought she was a liar. But she wasn’t.”

Mercifully, they’d reached the house. When Lillian stepped over the threshold, Maddy was sitting in front of the fire, her back to the door, and Barnabus was setting the table. He turned toward Lillian and raised his eyebrows.

“I’ve brought a guest,” Lillian announced.

Maddy looked over her shoulder. Her mouth dropped open and she shot to her feet. “Emmey!”

Emmey squealed and ran toward her, but then stopped dead.

Maddy frowned. “What’s the matter?”

“You look different.”

“Oh. You mean my arm.”

“Your clothes, Miss.”

“My robe? You’ve seen me in a robe before.”

“It was dirty. That one’s pretty,” Emmey said solemnly.

“Why, thank you.” Maddy crouched and held out her arms. “Come here.”

Emmey didn’t need further encouragement. She leaped into Maddy, making Lillian wince. “It’s so good to see you,” Maddy said, tightening her arms around Emmey.

Lillian didn’t know how Maddy could stand to hold the girl. Now that they were inside, she could smell Emmey all the way over at the door. And Maddy’s robe! It was probably filthy now.

Maddy sat back on her haunches and smiled at Emmey. “We’ve been looking for you. Where did you go? Why didn’t you stay with Lila?”

“Because they wanted me to nick.”

“Who?”

“The others.”

“The other children?”

Emmey nodded. “I didn’t want to do it, and I knew you wouldn’t want me to do it, Miss, so I ran away and didn’t go back.”

“What have you been doing for food?”

“I find scraps, Miss. And sometimes I get a handout. And I found a place to sleep, in an old shed, but then I heard about the sisters. They said one of them was Sister Maddy, but I didn’t believe them, because you were dead, except now you aren’t. But I remembered what you told me, Miss. It took me a long time to find a sister, but I did, and I told her about you.”

“You told Lillian.” Maddy looked over Emmey’s shoulder and beckoned to Lillian. “Lillian, come over here so I can properly introduce you.”

Lillian resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She handed the herbs to Barnabus on her way to Maddy’s side.

Maddy winked at her. “Lillian, this is Emmey. Emmey, Lillian.”

Emmey stared at her. “So that’s Lillian?” She looked at Maddy. “You told me she was old.”

Lillian’s nostrils flared.

“Old
er
,” Maddy said firmly. “I definitely said older.”

Maddy had told this . . . scruffy child about her? What else had she said?

“And that’s Barnabus,” Maddy said, pointing to him.

Barnabus inclined his head. “Most pleased to meet you, Emmey.”

Emmey stuck her thumb in her mouth and shyly said hello, then turned her attention back to Maddy. “What’s wrong with your arm, Miss? How come your sleeve is sewed up?”

“Well, you remember how badly my hand was burned?”

Emmey’s head bobbed. “You said you’d die.”

“And I would have, if Lillian and Barnabus hadn’t arrived when they did. But the only way to save me was to get rid of what was hurting me.”

“You mean you don’t got your hand no more?”

“No, I don’t, and part of my arm is gone, too.”

“Can I feel it?”

In response, Maddy held out her right arm. A coin clanged to the floor when Emmey reached out and opened her fist. She bent down, picked it up, and held it in front of her eyes. “Can I keep this?”

Maddy peered at it. “Where did you get it?”

Emmey pointed to Lillian.

“Well, Lillian, can she keep it?” Maddy asked.

“I suppose so,” Lillian muttered, taking a few steps toward the table in the hope that the aroma of the pies would overpower the smell coming from the other direction. She winced when Emmey shrieked and jumped up and down. Forget the chamomile tea; her head would soon be in need of lime flower.

“Do you want me to hang onto it for you?” Maddy asked.

Emmey dropped the coin into Maddy’s left hand. “Ooh,” she breathed, fingering the sleeve of Maddy’s robe. “It’s so smooth.”

“It’s silk.”

“So smooth,” Emmey whispered again. “Does it hurt?” she asked, moving her hand up to Maddy’s stump and rubbing it through the sleeve.

“No, it doesn’t.” Maddy held up her left hand. “But now I have to learn to do with this hand what I used to do with that hand. Perhaps we can practice our letters together!”

“Your letters? Can she even write?” Lillian asked.

“She can read—can’t you, Emmey.”

Emmey’s answering nod surprised Lillian.

Barnabus cleared his throat. “Begging your pardon, Sister, but the pies are cooling.”

“Sorry.” When Maddy pushed herself up and almost lost her balance, Lillian grasped her shoulders to steady her. “Thank you,” Maddy murmured. She patted Emmey’s head. “I bet you’re hungry.”

“Yes!”

“So am I, but I think we’d better give you a quick bath before we eat.”

Lillian silently approved, glad to see that Maddy hadn’t completely taken leave of her senses the moment she’d seen the girl.

“Lillian, why don’t you and Barnabus eat while I help Emmey bathe? We can warm one of the pies again.”

“You’ll need help filling the tub,” Barnabus said.

“I have a helper.” Maddy ruffled Emmey’s hair. “And after supper, we’ll go to the market and see about some clothes. I’d make some for you, but I can’t sew. Not anymore.”

“I can help you, Miss.”

“So can I,” Lillian said, determined not to be outdone. “I can thread the needle for you and hold the cloth.”

“That would hardly be me doing it,” Maddy said. “But I appreciate the offers. Now, there’s a tub in the kitchen and a well out back. We have work to do.”

“Will you do my hair, Miss, and my back?”

“I certainly will.”

Emmey clapped her hands. “And this time we won’t have to go back to a cell.”

“No, we won’t.” Maddy took Emmey’s hand and led her into the kitchen.

Feeling left out, Lillian sat at the table and poured herself a glass of cider. As she ate her pie, bursts of chatter from the kitchen announced the arrival and heating of each bucket of water. The splashing, giggling, and incessant prattling started when she was enjoying her after-supper cider. She rubbed her temples. Barnabus refilled his glass, something he rarely did. He sipped the cider and pressed his lips together.

“How hard can we push the horses?” she asked wearily, not looking forward to weeks of travel with a child whose mouth was perpetually in motion.

Barnabus shook his head. “Pushing them too hard will only slow us down in the end.”

“Then it will be a long ride to Pinewood.”

“Pinewood?”

“That’s where the child lives.” When he still looked confused, she realized he hadn’t been privy to Maddy’s desire to see Emmey safely in her ma’s arms. “Maddy wants to take the child home.”

His face darkened and he set his glass down. “The abbess was clear. We’re to return to Merrin. You haven’t agreed to her plan?”

So far, she’d avoided committing herself. “No, I haven’t.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to help the child home . . .”

Since Lillian shared his feelings on the matter, she silently completed his position for him.
I just don’t want to take her myself.
“I agreed to hire someone to escort the child, had Maddy not survived.”

Barnabus pounced on that possibility. “We’ll easily find someone in Garryglen.”

“I’m not sure that will satisfy her. I don’t think she’ll trust anyone else to do it, now that she can.”

“We’ll spend the coin and hire a group of men from one of the reputable guilds,” Barnabus suggested. “The guild wouldn’t dare risk the wrath of the sisters, nor would it want its reputation tarnished. But to ease the sister’s mind, we’ll insist that the local tax collector must send us a message vouching for the girl’s safe return. We’ll include it in the contract.”

Lillian picked up her glass. “That sounds reasonable.” A loud shriek from the kitchen made her jump. Cider spilled onto her sleeve and the tablecloth. Groaning, she dabbed up the mess with a napkin. “I’ll broach the subject with Maddy again,” she said to Barnabus, then drained her glass and reached for the cider jug.