The Salbine Sisters (6 page)

“Now, now, none of that,” Lillian said, her cheeks reddening. “Not until you’ve held fire.” She gestured at the unlit candle standing in a tall candlestick in the middle of the room. “Let’s start with that, to warm up. No pun intended.”

Maddy stared at the candle, then closed her eyes and reached within herself for Salbine’s fire. Yes, she could feel it, now she just had to draw it. Yes, yes! It was flowing through— Sharp pain, in her chest. Her eyes snapped open; her stomach roiled.

“Maddy?” Lillian peered anxiously at her.

She took a deep breath. “I’m fine. Let me try again.” Determined not to let Lillian down, she squeezed her eyes shut, reached for the fire, gritted her teeth, pulled, pulled . . . yes, here it came; now to direct it to the candle, to the— Scorching pain ripped through her. She doubled over and her knees buckled. The fire burned, consuming her.

“Maddy? Maddy, what’s wrong? What’s wrong?”

Flames, everywhere! Searing heat, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. “I’m on fire!” She stared at her hands in horror as they withered within the engulfing flames. Skin and muscle melted away, leaving behind dead, skeletal hands. “No!” She flailed around, danced, screamed. The stench of burning flesh filled her nostrils.
Salbine, help me! Help me!
“I’m on fire! I’m on fire!” she sobbed. “Help me! Oh, Salbine, please help me!”

“Maddy, stop drawing! Maddy, stop.
Stop!
”

The world went black.

M
addy opened her eyes and blinked into the dim light. Something cool was pressed against her forehead. She slowly turned her head and recognized the robe hanging over the back of a chair. She was in her chambers, in her bed. Licking her lips, she reached up and touched the damp cloth lying above her eyes.

A shadow fell across her: Rose, hovering anxiously. “Maddy? Oh, thank Salbine, you’re awake!” Then she was gone. Footsteps, followed by the door creaking open. Murmuring voices. The door thumped shut.

Maddy tried to sit up, but the room spun. Uh-oh. “I’m going to be sick.” She grabbed the cloth from her forehead and held it over her mouth.

“Hang on!” Rose rushed over and lifted a bucket sitting near the bed.

Maddy hung her head over it just in time. Her throat burned. “I’m sorry,” she croaked, then wiped her mouth with the cloth and handed it to Rose. When she lifted her head, fire raged within.
I’m on fire! I’m on fire!
Maddy gasped and clawed at her face. Her skin . . . it felt smooth, cool. It wasn’t burned. She held her hands out in front of her, flipped them over and looked at her palms. “They’re whole. They weren’t burned,” she whispered.

Rose’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Maddy,” she moaned, her lips trembling.

Maddy looked at her. “I don’t understand. What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Rose avoided Maddy’s eyes. “I’ve only heard snatches here and there. The abbess should be here soon, a defender is fetching her from the chapel. Everyone’s there, praying.”

“Praying? For what?”

“For you!”

“For me,” Maddy breathed.

“Lie back down.” Rose pushed gently on Maddy’s shoulder. “You’re sweating.” She turned away and dipped another cloth into a bucket of water sitting on the table, next to the lamp.

Maddy lay still as Rose dabbed at her forehead; the slightest movement induced a wave of nausea. “Did Lillian bring me here?” she asked, suddenly wondering where Lillian was.

“Barnabus brought you.” Rose sank onto the chair beside the bed. “The mistress is probably in the chapel. I’d be in the chapel too, if I wasn’t here.” She rested her hand on Maddy’s shoulder. “But I wanted to be here,” she said softly, “so when I heard them say they needed someone to stay and tend to you, I said I’d do it.” She bit her lip. “You’ve had me so worried. They said you’d probably wake in two or three hours, but it’s gone past three.”

“Three in the morning?” Maddy exclaimed. Rose nodded.

Someone rapped at the door, then pushed it open. The abbess bustled in. Rose stood and bobbed a curtsey. Maddy started to push herself upright, but the abbess held out her hand. “No, it’s all right.” She gratefully sank back, swallowing bile.

“Would you give us a moment, Sister?” the abbess said to Rose.

“Of course.” Rose hung the cloth over the side of the bucket and turned to leave.

“Rose?” Maddy called. Rose looked over her shoulder. “Thank you.” The pity she glimpsed in Rose’s eyes frightened her.

Abbess Sophia sat in the chair Rose had previously occupied. She pushed her spectacles up her nose and studied Maddy. “How are you feeling?”

Maddy swallowed. “Confused. Nauseous. What’s wrong with—” She gagged. “Oh no, I have to—”

The abbess quickly lifted the bucket. “It’s all right, this will eventually pass,” she murmured, patting Maddy’s back. Maddy’s retching subsided and the abbess plucked a rag from the pile on the table and handed it to her, then dipped the cloth Rose had left into the water.

Maddy held onto the rag this time, embarrassed and mortified. “Do you know what’s wrong with me?”

“Yes.”

She closed her eyes as the abbess dabbed at her forehead. “Am I dying?” she whispered.

“No, you’re not dying. You’ll be all right.”

“Then what’s wrong with me?” she asked, opening her eyes. “What happened in the training room?”

The abbess wrung the cloth over the bucket before turning back to Maddy. She sighed. “You’re what we call malflowed. For reasons we don’t understand, the elements don’t flow through you as they should.” Her face softened. She gently touched Maddy’s cheek. “It means you can’t draw the elements.”

No. Salbine wouldn’t do this to her. “But I can! I’ve lit a candle.”

“With great difficulty, according to Lillian. And that’s not surprising. You see, you’d never know you’re malflowed unless you draw the elements. From what we’ve observed, when a malflowed sister first draws the elements, there’s no indication that she’s malflowed. Drawing the elements somehow provokes the condition, brings it to the surface. It becomes more difficult to draw, and then what’s drawn is distorted. Around the same time, the malflowed stops sensing when others draw.”

Oh, Salbine. Oh, no.
“Why would Salbine deny me Her gifts? Why?” She blinked back tears, but one escaped and rolled down her cheek. “Why would She turn Her back on me? I must have done something wrong, offended Her in some way.” Maddy couldn’t hold it in any longer. She covered her face with her hands and wept. Salbine had called her. Maddy had left everything behind to serve. Why this?

The abbess stroked Maddy’s hair. “We don’t understand why it happens, but we’re sure it’s not a form of punishment.”

It bloody-well felt like one! “I’ve drawn fire.” She peeked at the abbess through a gap between her hands. “Maybe if I worked at it hard enough—”

The abbess shook her head. “No. I know this is difficult for you, but you must accept it. If you try to draw and an element does flow, it would be dangerous for you, Maddy. You’ll experience a similar episode to what happened earlier. But I doubt you can still draw. In the few cases we know about, an episode like the one tonight always rendered the malflowed incapable of drawing. The elements are closed to you now.”

“You tested me! I passed the Test of Salbine. I am marked by Salbine.”

“When you undergo the test, you’re not the one drawing the elements,” the abbess reminded her. “And at that point, the elements would have flowed freely through you, undistorted.”

“I
am
marked!”

The abbess nodded. “Nobody doubts that,” she said evenly. “And nobody doubts that Salbine called you to the Order.”

Maddy did. How could she be a Salbine Sister when she couldn’t draw the elements? She was as useless as a smith who couldn’t shape metal or a potter who couldn’t mould clay. “When will I have to leave the monastery?” she asked, her voice tremulous.

“You don’t!” the abbess exclaimed. “Look at me. Give me your hands.”

She reluctantly lifted them from her face. The abbess grasped them. “You see the branches on their backs? We welcomed you into the Order, claimed you as ours, the moment you took your vows. You’re marked by Salbine and you want to serve—you are serving. That’s all we require. Your place is still here, with us. It always will be.”

But she couldn’t draw the elements. She’d be the perpetual initiate, the odd one out, the sister on the outside, looking in. “Maybe I shouldn’t feel this way, but it’ll be embarrassing when I’m twice the age of the other initiates.”

The abbess’s forehead creased and she squeezed Maddy’s hands. “You won’t be. Granted, a sister’s title usually relates in some way to her competence with the elements, but it doesn’t have to. I want you to take it easy for a few days. Then we’ll have a chat about how you can best serve within the Order. We’ll find something in which you can become the resident expert, perhaps even the Order’s expert.”

But she couldn’t draw the elements! Whatever else she studied wouldn’t feel as important; she’d always know its sole purpose was to make her feel useful. But what was the alternative? To return to her farm and village and tell everyone she’d been mistaken, that Salbine hadn’t called her after all? She’d been so sure. “What do other sisters like me study?”

Abbess Sophia took her time answering. “There aren’t any others. Not alive, anyway. You’ll have to go to the library to learn about others like yourself.”

Why, Salbine? Why?

“How’s your belly?”

Maddy lifted her head. The motion still made her gag. “Still queasy.” Her head still throbbed, too.

“Lillian’s brewed something to help. She didn’t want to pray with us, she said she’d rather do something practical.” The abbess looked amused, not annoyed. “I sent a defender for her when they told me you’d awakened. She’s probably waiting outside.”

Lillian. The most powerful mage alive. Her estimation of Maddy must have plummeted. “So she knows?”

“Yes, she knows.”

“What does she think about . . . my condition?”

The abbess leaned over and touched her lips to Maddy’s forehead. “I think that’s a question for Lillian,” she murmured. “I’ll drop in tomorrow to see how you are.”

She left before Maddy could reply. Maddy heard her speaking to someone outside her door, but couldn’t make out the words. The door thumped shut again. Lillian towered over her.

“I hope you don’t think this forward, but I’m staying with you tonight. I’ve brought a clean shift in case you throw up on me and I have to change.” Lillian indicated the shift folded over her arm with a glance, then lifted a jar filled with a dark yellowish liquid. “But if you drink this, you probably won’t.”

Maddy eyed the jar suspiciously. “What is it?”

“An extremely complex concoction I’ve spent hours slaving over, commonly referred to as ginger tea. It will help your head, too.”

Despite her headache, Maddy smiled.

“I’ll just warm it a bit.” Lillian tossed the shift onto the end of the bed and moved toward the fire. “Can you sit up?” she asked.

“Sitting up will be risky, though I’d be surprised if there’s anything left to come up.”

“There’s always something.” Lillian returned and reached for the bucket on the floor. “Let’s get it over with.”

Maddy slowly raised her head, waited until the room slowed down, then sat up. “I think I’m ok—” She twisted and retched over the bucket, one hand over her nose to block both the smell and the sight of the bucket’s contents.

“Done?” Lillian asked when Maddy straightened, groaning.

“I think so.”

“Good.” Lillian returned to the fire. A minute later she was back to settle on the side of Maddy’s bed. “Drink.”

The warm liquid soothed her throat. Maddy gave it a moment to settle, then lay back. Her head pounded. “I just want to close my eyes a minute,” she murmured, letting her eyelids sag.

When she opened them, the light had changed. Morning. Past eight, she guessed. Memories of the previous night came rushing back. She rubbed her forehead; her head felt fuzzy, but she didn’t need to reach for a bucket. She still ached, though—ached with sorrow at Salbine’s rejection.

Lillian stirred next to her. Lillian! She rolled over and shook her shoulder. “Lillian. Lillian!”

Lillian’s eyes flew open. “What?”

“You missed early morning prayers.”

“No, I told Sophia I wouldn’t be there today.” She rubbed her left eye. “I had to tell her, otherwise they would have rushed to my chambers to see if I’d expired. I’ll go to morning prayers with you, if you feel up to it.”

“I don’t know,” Maddy said. “The abbess said to take it easy for the next few days.” And what would be the point of going to morning prayers? What would she pray for? Guidance?
Salbine, I’m a sister who can’t draw the elements. What does my life mean now?
Salbine’s laughter would ring in her ears. Tears welled. She lay back and threw her arm across her forehead. How would she face everyone? Would they all look at her in pity, as Rose had?

The bed creaked as Lillian pushed up on one elbow to study Maddy’s face. “You gave me a terrible fright last night.”

“I must have looked a right arse, running around the training room, screaming and flailing about. But I thought I was on fire.” She felt for Lillian’s hand. “I could feel it, smell it—see it!” Her grip tightened.

“I wanted to help, but I didn’t know what to do. I’d never seen anything like it. All I could do was shout at you to stop drawing.” Lillian briefly closed her eyes. “And then you collapsed, just fell to the floor like a sack of oats.”

“Then what happened?”

“I couldn’t wake you,” Lillian said, breathing rapidly. “So I sent for the abbess. She arrived with several mistresses in tow. Fortunately Mistress Averill was with them. She remembered reading about a sister who’d sat motionless and in tears, convinced her body was encased in ice despite everyone’s efforts to dissuade her of the notion. Sophia sent her to fetch the tome. One tome led to another, and by the time Barnabus carried you in here, we understood what had happened.”