“You knew I was malformed.”
Lillian’s mouth twitched. “Malflowed. Trust me, you’re not malformed.” Her face clouded. “Why didn’t you talk to me? Why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t sense others drawing?”
Maddy looked at her in surprise. “How did you—”
“Your friend, er . . .”
“Rose?”
“Yes, Rose. She said you’d talked to her about it. Or rather, lied to her about it, from the sound of it. Why did you talk to her? Why didn’t you talk to me? I am your tutor.”
Was.
And Lillian had always been more than her tutor. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
Lillian frowned. “You wouldn’t have.” Her frown deepened when Maddy snorted. “I would have wondered why, investigated, maybe prevented what happened last night.”
“By telling me I’d never be a mage so our lessons were a waste of time?”
Lillian tipped her head from side to side. “Not in those words, but yes.”
“And you expect me to believe that you wouldn’t have been disappointed? That you aren’t disappointed?” Maddy swallowed. “In me?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You flick your pinkie and we’re suddenly in the middle of a blizzard.”
“I can’t help that I’m not malflowed, any more than you can help that you are!” Lillian shouted. She slowly inhaled, then blew out some air. “My estimation of someone doesn’t hinge on how well they draw the elements. Are you telling me yours does? Is that why I’m here?”
“No!”
“Then stop talking nonsense. If you want to berate yourself for being malflowed, fine, but leave me out of it. You’ve never been able to draw the elements, the whole time we’ve . . .” her face screwed up “. . . been together.”
“Yes, I have!”
“Barely.” Her voice softened. “And yet I’m drawn to you and enjoy your company immensely. You being malflowed . . . it doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does.” Maddy sighed. “Why would Salbine do this to me? Why would She turn Her back on me?”
“Why do you think She’s turned Her back on you?”
“Lillian, I can’t draw the elements. She’s denied me Her gifts.”
“The ability to draw the elements isn’t a measure of Salbine’s favour.”
“Of course it is! What’s the point of being a Salbine Sister if you can’t draw the elements? What am I supposed to do? The abbess said we’ll discuss what I can contribute, but what’s the point?”
Lillian’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “The point is that you are marked by Salbine and She called you here.”
“To make a mockery of me!”
“Maddy, you’ve been a contributing member of this community for three years without drawing the elements. I can’t do what you do. I don’t help the adepts with the afflicted. I don’t go to the market and mix with the people. I don’t offer them comfort and listen to their concerns.”
“Anybody can do that!” Maddy snapped, annoyed by Lillian’s patronizing attitude. “You don’t need to be a sister to do that.”
“Look at your beautiful embroidery.”
“Oh, please!”
“What about those marked by Salbine who don’t join the Order? Are you saying that Salbine doesn’t care about them?”
Maddy sat up and glared at Lillian. “They weren’t called, and maybe I wasn’t either. Because there’s no difference between me and them. They’ll never draw the elements, and neither will I. So what am I doing here?”
Lillian sat up. She brushed Maddy’s hair out of her eyes and gazed at her. “You were called here to serve Salbine. Nothing’s changed, Maddy. You’ll see that in time.”
No, everything had changed. Everything. She couldn’t draw the elements. Lillian could blather on all she wanted about her other talents, but they didn’t matter. Salbine Sisters drew the elements. Salbine Sisters protected the people by using the elements. What would she do during a conflict, while the mages manipulated the elements to repel hostile forces? Make everyone’s tea?
She’d left everything behind and come to the monastery because she’d believed that Salbine had called her. She’d thrown herself into monastery life with the expectation that she’d eventually serve Salbine as a competent mage. Every other sister could draw the elements, so why couldn’t she? Had she offended Salbine, or deluded herself? What did her life mean now? Yesterday morning her life had brimmed with purpose; now it felt hollow. She no longer understood her place in the world. Perhaps she never had.
M
addy slowed as she approached the dining hall in the Community Tower and the chatter inside reached her ears. She’d spent the better part of the last four days hiding in her chambers, venturing out only to empty her chamber pot, fetch water, and nip to the kitchen to see what the cooks could spare. Lillian had managed to coax her out for an afternoon walk the day before last and had visited most evenings, and several others had dropped in, Rose and the abbess among them; otherwise Maddy had kept to herself.
Today she was to meet with the abbess in her study, so she’d decided it was time to emerge from her sanctuary and face everyone. But now that she was here . . .
Footsteps behind her heralded Rose’s arrival; she squeezed Maddy’s arm and said cheerfully, “Glad to see you didn’t back out.”
“And I’m glad you’re here,” Maddy said, bolstered by Rose’s presence. She talked a little too much as they stood in line for their porridge, and fought the urge to cling to Rose when they reached their usual table. Abigail and Nora looked up from their bowls. Maddy searched their faces for pity, but found only curiosity.
Nora’s mouth turned up at the corners. “We’ve missed you at embroidery.” She moved over slightly so Grace could squeeze onto the bench. “Sister Gail threatened to work on your panel, but I managed to hold her off.”
“Thank you,” Maddy said as she and Rose sat down across from them. She lifted the pitcher from the middle of the table and filled a mug with milk. “I would have spent the entire next session pulling out her stitches.”
“So you’ll be there tomorrow?” Nora asked.
Maddy nodded. Someone sat down on her right. She turned to look, then quickly faced forward in dismay. Gwendolyn.
“And I guess you’ll be starting on the abbess’s cassock soon, won’t you?” Rose said brightly.
“I guess so,” Maddy mumbled, embarrassed. Nobody cared about her embroidery; it wasn’t as important as their training with the elements.
“It’s good to know you’ll have plenty to keep yourself busy while we’re all in the training rooms,” Gwendolyn said. Those across from Maddy stared at their porridge. “In fact, I think we all have lessons this afternoon,” Gwendolyn continued, her voice rising. “What will you be doing? Mucking out the stables? Helping the cooks peel potatoes? Oh, but your lessons were always in the evenings, weren’t they.” She snickered. “Your ‘lessons’—right. Now I understand why you’ve latched onto the mistress. One way to make yourself useful, I suppose.”
Maddy shot up as those around her gasped. She yanked Gwendolyn’s spoon from her porridge bowl, picked up the bowl, and tipped it over Gwendolyn’s head.
Gwendolyn’s eyes bulged. “You bitch!” she screeched, leaping to her feet, the bowl balanced on her head and porridge running down her face. The spoon in Maddy’s hand burst into flame. She yelped and dropped it to the table. Abigail quickly doused the fire with milk.
Everyone else was on their feet. “You’re not supposed to draw outside the training room,” Grace hissed.
“What is going on?” a voice cracked out. Mistress Phyllis bustled forward and surveyed the mess in horror. “Who drew fire?” she asked as others in the dining hall crowded around.
The initiates glanced uncertainly at each other. “You can eliminate Sister Maddy,” Gwendolyn said with a sneer.
Mistress Phyllis’s mouth tightened. “Since nobody wants to own up, I’ll take a wild guess and assume it was the one with the bowl on her head.” Everyone except Gwendolyn burst into laughter. “Clean up this mess, Sister Gwendolyn. I shall have a word with your tutor about your inappropriate use of the elements. And take that blasted bowl off your head!”
Gwendolyn lifted the bowl as Mistress Phyllis turned to leave, revealing bits of porridge pasted into her hair. “What about Maddy? She dumped my porridge over me!”
An exasperated sigh escaped Mistress Phyllis’s lips. “I don’t want to see you in the chapel looking like that. Sister Maddy, fetch water and heat it for Sister Gwendolyn. She’ll be bathing before morning prayers.”
“Fill one of the tubs in our tower. And be quick about it!” Gwendolyn snapped when Mistress Phyllis was out of earshot. “I want my water waiting for me when I get there!” As those who’d rushed over to see the show trickled away, she plucked at the oatmeal on her robe, groaning, “Oh, look at this mess.”
“The bowl suited you,” Rose murmured when Gwendolyn passed her, presumably on her way to get a rag.
“You’re as pathetic as your crippled friend,” Gwendolyn retorted without breaking stride.
Crippled. Was that how everyone saw her? “I’d better start on the water.” Maddy downed her milk and picked up her bowl.
Rose touched Maddy’s arm. “Finish your breakfast first. Don’t rush yourself for Gwendolyn.”
No. She’d not only lost her temper, but her appetite too. Plus she wanted to see her squirrels. They were capable of taking care of themselves and probably hadn’t missed her, but she’d missed them. “I’m not.”
“See you at morning prayers?”
Maddy nodded, though she’d prefer to skip them. Her presence might offend Salbine. Uninvited guests were always an intrusion.
*****
Maddy murmured her thanks as she accepted a cup of tea from the abbess. She took a tentative sip. Lemon. Not her favourite, but she hadn’t wanted to refuse it.
Abbess Sophia blew on her tea. “It was nice to see you in the chapel this morning.”
It had been horrible. The sun filtering through the stained glass, the sculpture of Lina in the vestibule, the sisters’ voices rising to Salbine, the tapestry illustrating the founding of the Merrin monastery—everything that normally exhilarated and humbled had left her cold. And when it had come time to pray . . . she’d pressed her palms together, bowed her head, and quietly despaired.
“I heard about what happened in the dining hall, but I don’t know why it happened.” The abbess eyed Maddy over the rim of her cup.
“I’m sorry.” With the heat of the moment long past, her behaviour that morning disappointed and shamed her. “Sister Gwendolyn started going on about how everyone would be busy training except me.”
“And that bothered you enough to dump porridge over her head?”
“It wasn’t just that. She said something about me . . . and Mistress Lillian. That’s when I dumped the porridge over her head.”
“I see.” The abbess set her cup on its saucer. “What did she say?”
Suddenly grateful for the tea she held, Maddy sipped it to give herself time to think. “She implied that my interest in the mistress isn’t genuine, that I spend time with her for other reasons.” Specifically, that she lay with Lillian for other reasons.
“Is that true?”
“No!” Maddy exclaimed, offended that the abbess had to ask. Lillian was the one bright spot in her life, the only light in the oppressive gloom that had hung over her since she’d learned of her condition. Their relationship was as much a surprise to her as it seemed to be to everyone else. A wonderful surprise, one she’d thank Salbine for every day—if Salbine cared. “I spend time with the mistress because I like her.” That felt inadequate; she liked Rose, and Thomas. “I care about her.” In a different way than she did for Rose, but that explanation would have to do.
“Since Lillian is a mistress and you’re an initiate, some sisters are bound to draw the wrong conclusions,” the abbess said. “You’ll have to learn to brush them off.”
Or some sisters, like Gwendolyn, were just cruel and ignorant. “I know, and I have. I guess it got to me this time because . . .” She swallowed. “The other things she said, about what I’ll do while they’re all training. Well, what
am
I supposed to do?”
The abbess smiled. “That’s why we’re here. To talk about potential areas of study.”
“But should I even be here?” Her teacup rattled against its saucer. She looked around for somewhere to set her tea, then carefully lowered her cup and saucer onto the small round table next to her chair that seemed to be there for that very purpose.
“What do you mean?” the abbess asked, frowning.
“Here, at the monastery.”
“We’ve talked about this already, but perhaps you don’t remember. It was just after you came around. You’re marked by Salbine and you’re serving Her. That’s all we require.”
“But how am I different from a cook or a stable hand? Why isn’t Dora a sister, or Penelope?”
The abbess folded her hands on her desk. “By serving us, they serve Salbine, but they’re not marked by Salbine. Only those marked by Salbine can be sisters. And only those who answer Her call become sisters. You answered Her call, Maddy. You left your family and your village to come to us.”
But had Salbine’s call been an excuse to escape farm life and a relationship that had become routine? She hadn’t thought so. Her decision to leave Joanna had been heart-wrenching, and she’d always enjoyed her chores around the farm. She would have happily stayed, if not for Salbine’s call, the pull she’d felt ever since she’d discovered she was marked. Had it all been a delusion? Every other sister had her decision to answer the call affirmed when she learned to draw the elements. Every other sister could say with certainty that she belonged, that Salbine wanted her service. “I can’t draw the elements, Abbess. If Salbine called me, why would She deny me Her gifts? Why would She set me apart?”
Why would She cripple me?
“I don’t know. Perhaps She has something else in mind for you and doesn’t want you distracted. Perhaps drawing the elements could be dangerous to you in some way and She’s protecting you. Or perhaps She’s simply not all that concerned with who can draw the elements and who can’t.”
Or perhaps only those She’d called could draw the elements. Often the most obvious explanation was the truth.