Page 26
“That is not what the medicus said.”
“He’s incompetent.”
A chair scraped over the stone floor. “I am not going to worry about something just because your servingman thinks he is more knowledgeable than my medicus.”
“He is more knowledgeable than your medicus. We’ve been all over the continent. Your medicus has never left this city. He’s just an apothecary in a white robe.”
“I don’t have any more time to talk about this, Sebastianus. I have four more to get settled over the next few days. In fact, Anna is on her way down right now.”
“You’re a hard woman, Marta. Not a shred of mercy. She should be given a day, at least, considering.”
“What good would it do her? The thing she needs most is a high bid from someone who might want a longer-term arrangement. Mercy? By the Goddess, when has anyone ever afforded a drop of mercy to me? The tax collector will be on my doorstep before the month is out, asking twice what I paid last year, thanks to your uncle’s endless war. His social reforms are coming for us too, I’m sure of it. Corlivo is an island in a sea of change. Besides, you’re one to talk; you’re the least sentimental man I have ever known.”
“Don’t lay my uncle’s war, or the rest of his agenda, at my feet. He doesn’t listen to me any longer.”
I heard tapping on stone. Sebastianus was thumping toward the hallway. I stepped back quickly and focused on my sleeve, as though something with the embroidery had caught my attention.
The door creaked. His footsteps approached and then stopped.
“Hello, Anna,” he said.
I feigned surprise and looked up. “Oh, good afternoon.” I thought suddenly of Geographica. “I’m afraid I don’t have the book with me. I didn’t expect to see you.”
A strange expression crossed his face, a mix of curiosity and, I thought, sadness. “Never mind about that. It’s not important.”
“I thought you wanted to see it.”
He rubbed his chin. The diamonds in his earlobes glinted in the torchlight. “Never mind about it. Take care, Anna.”
He continued down the corridor, his uneven gait distinct on the stone floor.
THE MATRON SAT at her tidy table. Stacks of parchment stood in even rows on either side of her elbows. The stub of a candle flickered. Behind her coiffed head, rain beat on the windows. Her monocle dangled from its cord.
“Sit down, please.”
I perched on the edge of the chair, bracing myself for what she had to say.
“I have some difficult news, Anna. Kyra passed away last night after several days of illness. The medicus confirmed that it was an infection of the blood.”
It was as though the wind and fog outside the window had rushed in and enveloped me. “What?”
The matron repeated the news, but the words hardly penetrated the dense atmosphere that suddenly wrapped me like a cerement. After a moment a thought broke through. “It was powder from a red flower. Not an infection of the blood.”
“Who told you that?”
“I heard someone discussing it while I was visiting her in the infirmary the other day.”
She folded her hands. “I’m afraid that is not correct. Sadly, it was a blood infection.”
I did not have the energy to argue. What did it matter? I thought of the small rib cage rising and falling alone in the infirmary. Grief seared through me. “I tried to visit her, but the door was locked. Can I see her now, before—before she’s taken away? She was like a sister to me.” My voice broke.
The matron scratched the side of her nose with a delicate finger. “Her remains have already been sent to the crematory. She’s in the Goddess’s care now.”
There was a rushing sound in my ears.
“But things here have to go on,” she continued.
Her words drifted in, filtered, dulled.
