Gregory Maguire_Wicked Years_02 Read Online Free PDF Page B

after lunch, she knew: all these stairs. A certain penance regarding the joints. But she exerted herself, and Candle lent a willing arm without being asked, which was a good sign that the girl wasn’t hopelessly slow.
    The sun was high enough overhead by now that the room had grown warmer and begun to sink into noon shadow. The young man lay as he had lain, twitchless, blanketed with an unnatural calm. Sister Apothecaire and Sister Doctor had brought their small chores close, so they could be nearby while they worked—Sister Apothecaire, the grinding of herbs in a mortar, and Sister Doctor the annotating of symptoms in a ledger. Sister Doctor sat on one side of the bed, Sister Apothecaire on the other.
    “You know this novice?” said the Superior Maunt.
    Her colleagues neither admitted familiarity, nor dissented.
    “She’s a garden girl with an instrument called a domingon. I have heard of these but never see one. Apparently Candle has a small talent at music. Perhaps in the long hours on watch over Liir, she will develop it. Candle, meet Sister Doctor and Sister Apothecaire. You will have seen them at table or in chapel if not elsewhere.”
    It was not the professional maunts’ obligation to bow, but when Candle did not bow either, Sister Apothecaire, out of social anxiety, gave a lurching sort of bob that might have meant any number of things.
    To the older women the Superior Maunt said, “There are matters more pressing for you to attend to than the continual observation of our new guest. I have a different assignment for you.”
    “Mother Maunt!” replied Sister Doctor. “Far be it from me to question your discernment. But I must remind you, in loyal obeisance of course, that while you govern the spirit of this House, I supervise the health of the individual souls within it.”
    “As to such treatments that may be required,” began Sister Apothecaire, but the Superior Maunt held up her hand.
    “I will hear no objection. Candle seems a simple soul, but she can sit here and watch the boy. She understands my instructions. If he so much as speaks, she will let someone know. She can practice her scales and perhaps grow in skill. If he is to die, let him be comforted by the peculiar drone of her instrument. This is my wish, and I have made my point.”
    She cupped her hands before her in an archaic, formal gesture that meant “be it thus” or, depending on the expression of the speaker, “enough out of you, you.”
    Nevertheless, Sister Apothecaire protested. “I’m well aware of this girl, she doesn’t know enough to come in out of the rain. You are making a terrible mistake—”
    “In this rare instance Sister Apothecaire is correct,” said Sister Doctor. “Should any wound suppurate, or a complication develop—”
    “I have other jobs for you two,” said the Superior Maunt. “Your insistence at brooking my will convinces me. You two are the ones for the next job at hand.”
    They paused in their flailing, affronted and curious.
    “I haven’t yet told you what I recently learned about the three missionary novices from the Emerald City who stopped here some days ago,” said the Superior Maunt. “Their small party was ambushed and they were all killed. Scraped, I’m afraid. Someone will need to find out who did the deed, and why.”
    She turned. “Finish your nostrums and reinforce your binding spells at once, enough to last till dinner anyway, and come with me. I shall nap briefly instead of taking a meal, and we will convene in my sectorium when the lunch prayers are concluded.”
    She was untrained in their profession. How did she know they’d used several illicit binding spells? This was why she was the Superior Maunt, they guessed. She didn’t know medicine but she knew women.
    There was nothing for them to do but obey. Walking slightly in advance of them, the Superior Maunt couldn’t help but smile faintly to herself. The medical women were good, solid folk. They were merely curious,