“This place makes my flesh creep,” Bittor said.
Sister Roslyn returned with the nurse who had taken an interest in them earlier. The one with the chamber pot. Her name was Sister Ivette. She could not have been more than a few years older than Cas. There was no sign of the briskness evident in her superior. She was shy, soft-spoken, the sort of kindly nurse one would wish to have if one had to be in a hospital.
Lena questioned her. She described Lady Mari as she would have looked a year ago, not as Cas had seen her. A pretty young woman, richly dressed, speaking with a Brisan accent. Did Sister Ivette recall anyone who fit her description?
“It was a terrible time.” Sister Ivette’s voice faltered. Her eyes were cast down; her lips trembled. “I’m very sorry. I don’t remember her.”
“She would have been brought in by Lord Ventillas,” Lena said. “Commander of the king’s army. A hard man to forget once you’ve seen him.”
“I did not see him.”
“Truly?” Lena said pleasantly. “Then how do you explain this?” A leather cord, barely visible, hung from Sister Ivette’s neck. Lena reached out and tugged sharply. A pendant came into view. No, not a pendant. A gold coin with a hole punched through for the cord.
“Lady Analena!” Sister Roslyn objected. “You have no right to—”
Cas was at the end of his patience. “That coin was to be a wedding gift for the king. It was one of many. They were left with Lady Mari, sewn into the lining of her dress. How do you come to have one, Sister Ivette?”
Sister Roslyn, bewildered, fell silent. The younger nurse had slapped a hand over the coin and stumbled from Lena’s reach.
Lena stepped toward her, her voice sharpening. “Queen Jehan left her friend here. What happened to her?”
Sister Ivette looked behind her, but Bittor had shifted to the alcove’s opening, blocking her path. When she turned back, an ugly look twisted her face. “She’s no queen of mine. Her lady can rot with all the rest of them for all I care. Brisan filth.”
“Sister Ivette!” Sister Roslyn exclaimed, shocked.
Cas said, “We’ll be sure King Rayan knows how you feel about his queen. The lady asked you a question. Answer it now.”
At the mention of the king, Sister Roslyn paled. Royal disfavor would mean terrible things for the hospital. She gripped Sister Ivette’s elbow hard enough to make her flinch.
Sister Ivette yanked her arm free and rubbed it. “They came during a rainstorm. A soldier brought her.” A sullen glance in Cas’ direction. “He looked like you.”
“My brother,” Cas said for Sister Roslyn’s benefit.
“He asked that I send him word. If she died, if she didn’t, and he left payment for her care. I didn’t know about the coins in her dress,” Sister Ivette added resentfully. Sister Roslyn listened, her expression furious.
So did Lena. “And did you? Care for her?”
“There was nothing to be done. She was like all the others.” Sister Ivette looked away. Cas thought he saw the briefest glimpse of shame. “One night, the doctor came by. He took her.”
Sister Roslyn’s lips parted. No sound emerged.
Cas tried to make sense of it all. “The doctor who used to work here?”
Sister Roslyn answered reluctantly. “Before I came to Gregoria, a doctor named Saulo ran this hospital. Until it was discovered he . . . did things to his patients.”
Uneasy, Bittor said, “What sorts of things?”
“Experiments. Tests. Surgery,” Sister Roslyn said. “Tests that had nothing to do with their ailments. One of the sisters reported him, but he must have been warned”—she sent an accusing look toward Sister Ivette—“because he vanished before the guards could arrive. I was sent to replace him.”
Cas turned to Sister Ivette. “What do you mean he took her? Did he pay you?” Her silence was her answer. Incredulous, he said, “You sold the queen’s closest friend to a lunatic doctor?”
“She was nearly dead,” Sister Ivette protested.
“Which means she was still alive,” Lena said, outraged. “When did he give you that coin?”
Sister Ivette shoved the pendant out of sight. “He came sometimes, very late. He took others. The nurses who worked those hours . . . he was good to us.” She did not look at Sister Roslyn, who regarded her with revulsion. “That night, he paid me with this.”
Others, Cas thought. Then, “When did you last see him?”
“Several months ago. He’s never stayed away so long.”
“Where does he take them? Where does he live? Do you know?”
Finally, Sister Ivette met his eyes. The tears began to fall. “He has a house in the hills. Not far from here.”
26
Sister Roslyn rode an ancient nag that wheezed and shuffled, slowing their pace considerably. She had insisted on accompanying them. The disgraced Sister Ivette shared a horse with Bittor. She wept the entire way. For his part, Bittor endured the pointed wimple that batted unceasingly against his face, poking at his nose and obscuring his vision. Under any other circumstance, the sight would have provoked Lena to laughter. But there was no sign of her good nature here. She rode beside Cas, every inch of her radiating anger.
They left Gregoria behind and traveled into the hills. Eventually, Sister Ivette pointed to a crumbling stone wall covered in vines. When Cas brushed them aside, he discovered an opening where a gate must have once stood. Beyond the wall was a muddy path, and at the end of the path was a cottage. White stone, a thatched roof. One look and Cas knew they were too late. There was no smoke from the chimney, though the day was a cool one. The front door stood wide open. As they rode closer, a pair of genets raced out of the cottage and up a tree, pointed muzzles and spotted coats disappearing into the leaves.
Cas asked Sister Ivette, “Does anyone else live here?”
“No,” she mumbled.
“Family? Servants?”
“No one.”
They tied their horses to a fence post. Cas reached for his mace, Bittor his sword, and with their weapons drawn, they entered the cottage, Lena at their heels. Even with the door open, the smell was hard to bear. “Ugh!” Lena slapped a hand over her mouth and nose. It was too much for Bittor. The sisters had crept in last. He barreled by them before emptying the contents of his stomach all over the front stoop.
A man lay dead on the floor. Eyes filmed over. Staring up at the beams. A leather apron covered his tunic and trousers. Whoever had stabbed him through the leather had left the dagger behind, protruding from his chest. Beside him was a table. What would have looked to Cas like any other supper table, except for the chains dangling from the corners. Sister Roslyn crossed herself.
Cas said to Sister Ivette, “Is this him?”
“Yes,” Sister Ivette answered, eyes riveted on the doctor. The sight of him had stopped her tears.