They exited the barracks and crossed the courtyard. The sudden movement caused Ember’s shoulders to seize up with pain, making her fully aware that the relief offered by the healer’s mixture was only a temporary reprieve from her injuries, but she gritted her teeth and managed to keep up with Sorcha’s determined pace.
“Abbot Crichton is Father Michael’s superior and he controls the coffers of Tearmunn.” Sorcha kept her voice low. “This keep—in the eyes of the Church—is actually an abbey, though obviously our order is nothing like those to which monks or nuns belong. Abbot Crichton is the head of this abbey, but he prefers the comforts of his own estate and doesn’t make his home here. Father Michael was appointed to reside with us and see to the day-to-day spiritual matters of Conatus. The abbot visits us on occasion to be sure we’re still submitting to the Church’s authority.”
“I don’t understand,” Ember whispered. “Abbot Crichton doesn’t trust Father Michael?”
Sorcha laughed coarsely. “Trust has nothing to do with it. Tearmunn is hidden in this glen because it keeps us out of the world of men—for the most part. We have a few ties with the village on the loch. The clan lords of this region visit us, but only rarely. Abbot Crichton is the only one who makes himself a nuisance.”
When they’d reached the manor, Sorcha paused. “You must take care with each word you speak to the abbot. He has as many nobles in his pocket as he can afford. His visits have nothing to do with ensuring we’re upholding our vows and everything to do with keeping his pockets full.”
“You bribe the abbot?” Ember gasped. She knew of priests who skimmed from a parish’s alms or those who kept mistresses or even had children, but having spoken with Father Michael, she found it difficult to imagine that anyone who knew the truth about Conatus would abuse that privilege.
Sorcha nodded. “We have no choice.” She took Ember’s chin in a light grasp, forcing the girl to look directly into her eyes.
“Listen to me, Ember.” She spoke softly but with intensity. “The abbot left Tearmunn the day you arrived. For him to have returned this quickly, asking to see you, means something has gone very wrong.”
“My father—” Ember began, remembering Lukasz’s words. He should know better. She shuddered. What had he done? Would he threaten Conatus to the point that they’d send her away?
“If he’s bribed the abbot, I don’t know what will happen,” Sorcha said. “But if he’s only complained and has yet to pay for Crichton’s assistance, we may salvage this wreck.”
Numbed by fear, Ember simply nodded.
“The battle you face now is as important as when you faced the striga.” Sorcha’s fingers brushed her cheek. “Courage.”
“What do I say?” Ember asked.
“The abbot holds a limited view of what a woman’s role in Conatus should be,” Sorcha told her. “He tolerates Eira and Cian’s presence on the Circle but wouldn’t be so accepting of our calling to the Guard.”
“He doesn’t know?” If Abbot Crichton wielded as much control over Conatus as Sorcha claimed, it was hard to believe he could be so ignorant of their practices.
“If he does, he’s elected to turn a blind eye to it,” Sorcha said. “And we should be thankful he cares more about maintaining his own manor than interfering with ours.”
“But if my father’s written to him . . .” Ember’s stomach twisted.
Sorcha nodded, confirming what Ember had left unsaid. “What you must do now is to convince the abbot that your father speaks lies to poison the Church against us. You cannot reveal anything about your calling, about the Guard.”
“What will Eira have told him?”
“Even with Eira and Cian on the Circle we still know it is a risk to bring women into the Guard,” Sorcha said. “Plans were already in place to counter a problem like this. There are many roles women can take in Conatus that could garner no objection from the abbot. Eira will have told him that you’re training to become a healer and a midwife.”
Ember gazed at Sorcha, letting her words sink in. She would have to lie to the abbot. And lie well. The only positive effect of how frightened she felt was that that her anxiety temporarily overpowered the pain of her wounds—a pain that had been mostly numbed by the salve but flared up if she moved too suddenly or without care.
Sorcha took her arm. “Keep breathing. It will do us no good if you faint before we reach the abbot.”
Ember hadn’t noticed she’d been holding her breath, but at Sorcha’s urging she gulped air, which made her head spin. She let Sorcha lead her into the manor, through the long hall gleaming with candlelight. The heavy layers of their skirts rustled along the stone floor, filling up the silence between them in place of conversation. Sorcha guided her past the great hall and the door beneath the stairs that had taken her into the cellar. They turned a corner, heading into another corridor, and for a moment Ember thought they were going to the chapel or Father Michael’s quarters. But Sorcha stopped in front of a door opposite the chapel entrance. The warrior woman bowed her head and closed her eyes. Ember wondered if Sorcha had paused to offer a brief prayer. Drawing a quick breath, Sorcha lifted her head and rapped on the door.
“Come!” a throaty male voice called.
Sorcha opened the door, and Ember stayed close to her as they entered the room. Her heart thudded against her ribs and she clasped her hands together to stop their shaking.
“There she is.” The man who was seated beside Eira in the small but finely appointed chamber rose. He boasted more girth than height, and Ember couldn’t guess his age. His slack lips complemented his jowls, which quivered with each step he took.
He stopped just short of Ember and Sorcha, extending his hand and revealing fingers covered in gold and gemstones.
“I was afraid the good folk of Tearmunn had misplaced you.”
Ember curtsied, taking the abbot’s hand—which was unpleasantly sticky—and kissed his signet ring. “Forgive me, Father Abbot. I didn’t want to cut my lessons short. I shouldn’t have made you wait.”
“Your lessons?” The abbot fixed his watery gray eyes upon her.
She closed her eyes for a moment. If she spun too intricate a web of lies, she would surely end up caught in them herself. How to get through this without giving up the truth?