instead ask the question that’s been haunting me ever since I stepped into this room. It may just be enough to get this girl to speak. “I know you, don’t I? I’ve seen you before—that night on Murano, at the glassworks. That was you, wasn’t it?”
Something inside the girl seems to break. Her knees buckle, and she collapses back onto the bed. I rush to stand over her. Her breathing is shallow, and when she speaks it’s in French.
“Some water?” she asks in a cracked voice. “Please?”
“Of course.”
I step out into the corridor, to the table that carries a jug of water and a pile of wooden tumblers. I pour water into one, and take it back to the girl’s room.
“Here,” I say, holding the glass out as I duck my head beneath the doorway. But my word echoes back at me from the empty room. I rush to the open shutters, but the girl is already at ground level ten feet below, limping along the street. “Come back!” I shout.
She doesn’t even turn around.
26
I race out of the cell and down the walkway, past two panicked-looking nuns in conversation. Heaving open the main door to the convent, I spill out into the street, then follow the perimeter wall to where I guess the cell’s window looks out. Wisteria clings to the wall here, sturdy enough for a slight woman to climb down. I reach the corner where I last saw her and look up and down a street thick with Venetians going about their business.
“Have you seen a girl with dark skin, about this tall?” I ask a passing man.
He sends me a lascivious smile. “I see many girls,” he jokes. “I can see you too, if you like.”
I turn my back on him, walking a few more paces. But it’s no good. The roads and alleys are labyrinthine here, and she could have taken any of them. I turn and march back into the convent. What a fool I’ve been! I lied in order to meet this girl, and now she has fled. I’ve scared her away, and when news gets back to Allegreza … I dread to think.
“Put a message out!” I say as I enter the Abbess’s rooms. “Our bird has flown.” The Abbess’s glance darts towards me from the pages of her Bible.
“I don’t take orders from you,” she says.
“This isn’t about rank,” I snap. “You are one of us. Help, or suffer the consequences. A missionary post in the Far East, perhaps? A woman of your experience would surely be able to work wonders out there.” I hate myself for the satisfaction I feel in seeing that my bluff has worked—a flicker of horror passes over the Abbess’s features.
“Of course I’ll help,” she says, lowering her voice.
My muscles relax. “Tell all the convents in Venice. If that girl turns up, I want to hear about it. Bring a message to me specifically. The convents are not to give her sanctuary. Understood?”
The Abbess bows her head. “Happy now?”
“This isn’t personal.”
“Of course it isn’t.” Her face twists in a smile full of bitterness. “It never was.”
As I leave the convent, I hear a scuffle behind me and then I feel a hand tugging at the sleeve of my dress. It’s Annalena.
“Weren’t you going to say goodbye?” she asks.
I pull her to me in an embrace. I had again forgotten my old friend. I kiss her eyes and brush a hand down a cheek. My insides twist with guilt. I have been dancing, sword-fighting, dressing in fine robes. And all the time, my lay sister has been locked inside these four walls. I should have thought about her before now.
She walks me to the main doors and kisses my hands. “It has been good to see you again,” she tells me.
“And you will see more of me,” I reassure her, though I wonder if I am deceiving us both.
Annalena smiles sadly. “We’ll see.”
It hasn’t been a happy visit, and all the sugared almonds in the world won’t make up for the wretchedness of my friend’s fate.
I head straight back to Allegreza’s apartments. I must be the first to tell her, and I can feel my heart palpitating as though it wants to jump out of my chest. I can hardly think.
So there were two girls that night on Murano. Of course Aysim wouldn’t travel alone. This stray must be her servant, or her friend. She must have answers.
At Allegreza’s house, the old servant lets me in again,