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."What happened to allowing me to proceed as I saw fit?" he asked."Your judgment is in question," said Pacheco."But I know the difference between when the opium speaks for her and abject terror."Latorre raised his eyebrows and leered."You know her so well, novice?"Gavriel turned and removed the sheepskin mantle."Look for yourself.She has scars on the soles of her feet.Someone deliberately tortured her."Pacheco stared at him.Ants crawling over his skin would have been more pleasant."You're tired, Gavriel," he said."You cannot possibly understand her fear.She was frightened, and this arrogant swine treated her like the lowest animal."Mendes sputtered again.His eyes bounced between Pacheco and Latorre, perhaps looking for someone to voice the indignation he could notBut Latorre only gaped at Ada's bared feet and calves."You removed her boots? Without a chaperone?"Gavriel yanked the mantle into place."She has a fever and was unable to remove them.What was I supposed to do?""Send for a maid or a nun," said Latorre."Like the one who held her down?" The sharp spike of his voice bounded around the room's low stone walls."She did so that I might perform bloodletting," said Mendes."This woman would be recovered by now had you not interfered.""You did not even inquire as to her illness," said Gavriel."Opium, plague, dropsy—the remedy is all the same to you."Mendes pointed with his flapping sleeve."This is intolerable.I want him disciplined!"Latorre nodded, turning his doughy face to Pacheco."I agree with Senor Mendes.This boy must be reprimanded"Gavriel clenched his fists."I'm no boy, you—""I'll not be told how to oversee my own novice." Never raising his voice to the others' distress, Pacheco's black eyes held each man enthralled."Do you understand my meaning?""I understand," said Latorre."But I also understand that my place as the archbishop's majordomo entitles me to permit you refuge.Or to deny it.""Brother Latorre, are you threatening me?""No, only this novice of yours." Latorre glanced at Ada."Him and the madwoman you've brought into our midst I want them both out.Tonight"Chapter 7'They made us leave? Because of me?"Gavriel said nothing, only supported her weight against his shoulder.Their possessions, hastily gathered, thumped against their backs with each shuffling step.Ada's knees and ankles had turned to water.The springtime chill wrapped around her and filled every pore.She nestled deeper into Gavriel's arms for both steadiness and warmth.She hoped that, in her moment of desperation, she would have held to any man with as much fervor.When she lifted her head, she saw two parallel lines of houses stretching before them.An interminable length.Nausea blossomed at the prospect of walking such a distance—or being dragged, more like."Hardly seems fair to you," she said, choking back the taste of bile."Cast out with me."His voice rumbled near her ear, a quiet thunder."Is that an apology?""I don't believe so.You brought this on yourself.""Keep saying that, inglesa." He stopped and hiked her up as she slumped."Then you won't share the responsibility."She licked her lips, thirstier than she could ever remember."You're not my master.""Nor do I want to be.""Then why do you do this?""I am bound to," he said quickly."All I want is your cooperation."She stumbled, but he did not let her fall.Anger and the familiar whiplash of betrayal struck against her breastbone."This is Jacob's fault, isn't it?""Not entirely.You are my.""What?"He stopped before the wide arches and painted brick of a former mosque, now a renovated cathedral, and scowled down at her.But the hesitance in his voice spoke of doubt."You are my final test before joining the Order.I must get you ' well or risk failing my novitiate."Every sensation of safety and unexpected comfort fled.He had defended her against the physician, keeping her warm, all to fulfill an obligation."You treat me as a game you must win.""And I will win, for your sake and for mine.""Do what you must I haven't the energy to fight you.Not tonight" The dim, narrow street threatened to tip upside-down.Her pulse thrummed at the pace of a galloping steed She swallowed like trying to gorge on her own tongue—anything, anything to keep from vomiting in his presence."Where are we going?""You shouldn't talk," he said."Ask questions, more like.Because you don't know yourself?""I seek a place that has neither a mewling physician nor delicate furnishings [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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