“The lands of darkness,” he murmured.
“Just so. The Alfar Mountains lie to the south of our homeland, and here is Aosta. There, along the coast of the Middle Sea, lies Arethousa.”
“’Beware Arethousans bearing gifts.’ I see no stone crowns in the heretics’ lands.”
“Neither do I. Yet it is hard to say whether that is because there are none, or only because the good sisters of St. Ekatarina had not heard of any. They could mark only those they knew of, and surely they do not believe they know everything.”
“So few of us do.”
She smiled, hearing his old, wickedly sweet humor. “Is there a pattern here, that you can see?”
His sharp smile quirked. “No circle that has only one stone.”
“Or even two. That would be a fine philosophical question for the skopos’ schola, would it not?”
“No doubt St. Peter the Geometer would have something to say on the question of how many points make up a circle,” said Ruoda.
“I will let you lead the discussion, Sister,” said Rosvita with another smile. Ruoda had the grace to blush, yet Rosvita did not like to scold the young clerics under her supervision for loving their learning a little too much. Age humbled one soon enough, as she knew from her aching back and the headache still afflicting her, a last vestige of the summer fever. Both Heriburg and Ruoda had gotten sick, but they had recovered so very quickly; let them believe that youth and rude good health would protect them a little longer. The world would teach them otherwise soon enough.
Fortunatus crossed abruptly to the window, leaning out as if to make sure no birds had come to perch on the sill to listen. At last, he turned back. “The little dove had a spoken message for you as well, Sister. I am to meet her tomorrow after Vigils to bring her your answer.”
“Can she not come to me?”
“She said she feared she had already drawn attention to herself by asking after you. I know not what she is afraid of, but I swore to honor her request. She seemed to find me trustworthy.”
Rosvita smiled. “Do not look so downcast, Brother Fortunatus. Good behavior has quite ruined your reputation as a reprobate, but I am sure you will recover in time.” Ruoda giggled. When Fortunatus had chuckled, even if weakly, she went on. “Pray tell me what message Mother Obligatia has sent.”
“A puzzling one, to be sure. A woman seeking refuge has come to the convent, where she remains for now in the guesthouse. She wishes to be admitted into the convent as a nun. She calls herself Sister Venia and says she took part of her education at the schola in Mainni and part of it at St. Hillary’s in Karrone. By her accent and bearing, the good mother believes she is a woman of noble background, either from southern Varre or from the kingdom of Karrone. She seems well educated and familiar with the skopos’ palace. The good mother wishes to know if you know aught of her. She is an old woman, kindly, unaccustomed to physical labor but very learned.”
“I know of no such woman.” She glanced at the two girls, who merely shrugged. They had come south with Rosvita and the king and knew even less than she did. “Was there anything more?”
“That is all the girl told me. Truly, Sister Rosvita, I wonder that Mother Obligatia would not welcome more dedicated nuns. Her convent was dwindling. It must not be easy to lure novices to such an inhospitable place.”
“Alas, that we must all be suspicious in troubled times. I tell you truly, I am hesitant even to ask here in the palace, among the clerics, for fear that I should, like Paloma, draw attention to myself.”
“We could ask,” said Ruoda. “All the elegant Aostan clerics think we are hopeless Wendish barbarians anyway. If we’re careful, no one will think anything of our questions.”
“Especially if a question about the existence of Sister Venia is only one among many,” murmured Heriburg. For such a tidy, quiet soul, she manifested a startlingly roguish gleam in her eyes now and again.
Rosvita’s father, Count Harl, had trained his most spirited hounds that way: by giving them a little more freedom with each lesson rather than beating them into submission. “Very well, but do not—”
The door opened without warning. Rosvita slapped her hands down over the parchment, although truly it was vain to attempt to hide it. Aurea entered carrying a tray of bread and wine. Her face was flushed, as though she had been running.
“My lady! There’s a presbyter here from Lord Hugh. You’re to go at once to attend the queen.” She began to set the tray down on the table but pulled up short, seeing the parchment.
