The air smelled of old straw turned to dust and the faint sourness of mildew, but there was no stench of rot or standing water. It was dry. They breathed out in relief.
Idris led the horse and the cart through the doors, the wheels rumbling over the threshing floor. Seraphina closed the doors before too much snow could get in. Once that was done, she moved to the center of the space and took it in through Saint Vivia’s relic. To her right, there were stall partitions standing along the wall, and to her left, there once had been the hay bay.
“There’s a corner of stone floor at the back,” Idris said. “They must have done their boiling there or kept a stove. It should be safe enough to make a fire.”
“Anything else?”
“There’s a ladder that leads up to the loft. It looks sound enough. I see a few wooden planks, though I think their only use will be as firewood. There’s also a workbench along the left-hand wall, toward the back.”
Seraphina headed there, stopping in front of the low piece of furniture. She brushed her hand over it, assessing that it was solid, built from thick wood, maybe oak. A vice was mounted on one end, a heavy iron screw-clamp for holding wood or metal. A grim image that made her shudder.
“We’ll do it here,” she said.
“Do what?”
“I mean you, you’ll do it here. Tonight.” She bent over and ran both her hands from one end to the other to better judge the dimensions of the workbench. “It’s big enough that I can lie on it.”
She heard him let out a deep, tired sigh.
“I want nothing more than to say no. The conditions are unhygienic, and light will be a problem. But you’re right. It has to be done.”
Seraphina nodded and went to retrieve the snow bucket.
Chapter Four
The tongue she was tasting was her own.
The fire burned low and unsteady, throwing long shadows on the walls. Idris had wiped down the workbench with snow, then with a cloth soaked in vinegar. He’d found a blanket in the cart and thrown it over the wood, and now Seraphina was lying down, scarf still in place, her fingers fidgeting with the bone shards along the Hearthband she wore as a belt. She was waiting for him to finish setting up.
There were a few things that were bothering her, preventing her from relaxing and preparing her mind for what was to come.
Idris had convinced her to get out of her cloak, and her attention was constantly pulled toward where it hung from a peg near the entrance. It was too far away. Not the cloak – the vomer bone she’d left in its pocket. If she focused, listened closely enough, she swore she could hear it humming to her, a subtle vibration that moved the air, making the tiny hairs on her body stand on end.
Then there was the issue of telling Idris about the greater relic she had in her eye socket, the atlas vertebra of the child Saint Vivia. He would have to remove it first. What would he think about her? It wasn’t like there was any other option, but still, she found herself delaying it until the last moment.
The medicine chest was open on the floor, and she heard him set down his tools on an overturned crate he’d found in the barn. It turned out there was an oil lamp in the cart, and plenty of candles, and he’d already arranged them so he’d have light coming from different angles.
As talented a surgeon as he was, what if it all went wrong? What if her eyes, once attached, wouldn’t work? They’d been separated from a host for hours, kept in rather unsanitaryconditions. What if her wounds got infected? Would she have to ask him to reimplant the relic?
What if it worked, and she could see again… Would she readjust to seeing the world in color? From shadows – dark, light, and in between – to the green of the forest and the blue of the sky.
What if it worked and she found Rune at the convent, and saw his face for the first time?
What if it worked and she could read Matteo’s journal?
“Idris…”
She sat up abruptly, but he was there, his fingers encircling her wrist as he pushed a flask into her hand.
“Drink this first.”
She sniffed the offering. “Brandy?”
“Take a few generous gulps. For courage.”
She frowned, and he chuckled, but she could tell it wasn’t lighthearted.
“Not only for courage, I know you don’t lack it. I’ll give you laudanum next. With a Quietus Net on top – literally on top, because I’ll have to lay it on your chest – it will knock you out.”
