CHAPTER 27
I do have to leave Juliane soon, however. The Sanctum bells rang at least a quarter hour ago, which means the noon prayers have started by now. I was supposed to call on Mother Agnes today, but I won’t even have time for a cursory visit. I’ll barely have enough minutes to change out of my Sun Day dress and get to the site soon enough to satisfy Magister Thomas.
“What did you learn from Emeline?” I ask Juliane. “Were there any possibilities for earlier victims?”
“Six, specifically,” she replies. Once we were past the awkwardness of her confession, Juliane’s manner changed to brisk efficiency. “As Simon doesn’t want us to write any of them down yet, I think it best if I give you only three at a time to investigate further. Any more and you’re likely to forget or mix details.”
It must be strange for Juliane to watch other people struggle with memorizing. Does she find it frustrating that no one else can recall everything perfectly, or is it a relief when they forget what she wishes she could?
She gives me the names, dates, and locations of the first three women, then makes me repeat them twice. When she’s satisfiedthat I’ll remember them, she urges me to leave. “It’s not pleasant in here.”
I don’t want to abandon her to this foul confinement. “What will you do if… you start to have problems again?”
“Madame Denise will take care of me,” Juliane answers. “She always has.”
Then the bells toll to signal the end of prayers and the beginning of work on the Sanctum, and I’m already late.
In the next few days, I manage to get in Remi’s good graces by putting extra effort into inspecting the scaffolds assembled under his arching ceiling frames. When Magister Thomas finally allows him to start placing stones for the vault ribs over the wooden braces, he won’t have to wait on me. The architect I please by verifying the drainage from the new buttresses before he asks. Fine weather allows better-than-average progress, and both their moods improve. With the execution of the grain merchant, the mood of the city also improves.
In quieter moments, I allow myself to dwell on Simon’s absence, but the moon is waxing, one sliver at a time, rising and setting later every day. By the time he returns, I should be able to see the moon until around midnight.
Which means I could be the first to know when the killer strikes again.
I might even be able to stop him.
In the times I’m able to slip away from the Sanctum, I visit the places Juliane’s three women were found—an alley, a drainage ditch, and a cellar. I’m fairly certain she gave me ones that were different so I could distinguish them in my memory. When I ask questions of people in the area, I get mixed responses. Some are eager to talk to me and demonstrate exactly how the bodieslay when they were found. Others only mutter that they can’t remember. Two were verified to be prostitutes, but the third had actually just been married, and her husband immediately fled the city. That one I think we can eliminate.
Juliane agrees when I visit three days later. She still wears only a dressing gown, and her appearance is little improved. According to Lambert, who led me upstairs this time, she’s been suffering from splitting headaches, but I think that’s her ruse to be left alone. It’s a relief to unload everything I’ve learned, knowing she won’t forget.
“Simon will return the day after tomorrow, correct?” I ask, pretending I haven’t kept meticulous track of the days.
“That was his plan,” she says. “Do you think you can inquire about the next three women by then?”
“If this rain keeps up,” I reply. It had started early that morning, which was why I was able to visit her. Much as I appreciate the free time it gives me, the clouds will block the moon tonight and any effects I might feel. I’d wanted to experiment with tracking a person through the streets at varying distances.
I’m only able to find information on two of the women the next day, but I bring what I know to Juliane, stalling until afternoon to increase the chance of seeing Simon.
He’s not back yet.
Frustrated, I return home, wishing I’d waited a few more hours. My only consolation is that after two solid days of rain, the skies have begun to clear. From my window, I watch the nearly half-moon peak as the sun sinks toward the horizon. Its effects seem much greater when the sun is gone, but I do think my senses are a little better whenever it’s visible in the sky.
A knock on my door makes me jump. Then I realize the sound came from downstairs, and I smile. Yes, I am hearing better.
Knowing the magister is dining late with a patron and Mistressla Fontaine went to bed an hour ago due to a head cold, I hurry down the steps to answer the door, hoping it’s Simon.
It is.
I’m wearing work clothes—a plain skirt that goes to my knees, with an overtunic of sorts which helps keep it clean, but I’d put extra care into my appearance when hoping to see him earlier. The look on his face is worth every second spent teasing my hair into a flattering style in front of a tiny mirror.
“Cat,” he whispers, blinking rapidly.
I smile shyly. “Simon. I’m glad to see you’re back. Does Juliane know yet?”
He enters the workroom as I step aside for him. “Ah, yes. I’ve already spoken to her. I wanted to thank you for all the work you did while I was gone.”
Of course he went home first. But did he come just to thank me, or could there be another reason? “You’re welcome,” I tell him as I close the door and lean on it. “You didn’t have to walk all the way over here to tell me that, though.”
“Oh, it wasn’t any trouble,” he says, pushing one side of his cloak over his shoulder, then tugging at the clasp which pulls at his neck as he avoids my eyes. “I was passing by.”