Free Julia Vanishes by Catherine Egan Page A

wherever she lived before she came here, though when I suggested this to Esme she just snorted.
    “Rifolta,” she says. “Poison.”
    Inside the pouch is something that looks like a piece of bark or a dried mushroom. It is brown and withered and gives off a pungent, moldy smell.
    “Oxley root,” says Liddy, examining it. “Good for snakebite, among other things, and might go a ways toward neutralizing the effects of the rifolta too. It was used long ago for combating sickness caused by magic.”
    “What’s the book?” I ask. I recognize Inglese, but I can’t read it.
    Liddy glances at the title, then opens the book and flips through it.
    “About the absorption of poisons.”
    I wonder if any of this will be significant to the as-yet-unknown client I am writing my reports for.
    “So the person who wants all this…is he planning to poison somebody? Or cure somebody who’s been poisoned?”
    “My best guess, dear, is that he wants to poison somebody
and
cure them, at the same time.”
    “What in blazing Kahge is the point of that?” I ask.
    “He wants to use a poison but mitigate the effects in some way,” says Liddy. “Fascinating. I can’t imagine why.”
    I ponder this a bit, and not knowing what to make of it, I let my mind wander. It wanders where it always wanders, straight into Wyn’s arms, and I think again of what I saw, or thought I saw, at the Cleansing. Liddy watches me, black eyes just visible in the folds of her remarkable face.
    “Are you well, Julia?”
    “Yes, fine,” I answer distractedly.
    “And Benedek?”
    “We’re both fine,” I say.
    Liddy looks up at the ceiling. So do I. There are patches of mold on it.
    “I wonder sometimes about the pattern that holds you. The places you return to.”
    Heaven help us. “You mean like here?”
    “No.” Liddy smiles—a fearsome expression, on her face. “I mean like the river Syne whenever there is a Cleansing.”
    My heart skips a beat. “How did you know I was there?”
    “Because you are always there,” says Liddy. “You are caught in something that takes you back. But I think it does you no good, Julia.”
    I shrug. “I almost
didn’t
go yesterday. I got talked into it. Does it matter?”
    “That depends,” says Liddy. “Maybe nothing matters. But here we are. What can we do?”
    I don’t know what Liddy’s getting at. Well, besides maybe not approving of my going to Cleansings.
    “I don’t think about it much,” I say. “Life is short.”
    I think of Wyn again. If I go to the river Syne to stare at Death, I go to his bed to drink my fill of Life. I want love and good food and adventure. I want my days to hold the possibility of surprise and joy. I want to see the sea someday. I don’t care about the patterns Liddy is talking about, as long as I don’t have to break my back working for pennies, as long as my life gives me room to breathe, something to laugh about, a lovely boy to keep me warm when winter sets in.
    “Sometimes life is short,” says Liddy. “Sometimes life is very long. It’s always all we have. Do you want to spend yours at the bottom of the river?”
    A shudder runs through me, and I leap to my feet.
    “It’s cold, Liddy. Should I light the stove?”
    “No,” says Liddy.
    “I’d better go,” I say.
    Liddy nods and parcels up the book, the root, the vial, tying the twine around the parcel just as it was. Liddy never asks questions about that sort of thing.
    “Be careful, Julia,” she says.
    “I always am,” I call back over my shoulder. I’m already halfway out the door.

    I should go straight back to the house. They will be wondering where I am if I don’t, and Frederick will surely be worried now, having sent me to the Edge. I hope his gallantry doesn’t provoke him to go looking for me. But I can’t help myself. I’ll think of some excuse for why I got held up. I have to see Wyn.
    Esme is alone in the parlor, seated on the floor in a bizarrely contorted position, eyes closed