"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."
Location: St. Etheldreda's - Infirmary
The young Dame led her noble guest (and her bodyguards too, apparently) away from the Chapel, past the Quadrangle, Cloister, and up stone stairs to a corridor containing the rooms where visiting Bishops and dignitaries might stay. It is within this castle-like hallway that Mary found her lodging, and where she supposed that the Nuns from earlier brought the child. Not to her rooms, though in her search she did peek her head in, but into one of the Aide's rooms, positioned very nearby so that the people designated to use these rooms might never be too far away from trusted advisers or servants. She quickly realized that the child wasn't where she expected him to be. It was ...annoying.
To begin with, she believed that these Nuns, these women who had apparently earlier forgotten their oath of Obedience, had dropped the kid outside or left him near the stable.
That reminded her... Mary took another look inside of her rooms, hastily grabbing her white and red robe, soiled from earlier. If the kid were stashed someplace logical by the Nuns, it would be in the Infirmary where people who were already watching over others could see to him, just to make sure. Laundry was nearby.
Their path led them back down to the Quadrangle and farther into the Ely House. Not very far away from the pale light filtering in from the open sky of the courtyard, the fresh faced Apostolic dropped off her robe with a cheery smile, giving the women present and warm
"Oh, thank you!" before continuing a couple more doors down. She stopped, waving over the Russian Lady and her Imperial Guard. Her speech was admittedly mostly for the guards.
"In this place we provide what service we can for the sick and injured. We try to keep it a place of calm and healing. If it is at all possible, could you men... um... please try to look a little less threatening? We are here to visit an ailing child, remember." Mary knew what it meant to be in militant service of another. But she also knew what it meant to honestly care for others. These men had families, quite possibly. Maybe they could show a modicum of compassion. Or at least pretend to.
Sister Mary opened the door to their smallish medical ward and held it open for Elizaveta. After she entered (rightly with escort, of course), Mary slipped inside and closed the doors behind her. She leaned her halberd against the line of cloak pegs near the door and retook her place at the head of their little procession.
The Infirmary itself was everything that one would expect from a hospital of the time and place. Mary had often wished that those in charge would take some cues from physicians much farther south; Europe proper seemed to have more knowledgeable doctors at their disposal. Here, vinegar and prayer seemed to be the catch-all treatment, except in the cases of obviously traumatic injury (and Mary had often suggested that even then, they snuck in Biblical verses and pickling fluids). The letting of blood was also a common practice, but thankfully that was not being demonstrated at the time.
Moreover, the Nuns taking care of this place seemed intent on murmuring incessantly, and mostly about Sister Mary. She had no idea that being a Papal Dame and Vatican trained Venator est Inanimati would earn her such undeserved scorn from the women of St. Etheldreda's. These mutterings, barely given a passing attempt to conceal, broadcast their belief that Mary's abilities (which she supposedly didn't have in the first place) didn't work right, and that the boy would turn yet. The Apostolic's face turned to the nearest set of them, face twisting into a look of hurt and outrage simultaneously until the thought hit her: Check on the boy. Maybe they're saying mean things
for a reason.
Sure enough, the child did not look well. It couldn't be that the healing did not take. His wounds were closed and health restored. And he could not be succumbing to the Ryne - she knew by divine providence that her Lord had allowed the taint of the Soulless to be purged from his body. But the child's lips looked cold, even as is body showed signs of approaching fever. This was something else. Whatever the problem, it was most certainly beyond the capacity of the mundane healing techniques here. Also, seemingly untouched Mary's gift of Timyne.
"Here is the boy, my Lady. He was Healed, and his soul was protected. If you can do more to heal or give greater knowledge of his ailment, I would be very grateful. I know he would, as well." 
