The novices stood in four rows of three so all but two were on the perimeter, any inattention apt to cause an ear to be twisted as Mistress Spirit passed by.
“Why?” The nun paused at Nona’s shoulder. “Why does Sweet Mercy admit penniless strays from child-takers? Why does Abbess Glass reach into the Church’s own coffers to pay the confirmation fees for peasants?” She moved on. “Because it is a sin that any parent should sell their child. Some might hold that this same sin taints the child themselves, but Abbess Glass points to the convent’s own name and shows these children mercy.”
“Also,” Inquisitor Pelter spoke into the pause, “a sold child belongs to the Church in a way that a wanted child cannot.”
Sister Wheel scowled, pressing her lips into a bitter line. She kept her eyes on the novices and resumed her circuit around their perimeter, a sheep-hound hemming in her flock. “The false precedence of the Church’s claim on children in its care over that of their parents’ is one of the pillars upon which the foul edifice of the Scithrowl heresy stands. It is clearly stated in the Book of the Ancestor that a parent’s wishes are prime. The bonds of family, holy as they are, allow any parent to withdraw their child from service at convent or monastery, even if the high priest himself should object. In Scithrowl the Church claims a divine right to any child in their care. This is why they must burn—to purify them of their sin.”
“And,” Inquisitor Pelter slid his narrow voice into another gap, “it is why Abbess Glass buys girls. She would rather not lose control of trained novices should a father or mother demand their return. She avoids rather than defies the law.”
Nona furrowed her brow, keeping her gaze on the face of the Ancestor, the golden features so simplified they could belong to anyone. Abbess Glass had always told her she was free to leave, that the convent was a home not a prison. It seemed that the Church might disagree with that assessment. She glanced across at Zole. Of all the Mystic Class novices Zole was perhaps the only other sold child. She hadn’t been sold to Abbess Glass, though. Sherzal had acquired the girl from the ice. Zole had never seen fit to share the details of that transaction.
The lesson continued, Sister Wheel making her predatory circles and droning on relentlessly about the minor differences in the interpretation of scripture that made the Scithrowl Church of the Ancestor an unholy evil, worse than the Durns with their pantheon of battle gods, or the raiders off the grey ice who were said to eat babies and wreak untold horrors on their prisoners.
Nona occupied herself by studying Joeli. Slipping into the clarity trance, she could see how the fractured bone in Joeli’s knee was thread-bound to several areas of the girl’s head. Nona lacked the expertise to identify the areas individually, except for the pain centre, which was obvious. However, she had little doubt that one of the other areas the injury connected to was memory and another specialized in revenge. For her part, Joeli returned the inspection, watching Nona with an annoying half-smile.
At last Bray rang out and Sister Wheel released the class. The novices hurried from the dome, trying to rub the chill from their arms.
“Bleed me, that was dull, even for Wheel.” Darla stamped alongside Nona, trying to get some life back into her legs.
“She’s showing the inquisitor that we’re well educated in the ways of heresy here,” Nona said.
“It is surprising,” said Zole behind them. “That surrounded by unbelievers on all sides, and even among your own peasantry, so much effort is spent on hunting down and torturing those who agree with your faith almost entirely.”
Darla turned round, blinking. “She speaks!”
“Our faith,” Nona said. “Not ‘your’ faith.”
Darla glanced back at the inquisitor, now following in their wake. “The shrimp’s right. Not a good day to be expressing doubts.” She frowned. “Who do you pray to on the ice then?”
Zole shrugged. “Any god who answers.”
They walked for a moment in silence, aiming for the novice cloister. Nona pursed her lips, then decided to see just how talkative Zole was today.
“It looks as if the abbess is going to let you on the ice-ranging.”
Zole shrugged again.
“Are you going to run if she does?”
“Run?” Zole shot Nona a dark, unreadable look.
“Back to your tribe.”
“Would you run with me, Nona Grey?” Zole asked. “I am told that the ‘Chosen One’ should not abandon her Shield.”
“To your tribe?” Nona couldn’t help smiling at the thought.
“Or to yours?” Zole said. “But I thought you had murder in mind. Revenge. A shipheart to recover.”
The smile left Nona as quickly and as involuntarily as it had come. Of all the things that lay beyond the Rock, whether it be in the Corridor or on the ice, Yisht was the one that called to her. Yisht’s blood, waiting to be spilled.
“We will visit the ice together, Nona,” Zole said. “I will show you another world and how to live in it.”
Nona met the ice-triber’s gaze, surprised. “I’d like that.” And for the briefest moment she could swear she saw a smile tug at Zole’s lips.
* * *
? ? ?
IN THE NOVICE cloister Nona sat with her friends from Grey Class. Darla came over too but wandered off when talk turned to the caves.
“What’s up with her?” Ara frowned at Darla’s broad and departing back.
“The creature in the caves did the same to all of you. It’s thread-work. The fear it put in us knotted something up in your heads. It was supposed to stop any of us coming back. It was something deeper than fear—you couldn’t even hear me talk about the caves.”
“That’s not . . . true . . .” Ruli trailed off, echoing Ara’s frown. “Is it?”
“It is. I saw the damage it did.” Nona bit off any further explanation, not wanting to explain how she avoided the same fate.
“Why hasn’t it worn off with Darla?” Jula asked.
Nona shrugged. Explaining what she’d done would just invite more questions. “Maybe it takes longer when you’re that big.”
The wind swirled hard for a moment, whipping up dead oak leaves and making the girls shield their faces. Seconds later the squall passed, the ice-wind returning to its steady north-south roaring.
“Ketti won’t talk about it either,” Ruli said.
“Maybe she’s got boy-fever again.” Nona shrugged. “So tomorrow then?”
“Yes.” Ara nodded.
“I’m not going without a spear,” Ruli said. “A knife at the least.”
“I’ll bring you a knife,” Nona said.
At last she wants to kill something! And what she chooses to cut cannot bleed . . .
Give me a better plan then! Nona demanded, but Keot fell back into his silence.
“Is this sensible? Is it worth it?” Jula asked. “What if it’s got teeth as big as my arm? Weren’t there bodies in that cave?”
“Dozens of them,” Ara said.
Nona’s gaze found Joeli across the cloister amid a circle of her friends, almost hidden behind the trunk of the centre oak. “This is the Rock of Faith. The cave that thing was in is practically beneath this convent. In four years we could be Red Sisters. If we don’t even dare explore the holes under where we live . . . what use are we going to be out in the world?” She bit her lip, remembering their escape. “Besides. If it were some monstrous creature, what does it eat? Flooding your prey with fear so that it runs away and never returns isn’t a very good strategy for filling your belly. This thing seems more like a stink-fox to me, spraying its foulness to scare intruders off.”
“But the bodies!” Jula said.
“I saw skeletons,” Nona said, trying to see them again. “Covered in flow-stone like the ones in the niche. They had to be centuries old . . .”