All around them the other novices watched amazed. Apart from the dropping of jaws none of them had had time to move.
“Good,” Tallow repeated. “Changing rooms.”
“There.” Zole heaved in a breath. “Was that a bell?”
Nona hadn’t heard it either. She grinned. An echo of it showed on Zole’s lips. The ice-triber pushed back sweaty hair and turned for the changing room.
“Nona.” Sister Tallow pointed to the chair that Joeli had vacated. “When you’ve finished here, Nona, have Sister Rose look at those injuries.” The nun walked across to Joeli, now standing beside the chair, and handed her the razor. “If you cut her, Joeli, you’ll be her sparring partner next lesson.”
Sister Tallow relieved Nona of her training sword and went to stow it away. Nona took her place in the chair without a word, staring straight ahead.
“A close shave will make it easier to wear a wig for the Shade Trial.” Joeli held the back of Nona’s head, lifting the razor to Nona’s brow, the steel cold on her skin. “You might get past us as a blonde . . .” The razor scraped and a chunk of black hair fell into Nona’s lap.
Slice her throat. Say she tried to kill you. Keot flowed along the veins and tendons in Nona’s wrist.
No. For a moment the idea tempted her. Keot’s violence bleeding through. At least Nona hoped it was just that.
Yes! Keot moved across her down-turned palm, a scarlet scald. He twitched in her fingers, trying to take control.
No. Nona forced him back.
Joeli worked quickly with a sure hand, and although Nona kept her teeth gritted, her body tensed to spring into action, it was only hair that came down rather than blood.
With a surprisingly gentle touch, Joeli tilted Nona’s head forward to scrape away the last of the hair from the base of her neck. Nona’s head felt cold and strange.
“Of course you’ve no more chance of passing the trial than you do of taking the Grey.” Another scrape of the blade. “Any more than you stand a chance of catching Yisht. It’s been what, almost three years now? Your little peasant friend will just have to go as unrevenged as she was unmourned.”
Nona snarled and thrust her head back, intending to get herself cut if that was the price of a sparring session with Joeli. But the razor was no longer there.
“I don’t have to be fast if you’re going to be predictable, now do I?” Joeli stepped away, laughing that same tinkling laugh that Ara and Terra had shared in the Mensis mansion, something as artificial to Nona’s ear as it was ugly.
16
“YOU WANT ME to throw you into the sinkhole?”
“Yes.” Nona followed in Darla’s wake, out across the fractured stone towards the yawning mouth of the Glasswater.
“In an ice-wind!”
“Yes.”
“You’ll freeze to death.”
Darla had a point: the wind howled around them. Nona’s head was already starting to feel like a solid block of ice.
“It’s a risk I’m prepared to take. At least I won’t have to dry my hair.”
Darla barked a laugh at that and ran a hand over Nona’s baldness.
“Why do you want me to throw you in?” Darla peered over the edge at the dark waters forty feet below.
“Because you’re the strongest.” Nona looked up at her friend. At fifteen Darla stood a good six-foot nine inches, broad in the chest, her arms thicker than Nona’s thighs.
Darla sighed. “Let’s get this over with.” She reached for Nona.
“Not from here!” Nona skipped away from Darla’s hand. “Over there!” Pointing, she ran to her chosen spot ten yards back into the wind.
Darla walked after her. “I know you’re a shrimp, but I’m not sure I can throw you that far, even wind-assisted.”
“I’m going to help you,” Nona said. “Put your hands like this, down low.” She cupped her hands together. “I’ll run at you, step in your hands, and you boost me over your head.”
Darla spread her arms, palms out. “That’s insane!”
“You said you’d help me out!” Nona hugged herself against the wind’s cold.
“But . . .” Darla shook her head and spat out a piece of ice. “What’s this for?”
“Can’t tell you. Conflict of interest. I’m protecting you.”
Darla pursed her lips, frowning. “Do we have to do it this far back? What if you fall short?”
“If I fall short then I’ll probably hurt myself.”
“Can’t we start closer?” Darla looked over her shoulder, judging the distance.
“We are starting closer. Next time we’ll add five yards. And there’s only so many times I want to jump in today.” Zero was the true number.
“Ancestor!” Darla spat again. “You’re crazy. You know that?”
Nona grinned. “Ready?”
“No.” Darla knelt and put her hands into a stirrup, ready for Nona’s lead foot.
Nona started to back off.
Darla called after her. “Let’s at least practise the last few steps!”
And so they did. Nona took the last five steps of her run in, set her foot into Darla’s hands and Darla launched Nona over her head. Nona landed two yards behind her, the force of the impact concertinaing her into a tight hunch about folded legs. They repeated the move four times.
“Good.” Nona rubbed her aching ankles. “You’ve got to be even quicker this time. I’ll be coming in fast and I need to keep the speed. Hold your hands higher . . . here . . . I’ll jump.”
Nona backed off ten yards and stripped off both shoes then her range-coat, placing them in the lee of a boulder.
* * *
? ? ?
“YOU WANT ME to steal a tub of kelp juice?”
“Yes.” Nona followed Ruli towards the vinery.
“Nasty stinking half-rotted seaweed?” Ruli stopped and peered at Nona as if she might be unwell.
“Yes. You can do it. Everyone knows Sister Oak is sweet on you.”
“Sister Oak,” Ruli sniffed, “appreciates my ledger-keeping skills and the nose I have for wine.”
“Whatever.” Nona pushed Ruli back into walking. “You can get me a tub.”
“Of course I can.” Ruli grinned over her shoulder. “There’s scores of them at the vinery. Best fertilizer money can buy. Plus we don’t pay for it. It’s harvested on the beach at Gerran’s Crag. I bet the Holy Sisters have a ball at that convent. My pa says most of them stink of seaweed and the ones that don’t smell of fish.”
“Good. Hide it for me somewhere easy to get at and let me know.” Nona turned away, stifling a sneeze.
“Wait! You’re not coming?”
“Got things to do!”
“You only love me for my rotten seaweed juice.” Ruli pouted. “What do you want it for?” She brightened. “You’re going to tip it over Joeli, aren’t you? Do it! Do it! It’ll turn her hair green. You can’t wash it out!”
“Something like that!” And Nona ran off across the courtyard before stopping and calling back. “Oh, and I need a net. A big one, like the ones they use to keep the barrels in the carts.”
Nothing to say, Keot?
The devil remained silent, sulking across her ribs. The discovery that being submerged in truly icy water distressed him so much was a useful one that Nona vowed to investigate more thoroughly at a later date.
* * *
? ? ?
“CHALLENGE!”
Nona raised her hands. “You got me!”
Zole scowled. “It was not difficult.”
Across the novice cloister members of Mystic Class were converging on them, weaving through the other classes who stood chatting in their usual groups, huddled on benches or strolling beneath the galleries.
Nona unwound her headscarf. “Got to try!”
“You’re the only novice wearing a headscarf,” Zole said.
“And now you’re the only bald novice,” Alata said, drawing up to them.
“Also you’re the only novice with huge black eyes like an insect.” Joeli came up behind them from her patrol of the gallery.