They knew her by many names, the Pelarthi did, but ‘Cage’ held as much fear as any other. Cage. She would not release you: you would not escape. The tales said she made her first kill in the same year she learned to walk. They said she tore a boy apart with her bare hands and took his heart to show her mother.
Sister Cage found the torn-faced archer among the crowded strength of the Pelarthi and a knowing passed between them, between the archer’s cold grey eyes and the Sister’s black orbs. The arrow fell with a clatter. The archer turned without a word and began to push her way back, past the warriors of her clan. To her left another turned, a man thick with muscle, the names of his forefathers inked in runes along his arms. Two of those he pushed aside turned and ran with him.
A trickle became a flood. The Pelarthi left the scores of their dead, still scattered or heaped where Sister Thorn had killed them. They ran, pursued by a terror they couldn’t name, something larger than the sister who stood behind them, but perhaps as small as the disappointment in her eyes when they turned to flee.
Clera waited beside Ara as Nona strode towards them through the pillars. In the heavens above the first crimson stars dared open their eyes.
‘Is she dead?’
‘How are you here?’ Clera ignored the question. ‘You weren’t supposed to be here! How did you know? … and even then, how did you get here?’
‘Is she dead?’ Nona rushed forward, pushing Clera back, away from Ara, who was still coiled about the spear. She knelt, reaching out to touch the spread gold of her hair. ‘Ara?’
‘You should never have let me go.’ The words sputtered from Clera as if she were hurt, as if it were her wrapped around a spear. ‘You had me bound. Guilty. You should have let them drown me.’
‘I wouldn’t do that to a friend.’ Nona set her fingers to Ara’s neck, seeking a pulse. The smallest of groans, the smallest tremble of a hand.
A short laugh burst from Clera, sounding as much like pain as mirth. ‘They all think you’re the big bad. The church’s hammer. Cage the Shadowless. And you’re still a child, Nona! You run into everything heart-first, expecting … what? You didn’t understand how people work when the abbess brought you here, a dirty-footed peasant. You didn’t understand when she sent you away. And you don’t understand now. People lie, Nona, they steal, they cheat, they’re unfaithful. People hurt you, they let you down. They sell you out.’
‘It doesn’t mean I have to be like that.’ Nona stared up at Clera who flinched, guilty before those black eyes. ‘We have a whole church built on ancestors.’ She waved an arm at the dome. ‘Family. Dead family.’ She took Ara’s hand in hers. ‘You choose your friends. If you’re going to worship dead people you didn’t choose, then perhaps the bonds of friendship shouldn’t be so easily broken. No?’
Clera shook her head. ‘You’re a fool, Nona Grey. Are you going to kill me now, or let someone else do it?’
‘Ara could live. If we get her to Sister Rose. Now!’ Nona glanced back towards the convent. They were coming. The old sisters and the young girls. Sister Thorn had vowed to protect them. Sister Cage to fight alongside them.
Clera waved her hand at the distant nuns, exasperated. ‘Let them take her. I don’t care. I didn’t come for Ara. She was just in the way.’
Nona released Ara’s hand with a squeeze and stood. ‘I’ve missed you, Clera. It’s been too many years.’
Clera glanced out across the plateau. ‘We were children, Nona. Children make and break friendships all the time. It’s not important. This, what we’re doing now, this is important. It’s about sides in the great game that’s being played. And you’re on the wrong one. The losing one. You should change sides.’
Nona shook her head. ‘I’m not playing. And I’ve always been on your side, Clera. You’ve just not properly understood it.’
Clera looked down at Ara. ‘I wanted her to run.’
‘I know.’
‘She should have run. There were too many of them for her. Why did she have to be so stupid?’
Nona shrugged. ‘Where is Lano Tacsis?’
‘You know the Tacsis.’ Clera nodded towards the plateau stretching out beyond the pillars. ‘They like to let you spend your power against people they consider expendable, then arrive to finish the job if anything’s left to finish.’
‘They do.’
‘He’s out there with his soldiers and eight Noi-Guin. His teachers from the Tetragode. Others too.’
Nona looked down at her sword. ‘My power’s not spent.’
‘You think you can kill me without reaching for the Path, little Nona?’ Clera drew her sword, a twin to Nona’s, taken from the body of a Red Sister.
Nona turned away, her back to Clera, looking out across the plateau.
‘I think I won’t need to kill you,’ Nona said. ‘I think you’ll fight them with me. Sister.’
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to Jane Johnson for editing this and my previous six books. Not only has Jane helped to shape the work but she has also helped to inspire it and acquired the trilogy for Voyager. That’s a lot of help!
Thanks also to the other good folk at Voyager who have worked hard to put this book in your hands, including Emma Coode, Natasha Bardon, Katie Sadler, Jaime Frost and the HarperFiction sales team.
Agnes Meszaros has also been very supportive during the creation of this trilogy, both as beta-reader-in-chief and as supplier of chocolate!
Thanks too for early reads from Mia Caringal, Tom Brown, Nimue Brown, Nadine Kharabian, and Helen Mazarakis. Finally, let’s have another round of applause for my agent, Ian Drury, and the team at Sheil Land for all their sterling work.