But Zole
Zole will have her Shield.
3
Holy Class
Present Day
After leaving Markus at the Caltess Nona ran to the city gates. She covered the five miles from Veritys walls to the foot of the Rock of Faith at a near sprint. The burning of her muscles and the hot thrill of her blood battled the night winds chill.
Doubt dogged her footsteps, each mile and each yard. The voices of her suspicion were almost as real, almost as disembodied as Keots voice had been when he lived beneath her skin. Will he be true? Can he be trusted? Questions Nona had no answer for, just the feeling in her gut. Clera betrayed you, the voices whispered, and she was a friend.
She saved me too. Panted out between breaths as Nona picked up her pace, trying to outrun her doubts.
Nona shook her head, sweat flying in the wind. She was to be a nun. She would choose from the disciplines offered to her. Just a handful of final tests stood between her and the vows. She was to stand her life upon a foundation of faith. Faith that the branches of the Ancestors tree would hold her, and that those branches would carry all of humanity into a future less dark than they feared. If a nun could not have faith then who could? The bonds of friendship had always borne her more firmly than those of blood. Markus had ridden with her in the cage and that bond would suffice. She had faith that it would. Also she had a back-up plan. With a gasp of effort she ran faster still, until any that she might have passed on the road that night would have stood amazed and watched her fly.
At last she came to a halt, breathing heavily. The base of a great limestone cliff rose above her. From its heights the southern windows of Blade Hall offered a view of the city and, twenty miles beyond, the ice glimmering red beneath the moon. Those walls were closer now than they had been when Abbess Glass had first brought Nona to the convent. North and south the ice squeezed and all the nations of the Corridor bled.
The start of the Seren Way lay close at hand, just a few minutes walk around the Rock, but Wheel had taken to watching it of late. The old woman spent whole nights seated at the narrowest part, wrapped in a great blanket and staring at the night with watery eyes, just waiting to catch any errant novice. Why she didnt just check the dormitories was unclear but Ruli claimed Wheel had been made to vow never to enter the building under the tenure of the previous abbess following an unspecified incident. Ruli claimed a novice had been killed, but when pressed she had to admit making that part up.
Nona craned her neck and looked up at the dark acreage of stone. Here and there moonlight picked out a line where it caught upon an edge of rock. She took a deep breath, swung her arms, and began to climb. She followed an old fault line, digging her leather-clad toes into the crack, reaching up for fingerholds. Her flaw-blades would make a quicker, easier job of it but Nona had learned the danger in relying too much on something that might not always be there. Besides, the pattern of regular slots driven into the rock might be spotted one day, and it would be hard to deny her own signature.
As she gained height Nonas arms began to join her legs in complaint. Her hands ached from punching Denam over and over. The thought of him falling gave her fresh energy, though. She had wanted to fight him for years. She could say it was to take him down a peg or three, punishment for being a bully, or that it was payment for his attempt to break her in the ring on the instructions of Raymel Tacsis. The truth though was something less laudable, and came in two parts, both now settling into her mind as truths often do when a head is empty of all things save the demands of hard labour.
Nona had fought Denam because even with Keot gone a hunger for violence burned in her and if left unfed too long it would break out in dangerous ways. Much of what she had blamed on Raymels devil seemed instead to be some fundamental part of who she had grown into. Denam represented that rare someone, a person she could hit over and over without the danger of killing them, or any need for remorse over pain inflicted.
The other reasons for the contest had been Markus and Regol. She had asked Markus to break holy law. She owed it to him to show him who he was breaking those rules for. And Regol Regol needed to see it too. Regol who spoke foolishness into the pillows when she joined him beneath the roof that Partnis Reeve put over his head. Regol who thought her something precious, as holy as the vows she broke. He needed to see what really lay behind the eyes he claimed to lose himself in. Something sharp-angled and vicious not the princess he sometimes let himself pretend she was. Nona knew better than to allow him to build his hopes upon a lie. Regol fulfilled a need, as Denam had, one in the ring, one in the furs. She and Regol were friends whose bodies were pleasing to each other. She couldnt let a friend build their hopes upon such a flawed foundation as her. She hadnt saved Saida, or Hessa, or Darla. Even as an agent of vengeance she had failed. Sherzal, the architect behind so many deaths, still walked the world, as did others who had served her will.
Nona hauled herself over the edge of the cliff and lay on her back on the cold stone, just inches from the fall. Her arms trembled, her body knew the bone-deep exhaustion of prolonged mistreatment, but her mind still raced, images rising from the darkness, one after the next. Denams anger, Regols surprise, Markuss caution, a hundred other scenes, drawn by threads of memory.
In time she rolled onto her side and levered herself up. She passed around the far end of Blade Hall, slipping along the perimeter of the courtyard before Heart Hall. Moving between moonshadows she skirted the buildings, placing each foot with the caution of one born to the Grey.
Novice Nona. A soft voice at her shoulder. You smell of man-sweat.
Nona turned, unable to see anyone in the darkness behind her. And you smell of apples, sister. One red Apple, to be more precise.
Then our sins are evenly matched. The shadows melted from Sister Kettle and she stepped forward with a half-smile.
Perhaps. Nona grinned. But I earned mine in front of an audience
Well, thats novel. Kettle widened both eyes and her smile.
In a ring at the Caltess.
No Regol tonight? Kettle frowned.
Thats a habit I should discard, Nona said. This one, I should keep on. She patted her garment. Ill be taking a nuns vows soon. If they dont mean more to me than the promises novices make then I shouldnt say them.
There are other ways to serve. Kettle pursed her lips. You dont have to stay. Nor do you have to be perfect. But you do have to go to bed. She pointed.
Nona nodded. Bed sounds good. A bath would be good too. But I would probably fall asleep and drown. She shrugged and turned to go.
Watch out for Joeli. Hissed at her back.
Nona approached the dormitories. She examined the main door before opening it and entering the hall beyond. A sleepy novice emerged from the Red dorm, lantern in hand, and passed her without looking up, bound for the Necessary. Nona moved on, climbing the stairs to the Holy floor at the top of the building.
She studied the door to her dorm more closely than she had the main one. Defocusing her sight, she picked out a glowing thread laid across the floor just in front of the door, another looping the handle, both veering off at strange angles to the world. They were trip-threads most likely, set to warn Joeli of her comings and goings, but there could be more to them. Some threads could cut you, others could just make it hurt as much as if they had cut you, others could wreak more complex damage, or adhere and trail out behind you, providing information to anyone holding them closer to where they joined the Path. How many of those tricks Joeli had mastered, Nona couldnt say, except that she had definitely used both trip-threads and pain-threads in the past. Nonas own talents still lagged behind, but not so far as they once had.
Nona removed the threads, pushing them temporarily out of alignment with the world. They would return shortly and appear untouched. She saw the third thread just as she reached for the door handle, gossamer thin, turning virulent green as she brought it into focus. Something new and unfriendly. Fortunately it too gave way when she worked to remove it from her path, though it scalded her fingertips before it vanished.
A moment later Nona entered the dorm. Almost half the top floor was given over to individual study rooms. The Holy Class novices slept in a long hall not much bigger than the one given over to the novices in Red Class. The girls were not yet trusted with the privacy of a nuns cell, but the class code was to overlook each others indiscretions, and Wheel would undoubtedly have apoplexy were she to watch a typical evening unfold.
Nona moved silently down the row of beds, her eyes returning several times to the long curves beneath Joelis blankets. The abbess had been forced to accept the girls return a year earlier as part of the emperors efforts at reconciliation and unity after the events at Sherzals palace. Lord Namsis had secured his daughters re-entry by having her submit to the Inquisition. The interrogator had been armed with one of Sister Apples bitter little truth pills. To the astonishment of everyone who knew her Joeli had affirmed her innocence with a black tongue. She had used her thread-work against Darla and Regol only with the intention of scaring them into retreat, hoping to end the bloodshed that way.
Nona slipped into her bed, still watching Joeli in the dim glow of the night-lantern. Her own thought was that Lord Namsis had paid an Academy man, a quantal thread-worker, to undertake the delicate task of altering Joelis memories. The girl now believed her own story and hadnt lied, even though what she said was not true.
In the warmth of her blankets Nona released the breath she had been holding and surrendered to exhaustion. The next day would be a long one. Not only would she undergo her final Blade-test, she needed to steal the convents seal of office from the abbess. Neither task would be easy.
4
Three Years Earlier
The Escape
Nonas not going alone!
Correct, she is not going alone. Shes going with Zole. The abbess turned from dispensing brief advice to Nona and set a hand to Aras shoulder. We have a long road ahead of us, novice, charged with the protection of the emperors subjects, including many of his most powerful supporters, your own uncle among them. Would you leave us with a lone Grey Sister and a single Inquisition guard for protection? We will likely need someone among our number who can call on the power of the Path
Nona saw the anguish in Aras expression and tried to ease her mind. We have to bring two things back to Sweet Mercy to make it right again. Zole and I will bring the shipheart. Youll bring the abbess.
But Ara glanced up the curve of the road towards Zole, painted in violet light amid the darkness. Sherzal will send an army after you!
When we make it to the ice armies wont matter, Nona said.
Because the ice will kill you! Ara shook the abbesss hand from her shoulder, anguish on her face.
Zole was raised on the ice. Nona smiled. Youll be in more danger down on the plains than we will up there.
Also, Abbess Glass interjected. Consider that if Sherzal doesnt get the shipheart back she will very definitely find her alliance with the Scithrowl in tatters. And likely the Noi-Guin turned against her. As soon as the odds shift against recovering the heart Sherzal would be sensible to recall her forces to defend the Grand Pass against the Battle-Queens hordes. Its certainly what any sane person would do. My guess is that if you reach the ice she wont dare risk mounting further pursuit in any significant numbers.
There were no preparations to be made, no rations to be apportioned, no equipment save clothing to be dispersed. Nona stood ready, wrapped in Kettles coat. She was armed with a Noi-Guin sword, a knife, and eighteen throwing stars.
Kettle embraced her next. Its a hug, Nona, not spiders running down your back. Relax.
Nona tried to unstiffen, and smiled. Get the abbess home.
Ara hugged Nona next, her hunska quickness allowing her friend no escape. Come back to us, she breathed into Nonas ear. To me. She pressed some coins into her hand. This may help.
Kettle and Ara retreated, leaving Regol standing before her, looking almost nervous.
Careful on the ice. His old smile covered up any uncertainty.
I should watch for hoolas and ice-bears?
If you like. I just meant that its slippery. He turned to go. You should visit us at the Caltess when you get back. And walked off to rejoin the group. I know Denam misses you.
Nona watched as Abbess Glass, flanked on the drop-side by the Inquisition guard, Melkir, led the way down towards the main road and the long descent from the mountains. Ara brought up the rear, Regol by her side. Nona knew a moments jealousy. A day earlier she would have blamed it on Keot. She turned back towards Zole further up the track. In the distance the flames from Sherzals palace lit the slopes but seemed less vigorous than they had been.
Time to go, she said to nobody in particular: now that she had lost her devil, she lacked both an audience for her passing thoughts and a scapegoat for unworthy emotions. The peaks loomed somewhere above her in the darkness and an arduous journey lay ahead with only Zole for company.
Do not fall behind. Zole led the way, her gaze fixed upon the fractured rock before her.
Ill try to avoid falling in any direction. Nona snatched a cold breath and hauled herself up.
Kettles coat blunted the winds teeth. Other items of warm clothing had been recovered from two guests who made it into the carriage but thanks to arrows from Sherzals soldiers did not make it out again. She wore a dead mans shoes, a poor fit but better than bare feet on icy rock. Back on the road Nona had considered herself well wrapped. On the slopes, despite the strenuous climb, she found herself shivering each time they rested.
Nona kept a distance of no less than two to three yards while following Zole. If she came closer the beat of the shipheart started to vibrate through her bones and each thought threatened to coalesce into its own creature that would then run roughshod through her mind. Any further away and she lost the light.