Red Sister (Book of the Ancestor 1)

By now half a dozen nuns watched from the doorway of the Ancestor’s dome, Sister Wheel among them, having paused on her return to Spirit class with wire-cane in hand.

The nine guardsmen arrayed themselves before Abbess Glass’s steps and the old man dismounted from his giant horse. He held himself with a degree of confidence and dignity that would put Grey Stephen to shame. Nona wondered if he were a lord or some close relation to the emperor. A thick circlet of twisted gold strands held a white mane from his patrician’s face. He regarded the abbess from beneath neatly trimmed eyebrows, channelling a slight air of distaste down either side of a prominent and angular nose.

‘Those are quite the grandest city guardsmen I’ve ever seen,’ Abbess Glass murmured. ‘I smell money here, and lots of it.’

The younger man came forward clutching a heavy book bound in black leather. Nona had watched him tugging it from the mule’s saddlebag.

‘Judge Irvone Galamsis offers the Abbess of Sweet Mercy Convent his greetings and felicitations on this the birthday of Emperor Hedral Antsis, fourth of his name.’

Abbess Glass bent towards Nona, her voice low and carrying a smile. ‘Almost every day is the birthday of some emperor or other if you dig deep enough.’ With a grunt she got to her feet, using her crozier to lever herself up. ‘Irvone, a delight to see you again. Will you be staying to dinner? The novices would be so excited! A judge visiting us, and not just some common sort but one third of the highest jury in the land!’

‘I’ve come for the girl, abbess. I don’t plan to stay long.’

‘Girl? We have lots of those here, Irvone. I’m charged to look after them, body and soul.’

‘The convicted murderer that you helped abscond from Harriton prison two days ago.’

‘Convicted?’ The abbess rubbed her chin. ‘There was a trial? Or was a rope merely purchased for her?’

Judge Irvone snapped his fingers and the young man hefted up his book, opening it to a page marked with a silk ribbon. He read from it, his voice precisely measured. ‘In the ruling of Judge Maker, esteemed of the high court: Within the sound of the palace bells a stateless person may be convicted by any prison official of more than three years’ service on the evidence of five or more eyewitnesses of good standing. YoM 3417.’

The golden head of the abbess’s staff made slow revolutions. ‘Such a new cover for such an old book, judge. Year of the Moon 3417? Your law predates this convent. It predates most of Verity! And I doubt if it has been used in the time these buildings have stood here.’

‘Even so, Warden James passed sentence upon the girl when she arrived at Harriton.’ The judge looked towards the convent. ‘If you would be so good as to have the child brought out – that would be preferable to a search of the premises.’

Nona realized with a start that none of the men knew that she was the one they were looking for.

‘Of course.’ The abbess nodded. ‘Of course, I would be glad to help. But it seems to me that even in these modern times, and even with a law so old … would one not require someone to have been murdered in order to hang another person for murder? Or has poor Raymel gone to his accounting with the Ancestor?’

The judge waved a bored hand at his assistant who turned to another page marked with a length of silk. ‘YoM 3702, Judge Arc Leensis rules that in cases of attempted murder the perpetrator may hang for murder if the original conviction were based upon the reasonable belief that the victim would die.’

‘Thuran Tacsis must have paid out a considerable weight of gold to have your clerks scouring the law books with such diligence, Irvone.’

‘What man would not want justice for his son?’ The judge inclined his head, apparently solemn and thoughtful. Nona wondered if he had ever met Raymel Tacsis. ‘Lord Tacsis is prepared to overlook your interference with the due execution of the law, Abbess Glass, and out of respect for the church I do not propose to press the case on behalf of the city. However, you would be well advised to place the murderer known as Nona Reeve into my custody without delay.’

Nona ground her teeth tight against the urge to spit. Partnis Reeve had given her nothing she wanted to keep, his name least of all.

‘I would never disobey the high court, Irvone.’ Abbess Glass stopped turning her crozier. The judge snorted. Abbess Glass waited a moment then continued. ‘But—’

‘Ha!’ The judge shook his head.

‘But Nona is now a novice at the convent and as such any and all misdemeanours, past and present, fall under the jurisdiction of church law. As do mine. I’m sorry that you’ve had a wasted trip. You really should stay for dinner, the girls would be delighted—’

The big black book of laws hit the ground with a resounding thump. ‘That’s her, isn’t it?’ The young assistant advanced towards the steps, finger pointing at Nona. ‘That’s the little bitch who did it!’

‘Lano …’ The judge shook his head, more in resignation than anger. ‘I told you you should not have come.’

Nona stared at him, seeing the man for the first time and finding something familiar in the narrow cast of his features, perhaps the pale fury in his eyes or the slant of his lips.

‘He would have killed Saida!’ The anger of that moment in the Caltess returned to Nona in an instant, as if it had never left. ‘He deser—’

Lano Tacsis moved faster than anyone Nona had ever seen, a blur of dark robes, twisting past Sister Flint even as she reached for him with reflexes to shame a cave viper. Nona barely had time to throw up her hands in front of the fingers reaching to seize her by the throat. A moment later Lano was being hauled backward, a scream of anger choked off by Sister Flint’s slim arm fastened about his neck.

‘What?’ Abbess Glass, locked into the moment of the attack, now found her voice, only realizing there had been an assault as the perpetrator was pulled away. ‘Nona! Are you hurt?’

Nona stared up at the abbess’s concern. ‘No.’

‘Your hands!’

Nona raised them, both dripping crimson. There was no pain.

‘The bitch cut me! That little gutterling actually cut me!’ Lano, thrown back into the arms of the closest guardsmen, clutched one hand with the other, blood pulsing between his fingers. ‘Arrest her!’

Other nuns now stood between the judge’s men and the abbess, Sisters Kettle and Apple flanking Sister Flint along with two Nona didn’t know.

‘Lano Tacsis?’ Abbess Glass took a step forward. ‘Does your father know that you’re here, young man?’

Lano snarled and took a step forward, but slowly enough to allow the guardsmen to hold him back.

‘I see your time at the Tetragode has been well spent. Your disguise and turn of speed were both admirable.’ The abbess looked to Judge Irvone, sighed, and returned her gaze to the young man before her. ‘It seems that both of Thuran Tacsis’s sons have yet to learn that beating little girls is not a pastime that can be pursued entirely without consequence … I do have a number of older girls here who would be happy to teach you that lesson if you care to make a challenge within the Blade Hall?’

‘You don’t scare me, Shella Yammal!’ Lano spat the words, white-faced in fury, hectic patches of red around his eyes. ‘Yes, I know your line and your family, old woman. My father could buy this rock from under your miserable collection of old hags and rejects.’