Holy Sister (Book of the Ancestor 3)

The sun had risen and a cold wind had stripped away the smoke before the remaining sisters and novices of Sweet Mercy set off for the convent. Kettle was not with them for none of them had the heart to pull her from Apple’s side.

Nona had retrieved the shipheart from the fire-gutted mansion she had left it in, kicking away hot ashes to uncover it. She placed it in a leather sack and had it dragged behind them. The wounded rode in carts commandeered for the purpose by the high priest. The five miles to the Rock of Faith had never seemed so long.

‘Sister Rose will tend to them as well as any in the city can, and she will have more time for them.’ High Priest Nevis stood on the steps to see them off, looking as if he had gone without sleep for days. He had called Sister Oak over as the oldest surviving nun, but he called Nona with her and addressed his words to them both. ‘As longest-serving sister superior it will fall to Sister Rose to occupy the abbess’s house for now. She is a good woman and will be the first to say she lacks the fire necessary for the office. I will appoint a suitable replacement by and by when we have made an accounting of the dead and seen which sisters among the Red and Grey return to the Rock of Faith. Until such time Abbess Rose will need the counsel of her sisters.’ He waved them off. ‘May the Ancestor stand with you all.’

A messenger in Crucical’s green and gold passed their convoy of carts as they pulled away from the cathedral. By the grandeur of his uniform and bearing Nona judged him to be a personal emissary rather than a mere deliverer of scrolls sealed with the emperor’s stamp. He hurried past then retraced his steps, drawing up before Nona at the head of the group. He stood a touch taller than her and met her gaze with a narrow stare.

‘The emperor has commanded me to bring the novice Nona Grey before him. She has cursed black eyes and casts no shadow. Have you seen any such?’

‘Not recently.’ Nona seldom had use for mirrors. ‘I am Sister Cage.’

The messenger gave a curt nod. ‘If you see her tell her that her immediate presence is commanded before the throne.’ He hurried off towards the cathedral.

‘The emperor wants you, Nona!’ Ara managed a smile. ‘You’re in demand!’

‘Why didn’t you go?’ Jula asked.

‘I will,’ Nona said. ‘But not now. We’ve got more important duties first.’ She paused. ‘What confuses me is how he didn’t recognize me by my eyes …’

‘You don’t know yet?’ Ruli blinked. ‘I thought I said something … But, no … Maybe we were too busy.’

‘Know what?’ Nona raised her hands to her eyes, confused.

‘They changed when Zole healed us,’ Ara said. ‘She must have repaired the damage that that novice-made black cure did to you. I thought you knew …’

‘What confuses me,’ Clera said, leaning forward, ‘is how he didn’t notice that you don’t ha— Nona! You have a shadow!’

‘I know.’ Nona allowed herself a faint smile and raised her hand to track her shadow across the street. ‘It was drawn into the Sweet Mercy shipheart when I sent it after Yisht.’ She wiggled her fingers and watched her shadow dance, anchoring her in the world. ‘I took it back.’

By noon they arrived at the convent. Nona had feared to find it in ruins but it seemed that after their master’s death Lano Tacsis’s men had had little interest in earning themselves more trouble with the Church and the Ancestor.

Sister Rose was in the sanatorium treating half a dozen injured junior novices. Three others had died. When they told her she was to be abbess, Rose shook her head and returned to changing dressings, tears rolling over her cheeks. ‘I haven’t time for that nonsense. Not at all. Too much to do here.’ With infinite care she helped a novice who was struggling to turn and indicated to her assistant, a tiny child that Nona couldn’t imagine old enough for the habit, to take water to another girl.

In the end Ara brought one of the spare croziers out to the sanatorium and hung it above the door since Rose wouldn’t move to the big house.

Much later Nona found herself alone by the stairs down to the Shade classroom. Apple would never climb them again. It hurt Nona’s heart to know it, a hurt that would stay with her, part of who she was now, like the wound Abbess Glass’s death left upon her and that she would wear through all her days. Some lessons must be written in scars, Sister Tallow had said. Nona would miss her too.

On the last day that Abbess Glass had spent with them she had told Nona many things. Secrets about the future and about the past. At last she had fallen quiet, half smiling, half sad. All leaves must fall in time, she had said. The lives we lived fall away from us, but something remains, something that is part of the tree.

Glass had been sick when she laid her plans months before her death. She had met in secret with Nona and Zole on their separate returns and even then she had said that she did not expect to see the seeds she was planting come to flower.

‘To sow knowing that you will not reap is an old kind of love, and love has always been the best key for unlocking the future.’ The abbess had set her hands upon theirs. ‘You, my dears, are both the Chosen One, but it’s only me who has chosen you. Each of you is a die cast against the odds. Zole dear, remember to hold on to what makes us love you. If you reach your journey’s end without that you will have gone nowhere. And, Nona, my fierce little Nona, remember mercy. Mercy for others in victory. Mercy for yourself too. You deserve happiness, child. Never forget it.’

Nona had a bar of the Shade gate in each hand and her forehead to the metal when a hand settled on her shoulder.

‘Ara …’

Her friend joined her at the gate and for a time they stood in each other’s silence. Ara’s left hand holding the same bar as Nona’s right, almost touching.

‘It’s hard to believe she’s gone,’ Ara whispered.

‘She’s not gone.’ Each of them could be speaking of so many shes, but Nona was thinking of Apple and how these stairs, this gate, would always lead to her.

‘Abbess Glass spent her thoughts on might-bes,’ Ara said. ‘I find myself thinking too often about might-have-beens.’ She turned her head to look at Nona. ‘It’s strange to see your eyes. As if you’ve been hiding from me all these years.’

Nona opened her mouth to speak but another, darker shadow fell across her, one she could only feel and not see. ‘Kettle is coming back.’ Nona took her hands from the bars. ‘I have to go to her.’

The sun was falling as Nona reached the Seren Way and began to descend from the convent’s heights. Nona felt Kettle’s approach stop and the muted echoes of her grief became a tolling along their thread-bond, like the lament of a great and hollow bell. She carried on down, searching for her friend, and found her lying crumpled at the base of the Rock as if she had fallen from the windows of the Shade classroom. Kettle had dropped only from her feet though and rose like a broken doll when Nona pulled her into an embrace.

‘She was my life, Nona.’

Nona held her tight. ‘You have sisters. You’re not alone.’ They wept then, the river of Kettle’s sorrow washing through Nona until at last they could breathe again and Nona led her sister up the winding steepness of the Seren Way to Sweet Mercy.