Red Sister (Book of the Ancestor 1)

The underside of the dome lay black and seeded with stars in blood crystal. Here and there the stars took on a paler shade and near the highest point the Hope lay in sparkling white quartz. The skyscape held Nona’s gaze a while but the statue at the centre soon captured her attention: a human figure, perhaps twenty feet of gleaming gold. Even if it were gold leaf over stone the wealth it wore could purchase a lifetime’s luxury. The figure lacked detail. Was it a man? A woman? This was the Ancestor that Sister Wheel had described as a joining of everyone who had ever lived, an ideal in which the best parts of humanity fused into a joyous whole.

As the voices stilled behind her Nona found that, although she was still staring towards the statue, she was not staring at it, but past it. What drew her, and had pulled at her ever so faintly since her first night at the convent, sleeping in a nun’s cell, was the foyer at the far side, opposite the one she had entered by. Something there – something beyond the dark marble pillars – demanded her attention, just as it had that first night when Sister Apple led her along the corridor between the convent’s sleeping nuns. A fullness. An otherness. A something.

‘Hey!’ Clera jabbed Nona’s ribs then pulled her arm to turn her round. ‘You’re missing it!’

The soldiers stood in a larger perimeter centred on Sherzal, now joined by High Priest Nevis, the abbess, and a girl of perhaps twelve or thirteen. The emperor’s sister had shed her bearskin to reveal a flowing crimson gown edged with silver. The girl, dark-haired and with the flat cheekbones of the ice-tribes, wore a close approximation of the blade-habit, though it too was crimson with silver worked about the collar and had a belt of silver links.

‘Who does she think she is?’ Clera whispered. ‘A Red Sister?’

On Clera’s far side Ghena snorted.

‘She’s whoever Sherzal says she is,’ Ara hissed. ‘You don’t want to cross any Lansis, but Sherzal’s the worst of them. Three years ago she had Seema Bresis burned alive as a heretic because the woman made a joke about her hair at the Tacsis’s grand ball. They say she owns half the inquisition.’

‘… welcome the emperor’s sister, honourable Sherzal, to Sweet Mercy …’ The high priest droned out his introduction. ‘… for Abbess Glass to say a few words.’ He turned with apparent relief to the abbess.

Abbess Glass made her speech well with ample thanks for the opportunity to show such a high personage around the convent temporarily in her humble charge. She spoke of the famed piety and generosity of the Lancis line and of how the empire had bloomed under Crucical’s reign. She spoke until the novices began to shuffle from one foot to the other, and even the nuns’ patient smiles grew fixed.

‘I would just ask her what she wants,’ Nona whispered.

‘Which is why you’ll be a warrior rather than an abbess,’ Ara replied.

‘Why won’t she shut up?’ Clera hugged her belly. ‘Breakfast will think I don’t love it any more.’

Jula shushed everyone: Abbess Glass was coming to the bit where there was nothing left but for the person to say what they wanted.

‘… let us know how we can be of service to you, honourable Sherzal.’

‘Thank you, abbess.’ Sherzal offered a broad smile, all red painted lips and a bright line that looked too white to be teeth. ‘High Priest.’ She nodded to Nevis, the mass of dark red curls bouncing slightly about her head. She looked to be in her thirties, perhaps of an age with Sister Apple, almost beautiful but with each feature slightly too exaggerated. An animated face, full of vicious good humour. ‘I don’t intend to remain long. I’ll say a prayer of course. It would be rude not to. After all my great-great-grand-uncle built the place, did he not? Or was it great-great-great? One of the Persuses, anyway.

‘You’ll take me around, won’t you, Nevis?’ She slipped a bare white arm through the high priest’s. ‘I must confess first that I did have an ulterior motive for my visit … Not being blessed by the Ancestor with children I have taken young Zole here under my wing.’ Sherzal indicated the girl in the red habit and leaned her head in towards the high priest’s. She lowered her voice but by accident of the dome’s acoustics or by her own design she remained audible. ‘The child was the only survivor from the town of Ytis after the Scithrowl incursion back in ’09. I’ve taken her on as my ward.’ She rotated the high priest to face Abbess Glass and continued at more regal volume. ‘I’ve had Zole tutored and trained extensively by a wide range of experts, including Safira, who benefited from eight years of study at this very convent. I think though that the only place where she can truly finish her education to the highest of standards is right here. I’m told that Grey Class would be best suited to her current skills.’

Abbess Glass’s smile twitched, just for a fraction of a moment, but Nona saw it. ‘I’m so sorry but that is of course quite imposs—’

‘Abbess.’ High Priest Nevis tilted his head back towards the foyer. ‘I’m sure these are matters best discussed in your study, with perhaps a glass of Sweet Mercy’s finest vintage to fight the day’s chill. It has been a long and … bracing … journey up from Verity.’

Sherzal’s smile grew wider than Nona had thought possible, showing more teeth than it seemed likely a person could own. ‘We’ll leave Zole with her class, shall we? Your nuns can have a chance to assess her talents.’

Abbess Glass frowned and opened her mouth, but the high priest spoke first. ‘Of course, an excellent idea.’ He bowed slightly and gestured back towards the doors. ‘I think we can dare the short trip to the abbess’s house now.’

The abbess’s mask showed no fractures this time. ‘Of course.’ Just a hint of stiffness in her voice. ‘Novices, return to your classes. The emperor’s sister may stop by to view proceedings before she leaves.’

Sherzal strode towards the main door, with High Priest Nevis – stout and a touch shorter than her – struggling to catch up. Abbess Glass stared after them as the soldiers followed in two files. A moment later she threw up her hands, motioned Sister Tallow towards Zole, and hastened after the emperor’s sister.

25

‘It seems I will be having the pleasure of your company in Blade Hall this morning after all, Grey Class.’ Sister Tallow’s hard stare killed the wave of chatter rising in the wake of the visitors departing the dome. ‘You still have time for breakfast – at least if you run and manage not to break your legs on the ice. Zole will go with you. Alata, you can watch over her. Go! Don’t be late.’

Grey Class’s exit began a general rush for the refectory. Clera was first through the doors, skidding to a halt at the head of Grey table. Ara, Zole, and Ketti found their seats a heartbeat later, Nona coming up behind. Within moments the hall around them filled with novices scrambling for chairs, reaching for plates, and trying to push food into mouths faster than words came out of them. Nona sat with Ara on her right and Zole to her left, until Alata pushed their chairs apart and slid herself between Nona and the new girl.

‘Safira was expelled from the convent.’

Ara didn’t raise her voice or look up from her plate but somehow everyone at the table heard her.