Holy Sister (Book of the Ancestor 3)

Abbess Wheel joined them for a while to read aloud from the Book of the Ancestor. She read that they were blessed, that eternity awaited them in the glory and goodness of the tree to which all born of a woman are connected and in which all are joined. Later she took to her knees beside Nona and prayed in silence.

When she left, the old woman set a hand to Nona’s shoulder to help her rise. ‘Pray, child.’ She stood and looked across the rows of bowed heads. ‘Your faith is a gift that keeps them strong.’

Nona remained on her knees and though many thoughts battled for her attention she ran through her head the litany of St Affid, whose day it was. Nuns in black prayed to either side of her, each with an incense stick smouldering before them. And towering over their heads the Ancestor stood, silent as ever, promising nothing but to watch their lives and wait for their arrival.

Though none of them had talked about it, it seemed that they might all be called to the Ancestor over the course of the next few days or weeks. The Scithrowl were no more merciful to the perceived heresies of the church than the Inquisition was to theirs. They might let the Dome of the Ancestor remain standing, but none of the sisters who tended it would outlive the fall of Verity.

‘A penny for your thoughts, Sister Cage.’ Sister Rose got to her knees beside Nona with some difficulty.

‘I was praying.’ Nona looked across at the shorter woman. It was odd to see Rosie out of the sanatorium.

‘We all say that.’ Sister Rose made the sign of the tree, a single finger tracing up from the taproot, all of them spreading for the branches. ‘But we’re always thinking of something.’

Nona sighed and nodded. ‘I was thinking of Zole.’ She had been thinking of what it would be like to be one with the Ancestor. The perfection that Zole and the ice-tribes sought in life both fascinated and repulsed her. It seemed like a kind of death, and life was for living. But the faults she clung to brought her pain as often as pleasure. She had been thinking of Regol too. Forbidden by her own oath now that she was a sister, a bride to the Ancestor. Regol, Markus, all men were her brothers now. Had Zole cut that particular weakness out of herself first? she wondered.

Bitel’s harsh chiming cut through Nona’s thoughts.

‘Twice in one day?’

‘I’ve been at this convent thirty-eight years,’ Sister Rose said. ‘I’ve never heard that bell sounded twice in a day.’

Nona helped the nun to her feet then took off running for the abbess’s steps.

A dozen church guards and a tall man in armour waited in front of the big house, the armoured man still mounted, his cloak of gold and green streaming in the wind.

‘The emperor’s colours!’ Ruli came up beside Nona. Nobody was trying to group novices into their classes. The chaos felt more unsettling even than the sight of church guards and the emperor’s man. The convent had always been a place of order.

Abbess Wheel came from the direction of Blade Hall, flanked by all the Red Sisters still residing at the convent. She climbed a few steps to get the elevation needed to see over her gathering flock.

‘We’re for it this time!’ Jula came up, panting. ‘Joeli must have told.’

Ara joined them. ‘I think there are bigger fish than us to fry today.’

Abbess Wheel stamped her crozier for attention, unnecessarily since every eye was turned her way.

‘Today is a glorious day!’ Wheel shouted above the freshening wind, her voice thick with the passion she usually reserved for reading the most dramatic passages of the Book of the Ancestor. ‘Today, sisters and novices, we get to stand before the Ark and defend our faith with blood and bone.’

‘Oh hells,’ Jula said weakly.

‘All senior novices and all nuns of a fighting age will accompany me to the Ark where we will join with our sisters in the Red under the direction of General Wensis.’ Wheel’s eyes gleamed and she gripped her crozier like a weapon, as if all her long years had been leading up to this moment and her life’s ambition had been to march her fellow nuns and the children in their care onto the battlefield. ‘Sister Iron will oversee the immediate equipping of our force from the convent stores.’ The old woman raised her arm. ‘Follow me!’ And she stalked off towards Blade Hall, followed by Sister Iron. She at least had the decency to look worried.

‘Oh joy.’ Sister Apple, somewhere behind Nona, in a dry tone. ‘A lifetime dedicated to the arts of discretion … and now I get to stand up in broad daylight and stop arrows for the emperor.’

‘I won’t let any arrow near you.’ Kettle, fierce and upset.

Any more of their conversation was lost beneath the general outbreak of worry and complaint as three-quarters of the nuns and half the novices surged after their abbess.

Nona emerged from Blade Hall wearing the oldest Red Sister habit she had ever seen. It must have been defying moths at the back of the storeroom for decades. Tatters trailed both sleeves, perhaps sliced free by the blows that cut the last occupant from their mortal remains and sent her to join the glory of the Ancestor.

At her hip hung Sister Tallow’s sword. The nun had pressed it on her, ignoring all protest. ‘The best artist needs the best brush.’

Sister Pail took Nona’s arm as she stepped through the crowd of novices comparing weapons outside the doors.

‘The abbess wants to see you.’ She gave a tug then started to jog away. ‘Hurry!’

Nona glanced back to see Ruli emerging, a Barrons-steel sword in her hand. Jula had a group of Mystic Class novices around her, admiring the long-hafted battle-axe with which she’d been issued. Ara had yet to come out.

‘Come on!’ A distant shout.

Nona set hand to hilt and ran. It had been a long time since she had worn a sword outside Blade Hall.

The corridors of the abbess’s house were crowded with nuns and church guards. Abbess Wheel was waiting for Nona in her office under the painted gaze of a score of previous occupants. Abbess Glass’s portrait hung over the door where Wheel’s gaze would rest each time she looked up from her papers. Nona looked up at it as she came through – a good likeness that removed a decade or more but caught with perfection the stare that seemed to be fixed on something distant only she could ever see.

‘I’ve been told to leave you behind,’ Wheel said without preamble. She held up a roll of parchment. ‘In the event that the sisterhood is called to the emperor’s aid it is fitting that the Shield be left to guard the younger novices.’ One bony finger moved to indicate the high priest’s seal. ‘He means “to guard the shipheart”, of course.’

Nona felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. ‘No! Abbess! I can’t stay here while all my sisters are facing the enemy on the battlefield. I won’t!’

Wheel raised her hand. ‘I must admit it seemed a strange instruction. To single out a particular novice, and even if High Priest Nevis had somehow anticipated your elevation to the sisterhood, to give such a significant duty to such a young nun.’ She rested her gaze on Nona. ‘I haven’t held a high opinion of you, Sister Cage, but you showed a wisdom beyond your years when you chose the Black. Truly, faith may reside in the most unlikely of receptacles …’ She looked at the parchment in her hand. ‘I sense politics at play here. Favours bought and sold. And if there’s one thing I despise almost as much as heresy it’s politics. Unfortunately, there seems to be no choice but to obey.’