Keot sank into her flesh. A moment later he had wrapped himself around her tongue. ‘But I must warn you, sister, that a sickness runs in me, and if you fashion yourself my enemy I will make a ruin of your life, for I am born of war.’
Joeli stared at Nona, eyes widening as if recognizing a promise rather than a threat. Then laughter burst from her in a clean, controlled peal, confidence pushing aside sensible fear. ‘What dramatics! “I am born of war”.’ Joeli mimicked Keot’s words accented heavily towards the peasants’ dialect. ‘You were born of a mud hut in the wilds.’ She glanced at her friends. ‘What a strange creature this novice is. I can see why Sister Hearth was keen to get her out of her class.’ She turned away.
Nona resisted the urge as Keot tried to make her arm rise to seize the girl’s neck. Instead she turned towards an empty bed with a snarl, angry at the lapse of concentration that had let Keot speak for her.
I will make a ruin of your life, Keot?
You should let me. That bitch means trouble for you.
Nona sat on the bed she had chosen, one of a pair too neat to belong to anyone. She pushed her small bag of possessions under the desk, spare clothes mainly. Joeli was already in animated conversation with three novices across the room, laughter and glances in her direction punctuating their conversation. A fourth girl returned from the stairwell with the sheets Nona had thrown.
If you kill one of them the others will respect you.
Shut up.
The door opened again and Zole walked in, arms folded across the bag she had brought from the Grey dormitory. When Nona had left the classroom where Sister Hearth had examined her merit certificates Zole had been waiting outside the door. They had both nodded acknowledgment but it wasn’t in the ice-triber’s nature to volunteer information.
‘Another one?’ Joeli raised her voice in complaint.
Zole’s face registered no expression as she scanned the room, eyes dark above broad cheekbones. She wore her face like a mask. Nona could count on one hand the times she had seen her smile or scowl.
‘I—’ Joeli seemed about to expand upon her displeasure but for once her supposedly forgotten aristocracy fell short, eclipsed by Zole’s celebrity. Novices rose on all sides along with an excited babble of voices as they moved to welcome the Argatha. Nona decided against shielding her, though she was sure Zole would rather see the novices knocked down than endure their attentions.
Zole made slow but sure progress towards the bed beside Nona, answering questions and flattery with curt nods. On the few occasions she did reply she offered only single words. Most of them ‘no’. Outside the convent it was far worse. Her secret had been uncovered just months after they had returned from the ranging. Some said Sherzal herself had spread the news, but whatever the truth all of Verity soon whispered that Zole was the four-blood spoken of in the Argatha prophecy, the Chosen One come to drive back the ice and bring salvation! And the rest of the empire knew within another month. Pilgrims came to sit in vigil beyond the pillars even on days when the abbess stationed a sister at the base of the Vinery Stair to tell them there was no chance of an audience with Novice Zole.
Zole reached the bed and drove the last couple of novices away with a glower. The Argatha prophecy had been a constant in Sister Wheel’s Spirit classes for almost three years now, and she had managed to infect a fair proportion of the convent with her zeal, including most of the novices. At least the ones who didn’t know Zole.
‘You’re making friends almost as quickly as I am.’ Nona stood and stripped off her habit.
Zole shrugged. ‘None of them are bleeding.’
Nona knelt to dig in her bag for her nightdress. Keot could sink from view for a few moments and knew enough not to be seen. Nona had explained to him that the nuns would seek to burn him out before throwing her from the convent – over a cliff if she were unlucky. Nobody tainted by a devil could stay in service to the Ancestor, even after the taint had been driven from them with hot irons. Sister Wheel’s lessons had left no room for doubt on that account.
‘Welcome to Mystic, shrimp.’ Darla came to the foot of Nona’s bed, somewhat comical in her tent of a nightdress, her arms, thick with muscle, straining out of short frilly sleeves. ‘Nice entrance.’
‘I do my best.’ Nona stepped out of her underskirts and pulled her own nightdress over her head as fast as possible. In Grey dorm they mocked her for being shy, but it was Keot who prompted the haste. Also she was shy.
‘She threatened to kill Joeli before she’d even reached her bed,’ Darla said to Zole. ‘And she didn’t even have a crowd trying to get in her way.’
Zole looked up from her bag, one hand wrapped around the carved tooth of some sea-monster. ‘Good. I do not like that Joeli.’
‘You don’t like anyone,’ Nona said.
Zole shrugged.
‘And besides, I didn’t threaten to kill her.’
‘“I will make a ruin of your life”,’ Darla quoted through a broad grin.
‘That’s maiming at best,’ Nona said. ‘And I seem to remember my welcome to Grey wasn’t too warm either.’
Darla kept her grin. ‘That was just a kicking. Joeli’s a whole lot more dangerous. A thread-worker can mess you up. And she doesn’t even need to do that. She has lots of friends. Too many novices in this class are thinking they might not take their vows, just go back to their families. And when you start to think like that you also start to think how helpful it is to have friends like the Namsis.’
‘A devil got my tongue,’ Nona said. ‘I should have held it more tightly.’
I spoke truth. The fortress of you is built of such moments, they are stones dropped into the well of your tomorrow.
Shut up.
Nona checked the bed for spiders and other welcome gifts then slipped under the blanket, yawning. Darla laughed. ‘Get your beauty sleep, Shield.’ She slapped the bed. ‘Long day tomorrow. You’re with the big girls now.’
All around the room novices were climbing beneath thick blankets, Alata sleeping alone until Leeni got her merit certificate in Spirit. Something Sister Wheel seemed to be taking particular pleasure in denying her. Joeli Namsis wore only her tawny skin to her bed, perhaps proud of her woman’s body. Nona looked away. She would miss Ara’s presence in the bed beside hers, close enough to reach out and touch. She yawned again and stared at the shadow-dance across the beams above her. At heart she was still a child of the Grey and no matter how warm a room might be she would never be at ease with nakedness, even in the bathhouse. Ruli had taught Nona the steam-weaving trick that she had first shown them at the sink-hole in the focus moon, and when possible Nona wore a robe of steam around the bath-pool. Keot hid across the sole of her left foot at such times.
Shadows are nothing. Talk to me instead.
Shut up.
You should thank me. Your enemies make you what you are. Your foes shape your life more than friends ever could. This Joeli is good practice.
Nona ignored Keot
