by A. G. Henley
By whom? I wonder. Other than the group that attacked us, and the sick ones, we haven’t seen a soul. Are these women so full of themselves?
“I will train you, supervise your chores, and teach you our ways,” Grimma says. “Until you are initiated, you will be under constant watch. You may not travel about the Cloister without myself or another Sister as escort.” She pauses. “I understand you are here for your daughters, but for your own sakes, do as you’re told. Disobedience and dissent are not tolerated. Do you understand?”
An icy chill shivers through me—disobedience and dissent is all I’ve been doing lately—but I agree.
Grimma claps her hands together. “Fine. I’ll take you by the laundry to get fresh linens, and then on to your quarters. Come along.”
Amarina holds my elbow to guide me, following our trainer’s sturdy steps.
“We take our meals in the great hall,” Grimma says, “where we just were. The kitchens are behind the hall—the long, low building there. The laundry is down the hill ahead of us. You can see it below, in the trees, with the wash buckets and drying lines outside.”
As we walk downhill, I catch the buzzing sound again, behind us and to our right. Curiosity gets the best of me. I hope Grimma doesn’t mind questions.
“What is that sound?” I ask.
“Our jewel wasp enclosure.” Her voice holds an affectionate note. “We tend the wasps there, minding their nests, in order to extract their venom.”
A sick feeling grips me. “Why?”
“Ah, fascinating stuff, really. In nature, the female jewel wasp uses her venom to paralyze beetles. Although the beetle can move independently, it won’t. The venom gives control of the beetle’s body to the wasp. It will follow her anywhere.”
Grimma stops her explanation to greet someone, and then goes on.
“When the point of a knife or spear is dipped in a concentrated amount of the venom and applied to particular parts of the neck, it gives us that same power over humans.”
The sting. That Sister pricked me with wasp venom? My mouth curls with disgust as I touch the almost healed puncture wound on my neck.
“What happens to the beetle?” Kai asks.
“It follows the wasp, happily, to her burrow, where she lays an egg inside its body. The larva feeds on the beetle’s flesh, eventually killing it.”
Amarina and I make identical noises of disgust.
“An unpleasant business to be sure," Grimma says, "but the survival of the wasp’s young is secured.”
“At the expense of another life,” I say.
“The life of a beetle is not worthy of concern.”
What about human lives? Do the Sisters feel the same about them?
We reach the bottom of the hill and move into a darker area, as if we’re walking under the branches of trees. The light and shadow within the Cloister are difficult for me to interpret, maybe because of the drifting smoke from the Eternal Flames.
I know we’ve come to the laundry by the fresh scent of lavender flower soap. I reach to find the building. The walls seem to be constructed with rocks, like the library in the old village near Koolkuna. Is the Cloister as old?
“Our homes are there, among the powder trees," Grimma says.
“Powder?” I murmur to Amarina.
“The white trees,” she answers.
Grimma must have overheard. “Powder trees thrive along the coast. In full winter, when they are bare, they look as if they are covered in snow. They are what gave the Shivering Sea its name. Now then, if you look through that gap in the trees, you can see the training grounds. You’ll be spending plenty of time there. The gardens are laid out in levels up the side of the mountain at the north end of the Cloister. The design reduces wind erosion and retains moisture.” She sounds proud of the Sisters’ ingenuity.
She leads us inside the cool confines of the laundry, loading us up with a set of clothes and bed linens, including a soft sheath that she tells us is to wear while sleeping. The cloth they use feels thick and of good quality. As we leave, I catch a barely audible sound from somewhere beyond the laundry. It echoes in the trees for a moment. I stop mid-stride, listening.
“What, Mirii?” Amarina asks.
“I heard children’s voices.”
She grips my elbow. “Where?”
I point.
“Our daughters have their own quarters,” Grimma says. “Not to worry, they are well guarded and protected.”
That’s exactly what worries me.
“Why are they kept apart?” Amarina voice is tense.
Grimma hesitates. “The Teachers require their full attention to gift them with the training and knowledge they need to join us as full-fledged Sisters one day. It is the way we do things here, and you’d best accept it.”
“What about the boys?” I ask.
“Boys have no place in the Cloister,” Grimma says.
“What does that mean? What will happen to the boys taken from our village?”
She doesn’t answer. I guess she won’t share all the Sisters’ secrets in the first hour. But if boys have no place in the Cloister, then why were they kidnapped—Gathered, as the Sisters call it—from Koolkuna at all?
We walk back up the hill, this time in the direction of the wall that must border the sea. The salty breeze slaps my face again at the top. I hurry past the furious noise of the jewel wasps.
Grimma leads us into another building a minute later. Steps rise to the door here, too, although not so many as at the great hall. We move inside, and I catch the distinctive smell of vinegar beneath the constant, caustic scent of the Eternal Flames. Marj cleaned everything with the stuff.
“Your quarters,” Grimma says. “I will leave you here. Normally, you’ll spend the afternoon at your chores, but I’ll give you this time to rest and prepare yourselves for the start of your training tomorrow. Bread and water are on the table. A well outside provides water for washing up. You are free to spend your time as you choose until our evening meal, so long as you stay here. Guards are posted outside. If you need something, let them know." She pauses. "And now, I recommend catching up on your sleep.”
She laughs, a gruff but not unpleasant sound, before closing the door firmly behind her.
After she goes, the others walk around the room, their feet falling on what sounds like stone floors again.
“At least it is clean and tidy,” Amarina says.
Kai grunts. She’s barely said a word since she agreed to come to the Cloister. Why did she come? And why did she react the way she did when the Sisters were deciding our fate? I sigh. Kai is a puzzle I don’t seem to be able to solve. Or get rid of.
I reach behind me to find the nearest wall, also made of stone, and then make my way methodically around the room, committing the position of any furniture I come across to memory so I don’t run into it later.
Based on the echoing sound of our voices, the space is larger than any shelter at home or even in Koolkuna. I discover a hefty round table and chairs, a set of well-built wooden shelves that stretches far above my head, and a broad opening in the wall that leaves what smells and tastes like soot on my fingers. It’s dark and cold now, but it seems as if fires might be lit inside it. Interesting—and smart.
A group of chairs sits in front of the opening. The chairs have soft coverings that I guess are filled with bird feathers; I find a tiny one when I run my hand across the seat. The shelves hold a few pots, jars, and baskets made of clay or woven wood. One basket has an assortment of smooth rocks in it. The bottom shelf contains a neat stack of chopped wood.
“Mirii, our beds are in here,” Amarina calls. “Bring your linens, and I’ll help you make yours.”
Feeling my way along the wall toward her voice, I find a wood-framed doorway to another room. Inside, I run my knee into some kind of pallet—long and low with a lumpy but soft covering. After a week of sleeping with a thin bedroll on the hard-packed earth, this is going to be a dream. We make up my pallet, and I
lay my new set of clothes and bedclothes on it.
“They’ve brought our packs,” Amarina says. She puts mine in my hands.
I dive into it.
“They took the weapons out,” Kai says.
At least I still have my odds and ends, the little things I brought to remind me of home… wherever that is now. But I’ve lost Aloe’s cane—again. I sigh and sink onto my bed.
“I’m taking Grimma’s advice and getting some sleep,” Kai says. “So be quiet.”
I turn toward Amarina—away from Kai—and make a face.
“Come have some refreshment with me?” Amarina asks.
I follow the walls back to the front. Only two rooms then, but generously sized. At the table, I feel for the bread and water. Amarina carves the loaf while I pour, and we sit in the group of chairs beside the hole in the wall.
The bread is thick, textured and hearty, with a grainy flavor. I tear in. We haven’t had much to eat since the possum stew breakfast yesterday morning. Good bread and water goes a long way toward settling my stomach.
Our quarters are quiet. The stone walls block outdoor noise a little too well; I can’t hear much of anything outside. Kai’s breaths stretch out, becoming even, as she falls asleep in the other room.
“I’m glad you’re here, Amarina,” I say, keeping my voice down.
“You, as well.”
I take stock of Kai’s breathing again. Her breath catches a little in a soft snore.
“Why do you think she came?”
The older woman is silent for a moment. “She probably has her own reasons. She has a history with the Sisters, after all.”
Thinking about what Kai might remember from the time she spent here as a girl, what she might not be telling us about the Cloister and the Sisters, makes me anxious.
Finishing my bread and water, I set my cup on the floor. “I hope they let us be with the children soon.”
“To see Ellin is only wish,” she says. The pain and hope in her voice tears at my heart.
I reach for her hand. “We’ve made it this far. I don’t know what we’ll do next, but it’s a start.”
Amarina starts to speak, but the front door squeals open, interrupting her. Someone walks through the door, and I turn that way.
“Fennel? Amarina? How did you get here?”
Chapter Eighteen
Frost. The next moment, the three of us are tangled together in a ball of arms, legs, and bodies. She bubbles over with questions about how we found the Cloister, how we got inside, how we can escape.
I stiffen. “Shh… are there any Sisters around?”
She whispers. “One of them escorted me from the healer’s home, but she stayed outside.”
“Healer? Are you okay?”
“She wanted to check me and my hatchling. We’re healthy.”
Hatchling. Usually the word makes me laugh, but I’ve grown fond of it now.
Amarina interrupts. “Frost, I’m very glad to see you and to know you’re well. But my daughter, Ellin, and the other children… are they all right?” Her voice trembles.
“The Sisters took them somewhere else when we arrived last evening, but they're safe, I think. Grimma says I’m not allowed to be with them anymore.” She sways a little in our arms. “Oh, I need to sit down.”
We help her lower herself into a chair with a small moan; I hover in case she needs help.
“I’ve been on my feet all morning,” she says. “I’m worn out with all the walking the last few days. And it’s… it’s so good to see familiar faces.” She sounds like she might cry, too.
Amarina hurries back over to the table, and water sloshes into a new cup. I sit down in the chair beside Frost, my hand on her arm. Amarina returns, settling in on her other side, and Frost drinks deeply.
“That’s better,” she says. “This whole thing feels like a dream. Or a nightmare.” She draws a quivering breath. “I was minding Thrush while Moon took a nap. Arika and some children came by and asked if we would help gather flowers for your ceremony, Fennel. Thrush wanted to make you a flower necklace. He still feels awful, you know, for telling Breeze you were in the trees when the fire was set back home. He thinks… what happened to your brother… was his fault.”
Guilt and remorse—I’m all too familiar with those twin demons of torment. Poor Thrush. Of course Eland’s death wasn’t his fault. What he told Peree’s grandmother was a single pebble that rolled from a great height, starting an avalanche of misery. But it was only a pebble.
After a moment, Frost goes on. “We were rushing, our arms full of flowers, trying to get back to the village in time. I never saw the Sisters. I only felt the sting. Do you know what that is? Did you see—hear—the wasps outside? Nasty little beasts.”
“Grimma explained,” Amarina says.
Frost shivers under my hand. “Well, the sting was how the Gatherers kept us all quiet. I swear there was nothing I could do when the Sisters attacked. I wanted to help the children, but I couldn’t even help myself.”
“I understand, believe me,” I say. “A Sister stayed behind and stung me, too, when we were trying to catch up with you all. They warned us not to follow you.”
“None of this was your fault," Amarina agrees. Bitterness colors her voice.
“One of them hit Arika on the head with the hilt of her knife,” Frost says. “She fell and didn’t move. Is she okay? I mean, probably not, because Kora and Darel were Gathered, but—?”
“She survived,” Amarina says.
“I’m glad,” Frost says. “I liked her.” She takes another drink of water. “The journey here was hard, especially on the children, but they made it. The last I saw of Ellin, Kora, and the others, they were tired, but okay.”
Amarina gives thanks in the first language.
“And the boys?” I ask.
“They took them with the girls. I don’t know where they are now.”
I bite my lip. Finding where the children are kept is our first order of business.
“Are there other Initiates?” Amarina asks.
“Only me. And now you two, I guess. Grimma said the girls train with her when they come of age. And other women from outside want to join the Cloister sometimes.”
“They won’t have us for long,” I say.
There I go, making promises I may not be able to keep.
“What will we do?” Frost asks.
“To be honest, I’m not sure,” I say. “Getting in here was the first step. Now we need a plan to collect the children and escape.”
“It won’t be easy,” she says. “Grimma or another Sister stayed with me every minute today, except when I was in here. There are guards outside, guards on the walls, and guards all around the inside of the compound. They’re everywhere.”
“They’re already suspicious of us, too,” I say. “I think they might just feel confident that we can’t do them much harm, even from the inside. So they're taking a chance.”
Frost sniffles. “When I left my people for Moray, I thought I was going to a… a better place. I never thought I’d end up… somewhere like this…”
She gasps, and tears flow like the Restless River was pent-up inside her.
“I didn’t think… anyone… would come for me. The children, maybe, but not me!”
Amarina and I put our arms around her. Emotions swirl and crash inside of me as she sobs. I didn’t speak to Frost very often in Koolkuna. She was usually with the brothers, which meant I wasn’t itching to spend time with her.
But I remember her spunk the night she rescued Eland and me from her father, Osprey, in the trees after the fire. She had the courage to cross her father, and she knew what she wanted. Unfortunately, that was Moray. Now she sounds like any pregnant sixteen-year-old girl who’s far away from anyone or anything she knows probably should sound: scared.
As I listen to Frost, all of my own fears threaten to overcome me. My chin wobbles, and tears fill my eyes. Before I know it, I’m sobbing, and then, Amarina is,
too. We huddle together.
I rarely give myself permission to cry, or even to feel sorry for myself. Tears and self-pity are usually unannounced visitors at my doorstep—unwelcome, yet unable to be turned away. My model of strength, Aloe, never cried. I’ve always equated it with weakness, and she made it quite clear that weakness wasn’t an option for anyone growing up in the harsh forest with the Lofties and the Scourge. Especially anyone Sightless. But Amarina is as strong as Aloe, yet here she is weeping alongside us.
As I’ve been slowly but steadily realizing over the last few months, I don’t have all the same merits my mother did… or the same faults. I don’t need to be exactly like her. I don’t even know that being like her is what she would want for me, or what I want anymore.
The three of us stay like that, leaning in together, united in tears. It feels odd—and strangely good—to allow myself to fall apart, without judgment. And like a thunderstorm passing over the forest, our sobs eventually turn to steady, gentle tears, then to snuffling, then to silence. I mop my face with my sleeve, wishing I had something to wipe my nose with; it’s dripping. Frost presses a dry cloth into my hand, and I clean myself up.
Amarina laughs, weak and watery. “Mirii and I are a fine pair of heroes, are we not? We come to free you and the children and collapse in your arms in tears instead.”
“I don’t care,” Frost says. “I’m just glad you’re here.”
“What’s going on?” Kai asks from the doorway to the other room, her voice sleepy and annoyed. “Are you… crying?”
Frost makes a pleased sound. “Kaiya? I didn’t know you came, too!”
“Surprise,” she mutters. “Can you all please be quiet? I’m sleeping.”
I shake my head as she shuffles back to bed.
“Moray and his brothers, and Derain, Bear, and Peree are outside the walls waiting to hear from us,” I tell Frost in a lower voice. “They’ll help us get out of here if they can.”
I’ve already decided I’ll wait to deliver Conda’s message until she and I are alone.
“Moray’s here?” Frost sounds pleased.
