by Brandon Sanderson, Mary Robinette Kowal, Dan Wells, Howard Tayler
With her words, something in the room changed. The councilor became very still. By the door, one of the guards shifted his hands on his spear.
The councilor leaned back in his chair slowly. “I will grant that you and your crew are not native speakers of Setish. That much of your story appears to be true. So it is possible that you mean something else by the word ‘priest.’”
Katin reviewed what she had said and worried the inside of her lip. She had taken the word from Old Fretian, so perhaps the meaning had shifted. “I mean a holy woman, or man, dedicated to the service of the Five Sisters.”
“Who?”
“The . . . the Five Sisters.” She raised a hand to her scarf of office and held the beaded ends out to him. “Our holy book says that they came from across the ocean and we—”
“Are you saying that this is a religion?”
The sweat on Katin’s hands clung to the scarf, adding to the dirt from the fifnight in the prison. She lowered it and wiped her palms on her leggings. “By my understanding of the word, yes, but the language may have changed.”
“Do you worship these Five Sisters?”
“Yes.”
“So brazen.” The councilor barked a laugh. “Ironic that the most damning piece of evidence against you is the one that convinces me your story is true.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Every year, the Council of Purity finds someone misled by one old cult or another and takes steps to correct the poor soul. These fools have turned their back on proper worship of the eternal moon and, knowing that it is wrong, they try to hide their depravity. Yet here you stand claiming allegiance to goddesses that no one has ever heard of as though there would be no consequences.”
“They are not goddesses.”
“So you deny it now?”
“No.” Katin’s voice was louder than she intended. “I merely wish to be clear. Goddesses are born that way, if one believes in such things. The Five Sisters came from here and shared their wisdom with the early Markuth people. It is said that they were elevated to the stars to continue to watch over us and guide us.”
He waved his hand to dismiss her words. “You do not deny, though, that it is a religion.”
“I do not.” Katin licked her lips. “You spoke of consequences. What are those?”
“The moon is eternal and so we live by her light. Either accept that, or accept the absence of her light.”
Laughter rose unbidden to Katin’s lips. “Given that until a fifnight ago I had never seen the moon, I can easily accept the absence of her light.”
Looking down, he made a mark upon the paper in front of him. “Place her in a cave. Then blind her.”
“No!”
The councilor waved her away. “You are not to be trusted now. Of course you will profess to love the eternal moon, but you have already shown that you do not.” As they led her from the room, the councilor spoke behind her. “Wait. Do not blind her yet. If she is the only one who speaks their language . . . It occurs to me that we should speak to this ship’s husband. If they do come from out of the sight of the moon, then we should find this land and bring them into the light.”
A torch flamed in an iron wall socket, lighting the crude underground passage. One of the guards held Katin’s arms behind her as the other ran his hands over her body, searching for weapons. He focused his attention at her waist and sides, but when he found nothing tucked into her belt, he stepped back with a grunt. Neither man seemed to care about her scarf or notice the pockets sewn into her sleeves. She had a moment to realize that she’d seen no heavy sleeves here, before the guard thrust her into the cell. Katin stumbled over the threshold and nearly fell on the rough stone floor.
The guard smirked, face crazed in the dancing light. “Enjoy the dark.”
The door slammed shut, dropping the cell into twilight. Katin waited for the darkness to descend.
Light trickled under the door and from a crack in the wall. It was not bright, but enough to make out the shape of the room. A small table with a chair stood by the wall. A cot stood opposite it. Her final piece of furnishing was a bucket to hold her waste.
The cave was nothing more than a windowless room.
Katin sank onto the bed and pulled the glowdisc out of her sleeve pocket. She turned the disc over in her hands without opening it. There was nothing she needed to see, but having the smooth surface under her hands helped her think.
Their ships ran dark. Windows everywhere. Crude torches . . . Had she seen a single artificial light besides the torch? No. With the light of the moon, they did not need anything except on cloudy nights.
And perhaps . . . perhaps they thought this was a dark room.
Regardless of what they thought, she needed to get out of here before they blinded her. Katin shuddered. The scriptures were full of stories of people being blinded, and she was suddenly certain she knew their origin.
On the small table, Katin had placed her glowdisc facing the door. The bedsheet hung from the rafters, to create a loose partition in the room. She held the bottom corner of the bedsheet in one hand, waiting until she heard the footsteps of her guard close to the room. Shaking the disc until the light reached its brightest, she tried to keep her breath steady.
Her glowdisc’s silver-blue light slipped under the door into the hall. The guard’s footsteps stopped outside.
“What in heaven’s name?” His keys rattled.
Katin let the sheet fall in front of the glowdisc, to diffuse the light and make the source seem larger than it was, as if it were the Harvest Feast pageant. She leapt across the small room and grabbed the waste bucket by the door.
The keys scraped in the lock, and the door swung open. The guard gawked at the glowing sheet and took a step into the cell. His torch guttered as he crossed the threshold. Katin upended her bucket of waste on the torch, covering the smoking end with the metal. The guard cursed as the excrement and urine ran down his arm.
Katin swung the bucket hard, catching him across the side of his head. The guard stumbled forward and his feet tangled in the ties for her leggings. He staggered and fell into the cell. Katin dashed the bucket against his head again, and he lay still. Shuddering, she dropped the bucket. Moving as quickly as she could, Katin began to strip the guard of his clothes, wrinkling her nose at the stench of the waste bucket. As she rolled him over, her hand brushed the sheath by his side. He wore one of the hollow tubes.
Hesitating for only a moment, Katin unbuckled the belt that held the tube at his waist. It would surely be more useful than his uniform, if she could figure out how to work the weapon.
Katin kept her shoulders back and marched with as much authority as she could muster. She had needed to roll the cuffs of the guard uniform up, but it hid the worst of the staining, and in the shadows of the reflected moonlight she hoped it would pass. Though for all she knew, they had height restrictions on who could be a guard.
With her lower lip clenched in her teeth, she slipped into the building where her shipmates were held. The captain was not in good condition, but they needed to leave and this was likely their only chance. Katin approached the guard slouching by the window. It cast a beam of light across the corridor. Anyone approaching would be well visible.
The guard straightened upon seeing her and made a movement with his hand over his heart. A salute? A greeting?
Guessing, she hastily copied his movement, hoping it was even remotely appropriate.
“What can I do for you?”
Praying to Yorira for aid in the deception, Katin lowered her voice. “The foreigners.” She had been rehearsing this phrase the entire way here, so it would roll off her tongue as if she were a native Setish speaker. “The Apex Councilor says they aren’t worthy to see the light. Supposed to take them to the caves.”
“Now? The eternal moon will be full in less than half an hour. You won’t get them there before prayer time.”
She shrugged, as if she didn’t care. “Orders.”
His
frown deepened. “And by yourself? For twenty men?”
Before the guard could finish enumerating the reasons that this made no sense, Katin had the end of the tube pressed against his forehead. He choked off his words, going cross-eyed looking at the weapon. His swallow was audible in the stillness of the night.
“Is this clearer? Take me to the foreigners.”
He held very still, which was fortunate, as she had no idea what to do with the weapon. Only the fact that one end was obviously a handle gave her even a hint of how to hold it. Reaching forward, she pulled his weapon from the sheath and tucked it into her belt.
His voice was steadier than hers would have been. “I could yell.”
“I could kill you.”
“The gunshot would call the other guards.”
“So the outcome for me is the same either way, but very different for you.” She pressed the tube against his head more firmly. “Stand. If you want a chance to live.”
The guard wet his lips and let out a slow breath. He slowly rose and led her down the hall to where the crewmembers of the ship—no—to where her fellow countrymen were being held. Katin followed behind, with the weapon trained upon his back.
When they reached the cell, she rested the tip on his spine. “Unlock the door.”
The guard reached for his keys. They unclipped from his belt and fell to the ground with a clatter. Katin scowled at him. That was clever. He had followed her instructions, but in such a way as it would force her to take the gun off his back to pick up the keys.
And this was where the Five Sisters’ meditation exercises came in handy. Katin kept the weapon against his back as she reached forward with one foot. Sliding the keys toward her, she was able to scoop them off the floor with the toe of her boot as if she were practicing Dorot’s stance. With her free hand, Katin gave them back. “Unlock the door.”
The guard grimaced but did so, without attempting anything else.
When the door swung open, Katin gave him a shove forward. In the cell, the crew of her ship sat up, blinking in their beds. Tempting as it was to look to the captain, Katin kept her gaze on the guard. She spoke in her native tongue. “Someone secure him. Quietly.”
One sailor stared at her in open disbelief for a moment, before yanking a rope made of torn sheets out of his cot’s mattress. Where had the rope come from? In a matter of minutes, the guard was stripped of his uniform and trussed in the makeshift rope with a wad of cloth shoved in his mouth for a gag. The other crewmen scrambled into their clothes, pulling on boots and shirts in disciplined silence.
Now, Katin could take the time to look to Captain Stylian.
He stood by his bed, pulling on the guard’s uniform. That morning he could barely sit and now, aside from a wince as he slipped the shirt on, it was as if his health had never been in question.
They had been planning an escape and had not told her. A knot of nausea twisted in her stomach. They had not trusted her because her people were from here. Clenching her jaw, Katin turned away from him and headed to the door.
A moment later, Stylian was by her side. He leaned down to breathe in her ear. “I give thanks to the Sisters that you are safe.”
Katin shook her head. “You’ve been pretending to be sicker than you are.”
“I kept hoping that they would take me out of the cell to a doctor, or bring a doctor here that we could use as a hostage.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“It seemed safer to pretend to everyone than to chance our captors guessing.”
She snorted, just letting the air huff out of her nose softly. “You were ready to leave without me.”
“We were ready to come find you.” He laid two fingers on her wrist. “I wouldn’t leave one of my crew behind.”
At his words, her nausea eased. They were all fellow countrymen in this place. Katin handed the captain one of the weapons. “Thank you.”
By the door, a sailor waved his hand, signaling that the hall was empty. They headed out into the moon’s cold light.
With each turn, Katin expected them to be caught, but the shadows served them well. As the moon swelled to full, the cold silver light flooded the streets and houses. They were exposed when crossing the streets, but tucked under the eaves, in the shadows, they were nearly invisible.
The wind carried hints of salt air, and the captain straightened his head. Even without a nautical background, Katin’s own stride quickened at the scent. The sea would carry her home.
The captain held up his hand, signaling a stop. He eyed the end of the street, where the harbor lay. He chewed his lip and straightened the guard’s uniform. “I’m going to scout ahead in case they are waiting for us.”
Katin whispered, “I can go.”
“I can tell the state of the ship, and you won’t know what to look for.”
It was sensible, though she still wished he would not go. “Both of us? As if we are patrolling?”
He shifted his weight, looking again to the end of the street. “Agreed. It will look more natural with a pair, I think.”
As they strode down the street toward the harbor, the captain rested his hand upon the hilt of the tube weapon. “Do you know how to work this?”
“No idea.”
Ahead of them lay their ship, tied to the same dock they had first arrived at. Only a single guard waited at the foot of the gangplank.
The captain’s breath eased out in relief. “Thank the Sisters. No one has noticed our absence yet.”
Better than that, the guard lay on his back on a mat, with his face tilted up to face the moon in an attitude of prayer. Their arrival had coincided with the midnight moon reaching its full brightness. Though Katin and Stylian were exposed walking down the street, the guard would be night-blind from staring at the bright orb overhead.
Stylian turned briefly to wave the crew forward.
They responded instantly and hurried as one down the street to their ship. Katin quickened her own pace. When they hit the wood of the docks, their footsteps echoed against the houses behind them. The guard looked down from the moon.
He blinked, staggering to his feet. “Alarm!”
As his voice rose into the night, Katin recognized him—not a guard at all, but Proctor Veleh. Behind them, metal clattered as a half dozen soldiers appeared on the dock, cutting off their retreat.
Katin sprang forward and shoved the tube against the Proctor’s chest. Her bluff had worked once; perhaps it would again. In Setish, she shouted, “Stop! Or the Proctor dies.”
The soldiers slowed at the end of the pier, their weapons raised to point at the sailors. There were far more sailors than soldiers, but every single guard had one of these cursed tubes.
The proctor looked past her to the sailors and appeared to be counting their number. “I confess surprise. I had not thought to check the prison after your escape from the caves.”
“Tell your soldiers to leave.”
“No. You may shoot me if you like, but you shall not escape judgment under the blessed light of the eternal moon.” Proctor Veleh looked down his nose at Katin.
“As long as we escape here, I’m fine taking my chance on judgment.”
“Even if I stepped aside and let you aboard, what then? You are advocating a heresy, and the Apex Council will find you no matter where you go.”
“We’re from across the sea.” The image of the moon sinking below the horizon gave her an idea. “If your ship follows us, our Five Sisters will drown the moon.”
The Proctor laughed. “You think we do not know that our world is round? The moon does not drown if one goes too far east. She remains over the capital to provide her blessings upon our people.”
Katin looked to the captain and switched back to her native language. “Ideas on what to do?”
“This?” Stylian pointed his weapon at the guards.
A tremendous flash and clap rang out in the night. The guards scattered, ducking behind barrels and poles, but none of them fell. Th
e sound unleashed the sailors to fall upon the guards. More claps resounded through the night.
Yells, cries of pain, and a brimstone stench crowded against each other. Katin pushed the Proctor hard in the chest, and he stumbled back. His heel went out past the edge of the dock and he tumbled over.
“Move! Move!” Stylian bellowed, and like wharf rats, the sailors swarmed aboard the ship.
Scrambling and cursing, Katin hauled a wounded sailor up, throwing his arm over her shoulders. The others followed, leaving behind the bodies of the guards, but not their fellow shipmates.
As soon as the last one was aboard, Captain Stylian gave the order to cast off. Katin helped with the wounded, attempting to serve some purpose as they pulled away from the dock.
She glanced back once.
Proctor Veleh splashed in the water at the base of the dock. The blessed light of the moon shone upon him.
They sailed due east under full sail for hours. Katin stood with her hands tucked beneath her arms. Between her fingers she rolled the barrel of the weapon as if it were a prayer bead, begging each of the Sisters for aid in their escape.
The prayer was automatic, but the comfort did not follow. There was no safe place for her people. Not at home, not here.
The captain came to join her at the rail, still in his borrowed uniform. He sank down on a coil of rope with a groan.
Katin tore her gaze away from the waning moon. “Are you all right?”
“I may have lied a little about faking my illness.”
She snorted and went back to watching the path behind them.
“Thinking about your Sisters’ birthplace?”
She rolled the barrel another turn. “The Apex Councilor said that they would send ships after us.”
“You mean the fellow at the dock? Even if they got a crew up and running as soon as he was out of the water, we’ve got a significant head start on them.”
“No. His boss. And I don’t mean just us, I mean Marth. I think they’re going to invade. The map of the Center Kingdom had no borders. Remember? They’ve conquered the entire continent. Bringing everyone under the light of the eternal moon.”
