by Laura Abudo
333
Out of the Faold
By Laura Abudo
Text copyright © 2012 Laura Abudo
All Rights Reserved
Part 1
Chapter 1
The Girls
Krisa
The sensation is so brief you barely register the thought; the whisper of a step behind you on the cobbled street, an elusive flit at the edge of your sight, a shadow or a hint of light where a moment before it hadn’t been. You sense you are not completely alone or thinking clearly. But then a dog barks, someone calls your name or any of the other daily distractions of life and you forget about it. That is what she counts on, what makes her forgettable.
The creak of the door was the only announcement she’d arrived.
“Child?” called a man’s voice from the only other room in their loft.
“Yes, Papa.”
“Come.”
It was dim in their sitting room but she was able to make out the tray on the table. From a pocket inside her cloak she pulled fresh warm sweet bread, a few tiny apples and a waxed-cloth wrapped slab of smoked meat. She brushed any flecks of dust or dirt off the bread, placing their meal on the tray. Her foot nudged the door to the other room. The man inside sat at a desk covered in papers, jars of ink with two lanterns lighting the small, cramped space. A stool was pulled closer so she could place the tray next to him.
“Ah, Mrs. Tinn’s smoked hog?”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Good job,” he smiled, tearing the bread in half, one portion for him and one for her. “It is still warm!”
“Fresh within the hour.”
He smiled and nodded, taking a bite of the bread and gave her a look of pure satisfaction. He scratched more words onto the parchment he was working on before taking another bite, making sure to lean over the floor to prevent crumbs from getting stuck in the ink.
“Any news?” he asked raising an eye in her direction as he finished scripting a word. Her daily excursions provided entertainment and insight into the workings of their city. She was particularly talented at seeing a single person or action and drawing conclusions about its connection with the rest of the world. Brynntown was a medium sized city, large enough for a port and a stronghold keep where the Duke resided. It fashioned cobblestone streets, wooden slat buildings, roads that were wide enough for two carts to pass. The central market square was one of Krisa’s favourite places to haunt, watching hundreds of people as they led their lives.
“Mrs. Fisch caught Mr. Fisch again,” she said to his nod and wink. “Mr. Siln had two whole carts of seed brought in. I saw him talking to Mr. Peffin and they shook a deal. You know their lands border?”
“Ah yes, maybe he’s going to grow on his land?”
“Well Mr. Peffin lost his son last fall. He has just girls now. And they are small.”
“He can’t tend his whole farm. Fisch will grow there and split profits you think?”
She nodded. She stayed silent until he urged her for more.
“Miss Teller did her shopping at the market today instead of tomorrow. The guard changed at the keep two hours early and a new set was brought in three hours later so they are doubled up. It isn’t the fourteenth but the stables at the keep were cleaned and they opened up an entire row. No flags were raised. The Brothers were tidying up around the sanctuary and prepared horses but no one left. A Sister came out to inspect the yards. The innkeeper had a visit from the keep’s master launderer with no exchange. Tucker sent boys out the road to the east.”
“Interesting,” he said, laying down his quill briefly to look at her while he took a bite of smoked meat. He frowned in thought but quickly realized he’d done so and smiled at her. She saw everything. She knew everything.
Mr. Sunn had long ago attempted to learn her talent for reading the events of the people around them, so his mind clicked through all the tidbits she’d just shared trying to pull them together.
It was not unusual for the guard to change their routine. It was only good practical sense for security to be unpredictable. However they’d doubled the size of the guard, which meant they expected visitors, those who needed eighteen stables for horses and likely official enough to stay at the keep rather than the inn. The innkeeper’s rooms were not needed by the keep, hence no order or exchange by the launderer. No flags raised meant it was not political company but military. And Tucker knew they were coming so sent his merchants and rear-kissers to the east to grasp a few coins before they arrived. He probably sent several whores and dice rollers too.
That wasn’t what concerned him. It was the mention of Miss Teller and the Brothers that worried him. The Brothers held the Sanctuary in the center of the city, a plain box-like set of buildings of stone bricks painted matte grey surrounded by a high wall, where the devout came to seek the company of the gods in the gardens within. They were a righteous cult, kind, charitable, welcoming to all, especially the downtrodden or morally dysfunctional. Perhaps it was a collective goal to salvage the souls of those who were least likely deserving. He wasn’t completely well-versed in their teachings, having avoided them from the time ten years ago when a Sister poked a boney finger into the middle of Krisa’s forehead. Just four days old, the umbilicus blackening but still hadn’t dropped, he remembered. They were at her Blessing at the Sanctuary. Suckling. Wrinkly, paper thin newborn skin, closed eyes against her mother’s breast and this Sister came up to them and poked her in the forehead, hard enough to break the seal on the nipple and cause her to wail. She had chuckled and sauntered off. His wife was so enraged that she walked out on the Blessing and they never returned.
The Brothers were often seen out in the city. The Sisters were not. They stayed inside the wall, cloistered away from the men, from everyone, from life. No wonder, he mused, that Sister was insane.
Miss Teller was a housekeeper at the estate of Lord Strenn. He managed the family farms surrounding the city for his older brother, the Duke, who resided in the Keep. He got a healthy cut of the profits for his efforts, a beautiful piece of land and title to show off. His children had private tutors and were rarely seen in the city. Miss Teller always did her shopping at the market on Tuesday. She had not strayed from that routine in two years. The shopkeepers and produce vendors brought out their best wares on Tuesday expecting her. So when she’d arrived today instead he was sure it caused a flurry of activity and rumor in the market.
“What are they saying about Miss Teller?”
“No one knows.”
“And the Brothers? And the Sister out of cloister?”
She studied her hands. She was being reluctant and he knew it. Rising alarm filled him and his toes began to tingle, a strange sensation but with his increased rate of breathing he felt a sudden urge to run.
“Tell me.”
“I went into the gardens,” she admitted. “I was curious.”
He nodded. Curiosity was encouraged in this household. He knew she wouldn’t have gone through the front door, greeted by the Brothers and ushered into the Sanctuary to commune with the gods. She would have found a way over the wall, stealthed to a hidden position and waited and watched. He was often impressed by her patience and exhausting ability to wait and watch. She watched everything. She saw everything. She saw clearly patterns of human behavior in a city where normal folks saw only chaos.
“The Sisters have come out of cloister. They are preparing for visitors too. A Brother is being sent to Lord Strenn to fetch Glory at noon. Another was mentioned.”
So this was it. The girls were being gathered. Glory was Lord Strenn’s daughter of Krisa’s age. She was
probably poked by a Sister as well. There were others. They didn’t know the others. “You?” he asked.
She nodded, her face turned down.
“What do you want to do?” he asked, more to himself than to her. He stood, paced the three steps he could take between his desk and the bed.
“I can hide.”
“You can,” he agreed. “But I can’t.”
“Will they hurt you like they did Mama?” she asked with more emotion than he’d heard in her young voice in a long time.
“We don’t know they…” but he stopped when she gave him that look that told him she knew exactly what had happened and it was no use hiding it from her anymore.
His wife had passed after sudden illness when Krisa was still an infant. She’d been to visit the Brothers at their urging, trying to make peace with her. She’d always been a devotee and they were saddened not to see her anymore. She brought to them the anger she felt at how her newborn was treated within their walls and explained they would not return. The Brothers shared that Krisa was selected in her infancy to become a Sister one day, to live with them and study. At first his wife had been honored and felt blessed, then worried then fearful for the cloistered life her daughter would lead. She refused them.
Days later, in the pit of grief over his wife’s passing, he had agreed, reluctantly, that it was her wish to have her daughter raised a devotee and eventually become a Sister. He was confused and heartbroken. They never returned to the Sanctuary, she did not study with them, but the day was coming, possibly this day, that they would come to fetch her for the Sisterhood.
They both understood that if he hid her or ran with her or didn’t permit her to go with them, he was at risk. She wouldn’t let them hurt him, he knew, so she would go with them. He was supposed to protect her. He was her father. And he couldn’t. It tore at him.
“It is okay,” she told him simply. “We knew it would happen. We are prepared.”
He was always amazed at how old she sounded, how secure in her decisions, how fearless. Even now, on the brink of leaving her home and father behind, she was fearless.
“When I am older I will be back,” she told him with a knowing look. She would escape, she would return, they had talked about it. She was prepared. They would go off to another city together where he could work for another nobleman as a scribe.
“I know you will, Krisa,” he told her with a hug. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’ll come see you often,” she told him with a smile. “That wall isn’t so high.”
He laughed. And he knew she was right. He would see her often.
Glory
Glory giggled as her nanny tickled her with tears in her eyes. The plain yellow robes the Sanctuary had delivered to her were not very flattering but she was excited. Out of the four Strenn daughters she was chosen to be a Sister! The nanny placed a warm wool sweater on top of the chest they’d packed that morning. Inside she had three formal dresses, dozens of undergarments, everyday dresses, leggings for warmth, shoes, boots, linens, pillows, hats, the list went on. Nanny was unsure of laundry protocol at the Sanctuary so felt it safe to pack too much. Anything that wasn’t needed could be returned to the estate.
“I will miss you,” Nanny told her with a teary smile. “Who is going to keep the girls in line?”
“You might have to take over my job!” Glory told her with a laugh.
At the age of ten Glory was the matriarch of the four daughters. Her older sister, Janna, was weak willed and quiet, the younger two looked up to Glory for her manners and proper composure in every situation. If she weren’t going to be a Sister she would have made a fabulous duchess as the wife of one of her cousins or even been presented to the king for his sons. She was flawless. Her clothes were not wrinkled. She knew how to serve tea at the age of five years to her mother’s guests. She even played cards with them during brunches and giggled along as they shared stories of the other nobles. Just yesterday the ladies had held a special brunch for her in celebration of her departure to the Sanctuary. They’d given her gifts. She wore delicate flowers on her ears made of gleaming silver with lacquered petals.
A ringing of a bell from downstairs announced visitors at the door. Glory forgot herself for a moment and jumped up and down in excitement. One last hug had to do as they rushed out of the room. Nanny called for a porter to help with the chest as Glory took her position to descend the staircase, like a queen entering a grand hall. A single Brother in grey robes stood at the open door, his hands folded at his waist, watching as she made her graceful and flawless descent. A wagon stood outside waiting for them. Her mother and sisters kissed her good-bye. They made promises to see each other at holidays and Mother would travel to see her next week at the Sanctuary.
Glory sat next to the Brother on the wagon seat, beaming as they turned down the lane toward the road that led to the city. She would make new friends, become the most beloved pupil the Sisters ever had. Perhaps they would have her to tea and tell her stories as well.
Pearl
Pearl noticed the Brother watching her from across the cobbled square. She’d ducked behind the seamstress shop but when she peaked out again, he was still there, trying to look casual. But she knew. She’d had a history with the Brothers. Every six months or so they’d snatch her, take her to that Sanctuary-place, bathe her, put her in a dress, make her listen to a bunch of stories about dead people she cared nothing about then sent her back to the streets making her promise to come visit the next week. She never did. She never got hungry enough to go back without being snatched.
She was happy where she was. She had a few comfortable places to sleep, she made friends easily, ate well enough. She knew who to stay away from and who she could trust. She didn’t have to deal with tutors or be stuck indoors. Pearl learned young you don’t just take what you want or no one will trust you and they will never give freely. So each day as she walked through town a shopkeeper may call her over for a piece of fish, give her a pair of old shoes or cut her hair if it was in her eyes. She didn’t have parents but a lot of different people looked after her. She was dirtier than most, counted stray cats and dogs as friends, even got tsk’d at by fancy ladies in the street but she was fine with it.
One day last week there were two maids from the keep in the shop where she sat nibbling on a tart in the back room. One nodded at her and said to the other, “That one will be a Tucker whore the way she’s already filling out. Dressed as a boy she can’t hide real curves much longer. Such a shame. You can’t scrape mud off a boot with a dirty knife.”
The shopkeeper shooed them out furiously then brought her a sweet, maybe in her way as an apology for their behavior. The woman had asked again, “You sure you don’t want to come get cleaned up, I’ll train you a bit, get a position at the Keep? You’d never want for anything.”
“No, ma’am,” she told her again. “Thank you, though.”
“You stay away from that Tucker,” she demanded with a finger pointed at Pearl. “You bind up your chest if they get bigger than eggs and you come to me if you start to mense. You stay away from Tucker.”
“I will,” she agreed and nodded.
What the woman didn’t know was that Tucker had already tried to win his way into her graces, brought her sweets, a pretty green dress and the promise of coins of her own. But his ladies she knew down by the pubs told her to stay away. He was one of those people she couldn’t trust. They had warned her.
Thankfully people mostly let her be and she was content with that. Until the Brother showed up. He was still there. If she tried to sneak past and he managed to grab her she didn’t know if she could bring herself to bash him in his knockers like she could to any other man. She wondered if Brothers even had knockers under their robes. The thought caused her to giggle.
A hand grasped the hair on the back of her head tightly, pulling her backward almost off her feet. A Brother stood looking down at her from above. A flash of panic charged her elbow with speed she didn’
t know she had, it must have struck real knockers because he doubled over with a cry of pain. He hadn’t let go of her hair so she was dragged down. It was cut short enabling her to struggle out of his grasp. She ran faster than she’d ever run before. The first Brother still stood in the square simply watching as she dashed toward the pubs and the dock where she hoped there were more people to hide her. Alleys she knew so well seemed less protective than ever. Someone had boarded up a hole at the back of a shed where she and a few of the dogs slept at night. In a panic she ran into the road again to find someone she knew to shelter her. A Brother saw her from two doors away, hiked up his robes to run faster and almost reached her but she found the arms of one of Tucker’s ladies, a shield with long skirts.
“Now, Brother,” she smiled at him. “Pearl has done no wrong. Leave her be, now.”
“I don’t want a dress!” Pearl shouted at him from behind the woman.
“Come, girl,” he muttered, weary of chasing her. “It’s time.”
“Time for what?” Tucker’s lady asked, her hands on her hips.
Another Brother stepped out of an alley to the side and another seemed to float down the road toward them.
“Did something happen, Pearl?” the woman asked her quietly. Pearl shook her head into the woman’s back.
“It takes three Brothers to tackle a little girl in the street,” she screeched drawing looks from others passing by.
“She needs to come with us.”
“I’m not!” yelled Pearl backing into the doorway behind her.
The woman glanced at the door, appearing undecided what to do. She dare not send Pearl inside into the clutches of Tucker, though she feared the Brothers weren’t innocent in their approach to the girl. She had no time to decide though for the door swung wide. Tucker placed a hand on Pearl’s shoulder but she swiftly moved back to the safety of the woman’s skirts.
