The Shewstone

by Jane Fletcher

“Even when they’re stealing from you?”

  The blow had set Matt’s head spinning. She squinted at the first speaker, still standing in the doorway. He was the smallest of the three, but clearly the boss. Everything about him was neat and trim, from his beard to the square set of his shoulders. His clothes were expensive. The light shimmered over his red silk shirt and glinted off gold rings.

  He laughed. “If they’re good enough to steal from me then they deserve whatever they can get.” He waved his hand. “Let the boy up, and we’ll see what he’s stolen.”

  “Not a boy,” Matt said. She flexed her legs before standing, to make sure they would hold her, but refused to rub the side of her head. Never show you are hurt.

  “Ah. Indeed.” The boss’s smile broadened.

  “Bread, apples…cheese!” The shapeless lump fished from Matt’s shirt was what remained after her fall.

  “Food. Which I’d say she needs more than I do.” He paused, tilting his head in thought. “Go down and tell the boys to wait a minute, while I talk to our young thief here.”

  Once they were alone, the man placed the candlestick on the desk and sat, studying Matt.

  “Would you like to introduce yourself?”

  “Matt.”

  “Which is short for?”

  “Matilda.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mattie. My name is Edmund Flyming.”

  Matt’s mouth was open, ready to correct him. Only Ma called her Mattie. Nobody else was allowed, but the words stuck in her throat. If she had known whose house it was she would never have dared break in. He must like thieves, a third of them in the city worked for him, along with the fences, grifters, footpads, and smugglers. He also ran brothels and gambling dens. Things did not go well for folk who upset him, though street tattle claimed he was a fair boss and a man of his word. He sparked loyalty in his followers, fear in his enemies, and respect from most others.

  “Where are your parents?”

  “Ma ain’t around no more.” Matt chewed her lip, wondering how much to say. “Pa would get drunk and hit her. One night was really bad. I hid, and next morning, Ma was gone. Pa said she’d run away.”

  “Did your father used to hit you as well?”

  Matt nodded.

  “So you ran away too?”

  “Wasn’t that. My big sister, Emmy, got pregnant.”

  “He couldn’t hold you responsible.”

  Matt shrugged awkwardly. “He was the one that did it. After Ma went, Pa started paying attention to Emmy. When she got big, he started looking the same way at me. I wasn’t going to end up like Emmy, so I ran.”

  Something dark, angry, and dangerous flitted across Edmund’s face, but not directed at her. “How old are you, Mattie? Nine? Ten?”

  “About that, I guess.”

  Edmund steepled his fingers. “As I’m sure you know, Mattie, I employ thieves, good ones. And you’re clearly a good thief. Would you like to come and work for me?”

  Matt drew a deep breath, mostly from surprise. The memory of the food in the cellar was enough to sway her, and if she worked for Edmund Flyming, no jumped up bully would dare push her around. Before she could say yes, Edmund went on, as if she might need persuading.

  “I know you know sometimes when men say they’re being nice to young girls, they’re not really being nice, as with your father and your sister. I assure you I’ve no such interest in children, and no time for anyone who does.” He smiled. “You’re a good-looking child. So maybe in another ten years I might feel differently, but only if you’ve managed to turn into a man.”

  Matt nodded. Edmund Flyming’s taste in lovers was also common knowledge in the city. “Yes. Yes, I’d like to work for you.”

  “Good.”

  There was a knock at the door and a head appeared. “Are you nearly ready, boss?”

  “Yes. And can you wake Pearl? I want her to look after my newest employee.” Edmund stood and held out his hand. “Come with me.”

  Half a dozen men and a couple of women were assembled in the entry hall, large rowdy boys for the most part. The woman casually cleaning her nails with a knife put Matt in mind of whispered rumours about the handymen—handy at putting a blade between their victim’s shoulders. But the one who stood out was a man with his hands tied behind his back and a sack over his head.

  “That’s Will,” Edmund said. “He was supposed to be working for me, but he appears to have been doing some freelance work. I want to ask him about it.” He crouched down so his head was level with Matt’s. “But don’t worry. As long as you play fair by me, I’ll play fair by you. You can trust me.”

  Matt stared into Edmund’s eyes. She did trust him. In that instant she knew it. She trusted him in a way she had not trusted anyone since Ma went.

  A plump, middle-aged woman in bedclothes appeared. She toddled to Edmund’s side, showing not the slightest surprise at the bound man.

  “This is Pearl. She’s going to get you a bath, a place to sleep, and clothes, more food if you want. And sometime you must tell me about your father, his name and where he lives.” Edmund reached out and gently brushed the hair from Matt’s forehead. “The world is an unfair place. Bad things happen to good people, while it can seem like bad people have all the luck. But sometimes even bad people have accidents.”

  *

  None of the adults used the word “money,” but they had their code phrases for it. Eawynn had no trouble hearing what was really being said.

  “I’d be honoured to show my gratitude to the temple,” was her father’s code for, I’ll give you a lot of money if you take my daughter off my hands.

  “Your piety does you credit,” which was the priestess’s code for, Thank you, and the more the better.

  The priestess who talked the most was called Insightful Sister Oracle, sometimes with Most Reverend tacked on the front, to let everyone know she was extra important. The priestess sitting beside her was Assiduous Sister Treasurer. This priestess was also important, although she said nothing and did not smile. However, her eyes lit up every time Eawynn’s father mentioned his gratitude.

  Two other priestesses were present. One was Stalwart Sister Door-warden, who was clearly not as important as the oracle or treasurer and so did not get to sit down, even though there were spare chairs. She had escorted Eawynn and her father, Thane Alric Wisa Achangrena, to the meeting room. The last priestess was not even worth an introduction and stood ignored at the back. Eawynn also did not get a seat and stood beside her father’s chair.

  The priestesses all wore shapeless sea-green robes, held in place with a white rope belt. The material was a coarse, heavy weave. They all had shaved heads and no makeup or jewellery or anything to make them look nice.

  Eawynn did not want to become one of them. She wanted to stay in her father’s house, with her own room; her nice clothes; her pony, Smudge; her kitten, Dumpling; her books and toys. She wanted to stay with Hattie in the kitchen to spoil her. She wanted things to stay the way they were. But what she wanted counted for nothing. Eawynn fixed her eyes on the wall and tried not to cry. She was not supposed to cry.

  “I’ve kept the child with me, out of affection for her mother. A reminder of what we shared,” her father continued. “But I’ve always known some day I’d have to make other plans for her future. The position is, you’ll understand, delicate.”

  Delicate. That was another code word, one Eawynn had heard many times. Insightful Sister Oracle nodded, her face blank.

  “Her mother and I…” Without looking, Eawynn knew the sad little smile on her father’s lips. “We were young and in love. We were sure our families would approve the match. Both were of equal standing, but…” Her father’s hand waved in a vague gesture, to convey the cruelness of fate. “My love’s family had other plans. They kept the birth a secret. What could I do but go along with their wishes? But I ensured the child had a good upbringing, befitting her bloodline.”

  Eawynn bit her lip. The story was one she had heard
before, and one Hattie claimed was completely untrue. According to Hattie, her mother had been a pretty kitchen maid. In those days, her father’s sister had been thane, and her father had been free to live the life of a wealthy rake. A boating accident, two months ago, meant her father, unexpectedly, inherited the title. As Thane Achangrena, he was heir to an ancient and noble lineage, the equal of any on the Island of Pinettale. By comparison, Hattie was a cook, a servant, a nobody. No court of law would take her word against his, but Eawynn knew which one she believed.

  From time to time, Eawynn would wonder about her mother, and what she had looked like. Her father had passed his colouring to her. Like him, Eawynn had the burnished red hair and pale white skin of the old Rihtcynn aristocracy. It allowed him to maintain the fiction of the doomed love affair with a noblewoman of good blood. But his heavy, drawn face, with squashed nose and narrow set eyes, was as different from hers as it was possible to get. How much did she take after her mother?

  “She has received a suitable education for a girl of gentle birth. I’m assured she is an apt student. Although she turned six not a month ago, she knows her numbers and letters and speaks Cynnreord fluently. She can sing prettily and accompany herself on the lute.”

  Did they have lutes in the Temple of Anberith?

  Again, Insightful Sister Oracle nodded, her face revealing nothing. “Her education will continue in the temple. I’m sure she’ll become a most valuable member of our sisterhood.”

  “Yes…yes, quite.” Abruptly, her father ran out of steam. He swivelled to face Eawynn.

  She searched his eyes for a trace of the indulgent father she knew. Not that he had played much part in her life. He had always been kind, often generous, showering her with gifts, but mostly he had been absent, abandoning her to the care of servants. He was abandoning her again, but this time it was more serious. It was forever.

  Eawynn almost gave in to the urge to plead, to beg him not to leave her in the temple. She was sure, if he gave Hattie a fraction of the money he was giving the sisters, the cook would happily take her in. However, being raised as a servant was not fitting for the daughter of Thane Achangrena, not even an unwanted, bastard daughter like Eawynn.

  “You’ll stay here and become a priestess of Anberith.”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  “It’s a noble thing, serving a goddess.”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  “If you work hard, you’ll do well. The sisters are very pleased you’re joining them.”

  And that you’re paying them so much. Eawynn nodded.

  Her father stood. “Right. Well. Good day to you, Holy Sisters. My steward will be in contact.”

  Stalwart Sister Door-warden escorted him out of the room, and out of Eawynn’s life.

  “He hopes to fly high.” Assiduous Sister Treasurer spoke for the first time.

  “Indeed. He’s clearly anxious to divest himself of anything that might drag him down.” Insightful Sister Oracle’s eye flicked in Eawynn’s direction. “He might be a useful friend to the temple.”

  “Certainly if he pulls off the marriage to the Earl Blaedgifa’s daughter.”

  “Yes. And I hear his prospects are very promising in that direction.” Insightful Sister Oracle turned to Eawynn. “So, child. You’re to join our community. Don’t worry. It’s a good life, as long as you’re a good girl. Are you a good girl?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “You should address me as Beloved Sister.”

  “Yes, Beloved Sister.”

  “She seems quick enough,” Assiduous Sister Treasurer said.

  Insightful Sister Oracle nodded. “Tells me your father you knowing of Cynnreord. Are you liking the language for speaking this?”

  Eawynn struggled to understand what she meant, and not because the priestess had switched to the actual language. Her accent was appalling. Insightful Sister Oracle managed to make the flowing ancient words sound as harsh and vulgar as common Tradetalk.

  Eawynn replied, also using Cynnreord. “Yes, Beloved Sister, it feels so much more poetic and cleaner.”

  “Well, he told the truth about that much.” Insightful Sister Oracle reverted to Tradetalk, which she clearly felt more comfortable speaking. With her shaved head, it was impossible to tell the colour of the priestess’s hair, but her skin was as dusky as any common labourer, or Hattie for that matter, although Eawynn loved Hattie and never held her base blood against her.

  “Nurturing Sister Mentor will look after you and introduce you to the other girls in training.”

  The last priestess finally had a name. She came forward and took Eawynn’s hand. “Come with me, child. I’ll show you the dormitory where you’ll sleep.”

  Eawynn looked down at their interlinked fingers. Nurturing Sister Mentor’s skin was several shades darker than her own, yet she was still lighter than either of the more senior priestesses. Did blood and breeding count for nothing in the temple? Before she was taken away, Eawynn could not stop blurting out the question uppermost in her mind.

  “Are you going to shave my hair now?”

  For the first time, a smile crossed Most Reverend Insightful Sister Oracle’s face. “Not until you finish your training and take your vows as a priestess. And that won’t be for another fifteen years.”

  Chapter One

  The razor blade was a line of ice, scraping over Eawynn’s scalp. A lock of red hair floated down to join the others on the white flagstones. Wisps of sweet incense tickled her nose. The rasp of steel on skin was loud in her ears, blending with the chanting of her sister priestesses who formed a circle inside the ring of marble pillars. The Inner Sanctum of Sea and Moon stood on the small headland jutting out behind the elders’ residence. The sound of waves, breaking on rocks below, was a background rumble, carried on the dawn breeze.

  The winter solstice had passed just seven days before, and the air was cold enough to sting Eawynn’s cheeks, but the long night was over. A final six-inch strand spiralled to the ground, twisting as it fell. The light of the rising sun flickered like fire along its length. In the future, there would be no locks, just a month’s growth of stubble to be removed by Comforting Sister Infirmarian’s razor.

  Eawynn was the last of the three initiates to be shaved that dawn. Even in the dim light, she could tell her hair from the common black of the others. But would she be able to pick out the red when the cutting was a bare half inch? Eawynn hoped so. Her noble ancestry might mean nothing to anyone else, but it still mattered to her.

  Eawynn knelt, facing the statue of Anberith that dominated the back of the sanctum. The stone was cold and hard beneath her knees. The new sea-green gown provided no more protection than the old grey novice one had done. Overhead, the last stars were fading in the washed blue sky, but no moon had risen that night. The Oblation of the Avowed Supplicants took place at dawn of the new moon, the hair offered to the lunar goddess as tribute, to ensure her return for another month.

  Comforting Sister Infirmarian stepped back and gestured for Eawynn to stand. As she took her place among the circle, the cold air was unfamiliar on her freshly exposed scalp. Soon, she would get used to it, Eawynn guessed.

  Most Reverend Insightful Sister Oracle, in her role as high priestess, led the cycle of prayers. This was the first time Eawynn had taken part in the ceremony, which concluded with burning the hair. In the initiates’ training, Eawynn had rehearsed the Oblation countless times, yet she had not anticipated how long it would take in practice. The ceremony dragged on and on. Of course, this was the extended version, the first after the solstice, where novices were initiated into the sisterhood, but even so! Were they going through it twice? Or was it just anxiety about what would follow, when she would learn her future role in the temple?

  The final prayer was not finished until the sun was high above the horizon. The column of smoke floated away in the crisp air as the priestesses filed out. Nurturing Sister Mentor’s responsibility for the initiates was over. She gathered them around her one l
ast time, embraced them affectionately, then also left. Her place was taken by the less affectionate form of Insightful Sister Oracle, who beckoned them to follow.

  On the short walk, Eawynn tried to reassure herself she had nothing to worry about. She failed. By the time she reached the audience room, her stomach felt as if she had swallowed a snowball. Several elder priestesses were there before them. Who would she be assigned to? Was one looking at her with more interest than normal? But no, they were all acting as if she were invisible, much as everyone had been doing for the last four months.

  The only exception was Enlightening Sister Astrologer, who sat at the front, smiling, and that was bad news. Insightful Sister Oracle posed herself regally on the chair beside her rival, and Enlightening Sister Astrologer was so busy smirking she did not even roll her eyes. The snowball started bouncing up and down.

  The last elder, Studious Sister Librarian, slipped into the audience room and closed the door. Eawynn fought to suppress a pained expression at the sight of her. Not that Eawynn held any deep personal dislike for the current librarian, but if only her predecessor, Erudite Sister Librarian, had lived for a couple more years, the outlook would be far more hopeful.

  Erudite Sister Librarian had been a brusque, opinionated, and irritable woman. She had also been an exceptional linguist and scholar. Was it any wonder she had lost all patience and respect for her fellow priestesses years ago? Eawynn had been the only one who could spend an hour in her company without provoking an outpouring of acerbic comments. Eawynn had also been the only one who could understand what was said, if the librarian, in her sole concession to tact, voiced the comments in an obscure language, such as Pinettia.

  Erudite Sister Librarian had unmistakably been training Eawynn as her successor. There really was no other serious candidate in the temple. If she were being honest, Eawynn would concede she could not quite match Erudite Sister Librarian’s ability to decipher ancient texts, but felt she had the edge when it came to ease of acquiring languages.