The Shewstone

by Jane Fletcher

  Matt frowned. “Eh?”

  “You’ll see what I mean.”

  Still looking bemused, Matt knocked and mouthed. “See you later.”

  The door swung open. “I’ll escort you out.” Redoubtable Sister Door-warden was back in flirtatious mode, and clearly oblivious to the fact the person under the beard had changed. A look of understanding flitted across Matt’s face and then she was gone.

  Eawynn waited until the sound of footsteps faded, then opened the door an inch and peered out. The atrium was silent and deserted. This would be one of the riskier bits. If she ran into anyone, her disguise amounted to no more than clothes, brown skin and a wavy wig. Even if this was enough to stop them recognising her as the former Dutiful Sister Custodian, it did not mean they would mistake her for Hilda of Gimount.

  Still, there was no point hanging around. Her heart pounding, Eawynn slipped though the doorway. The temptation to run was overwhelming, but she remembered the way Matt had walked, the small mouse-like footsteps, the tight, bound in posture. Eawynn did her best to copy, but her shoes still clicked on the stone paving. How did Matt manage it? However, concentrating on the details of posture and movement helped. It stopped her thinking about anything else.

  Eawynn left the atrium and crossed the open yard. She passed the elder tree with the bench around the trunk, the dried up fountain which had not worked for years, the spot where she had been caught throwing snowballs, aged seven. Step by step, she got closer to the relative safety of the hostel. The door came into view, and then she was inside, only to see Welcoming Sister Hosteller in her cubbyhole, just off the entrance.

  The priestess glanced up. “Good afternoon, Madam Hilda. I trust your business went well.”

  “Yes. Thank you.” Eawynn kept walking, and amazingly, that was it. No second look. No challenge or queries. No footsteps chasing after her.

  She climbed the stairs and entered the room. Only once the door was closed did her pulse rate start to slow. That was the next stage over with. Now all she had to do was wait.

  *

  “Do you think it’s what Edmund would have wanted?” Benny clearly did not.

  “He might have.”

  “He named you as his daughter.”

  “Didn’t mean he thought I should become boss of the gang. I’ve never been into the management side of things.”

  “You’re going to let Tobias’s boy take over?”

  Matt gave the question more thought, then shrugged. “Why not? I think he’ll be good at it. Better then me.” She went to the window and peered out. It was time for her to leave.

  Benny had been waiting when she returned to The Jolly Wagoner, and the conversation had been going in circles ever since. “Something’s changed with you.”

  “True. Some things have.”

  Benny ran his hand through his hair. “I’ll tell the boys, but I don’t think they’re gonna like it. But it’s good to see you back in town.”

  “Thanks.”

  He looked at the fake beard lying on the table. “You got a game on the go?”

  “Sort of.”

  “There’s no need to worry about Gilbert. You heard the handymen nailed him?”

  “Yes, I heard, and that’s not it. I’ve got unfinished business at the temple.”

  “The temple?”

  “Yes.” Matt smiled. “And I think Edmund would have approved, wholeheartedly.”

  Once Benny had gone, Matt completed her next transformation. A second set of clothes suitable for Hilda were hanging in the wardrobe. The style was loose enough to slip her set of lock picks inside the surcoat, as well as a pouch containing various items Eawynn had left ready.

  The disagreement about succession in the Flyming gang had taken more time than Matt had allowed. However, with a bit of indecorous jogging, she was not far off schedule when she stopped in Silver Lady Square to buy flowers.

  “I’d like a really large bunch.”

  “Carnations or roses, love?” the old woman asked.

  “It’s for an offering in the temple.”

  “Ah. Then you want lilies.”

  One previous lover had been annoyed when Matt gave her lilies. Supposedly, it symbolised something the lover did not appreciate. Obviously, Anberith was no ordinary girl.

  Matt slowed her footsteps to Hilda’s toddling pace as she crossed the sanctuary. Heavy clouds had arrived late afternoon, and the threat of a downpour was keeping the public areas emptier than normal. Was it right for worshippers of the sea goddess to worry at getting wet? Much about religion was a mystery to Matt. Not that she was complaining. The lack of observers made it easier to transfer Eawynn’s bag to the middle of the bunch.

  With the lilies in her arms, Matt reached the atrium gate, exactly when she had intended, just before the start of the evening meal. It was the one time each day when you could guarantee Redoubtable Sister Door-warden would not be on duty. Her deputy, who had recently taken over, was not to know Madam Hilda of Gimount had not left the temple earlier that afternoon.

  The young priestess smiled at the lilies. “They look nice.”

  “I want to put them in the Shrine to the Oracle. Business has gone well, and I’d like to offer these for future good fortune.”

  “I’m sure Anberith will heed your prayers.”

  Matt nodded and continued on.

  In the shrine, she placed the flowers at the foot of a statue, then on impulse, checked the door to the Shewstone room. It was locked, more the pity. She would have liked to see the new stone. How did Unsightly Sister Orifice’s artwork compare with her own? Who held the key to the shrine now? Not that Matt had the slightest intention of kissing whichever priestess it was. A better bet was the lock picks, but the risk of using them was too much for the sake of idle curiosity.

  The bell for dinner was ringing as Matt passed the refectory door. To keep in character she ought to join with the communal meal, but given the choice between Unsightly Sister Orifice’s company and Eawynn’s there was absolutely no competition. She stopped by the kitchen.

  “Excuse me, I don’t want to be a nuisance.”

  Yet she was being one. Matt could tell from the cook’s expression. “Yes?”

  “My stomach’s unsettled. I don’t think I could face food right now. Could I have a little bread and cold meat to take to my room, in case I feel better later?”

  The cook was clearly rushing through last-minute preparations and scowled, pointing to a shelf. “Over there. Help yourself.” Which was exactly what Matt was hoping to hear.

  The hostel room was empty when Matt arrived, which was not to plan. She put the tray on the lid of the chest, fighting a sudden knot of tension in her gut. What had happened to Eawynn?

  Then the door to the wardrobe opened and Eawynn stepped out. “It’s you.”

  “Aren’t you a little old for hide-and-seek?”

  “I thought it safer.”

  “How long have you been in there?”

  “Since I heard the door close downstairs.”

  Matt gave her a hug. “I’ve brought dinner.”

  “I don’t think I can eat.”

  “Are you feeling ill?”

  Eawynn sighed. “This really doesn’t bother you, does it?”

  “What?”

  “Knowing at any minute someone could walk in and we’d be dead, maybe literally.”

  “Nerves? I’ve the perfect thing for that.” Matt brandished the bottle of wine.

  “You’re hopeless.”

  After much effort, Matt was able to coax Eawynn into eating and drinking. They still had over three hours to kill, and Matt knew the perfect way to spend the time, but for once Eawynn was not interested, even when Matt stuck a chair under the door handle. It would not keep anyone out, but would allow enough time for Eawynn to get back in the wardrobe.

  Instead, they simply lay side-by-side, with Matt’s arm around Eawynn. The conversation with Benny kept drifting around in Matt’s head. She really did not care about
becoming head of the gang, but could not imagine leaving it. Yet Eawynn would never accept a life of crime. Realistically, what were their chances in the long term? Matt clenched her jaw. The thought of not being with Eawynn was unbearable.

  In the end, all relationships floundered and broke up, unless you were lucky enough to find a person you were totally suited to. Matt wanted to think that person was Eawynn, but they were so different. Yet, despite it all, she could not stop herself thinking they were meant to be together. Matt knew she was deluding herself in this, but it felt like the same sort of delusion as telling herself she needed air to breathe. Lying fully clothed with Eawynn, she was happier than she had ever been before. The most energetic and imaginative sex was nothing compared to the satisfying weight of Eawynn’s head on her shoulder. If Eawynn wanted, she could even call her Mattie.

  Was this what love felt like?

  *

  Eawynn wiggled from side to side, trying to adjust the weight of the robe. After three months out of them, they felt heavy, dragging on her shoulders.

  “Any idea whose these were?”

  “I grabbed the first two from the basket that looked the right size.” Matt grinned. “Probably best if you don’t think about it too much.”

  Eawynn gave up with the robe and pulled a cape over her head. Luckily, the weather was wet enough to justify it. “You don’t think we need to shave our hair?”

  “Nope. If anyone gets close enough to have a good look under the cape, the game will be up anyway.”

  Eawynn was not about to argue. It had taken her hair long enough to grow to its current two inches. She opened the shutter a fraction and peered out, not that she could see anything. The moon would be full and high overhead, but heavy cloud blocked all light. A distant roll of thunder rumbled over the vegetable garden.

  “When does it start?” Matt asked.

  “A half hour before midnight.”

  “It should be soon then.”

  Before Eawynn could reply, the chime of the temple bells sounded, dull and muffled by the hammering of rain. Even though nobody could see it, the Extolment of the Full Moon’s Splendour would go ahead on schedule.

  Matt joined her at the window. “We’re lucky with the weather.”

  She was right. They would get wet, but not as badly as those in the sanctuary. Eawynn remembered nights, frozen stiff and soaked to the skin, as she suffered through the required ritual. Any priestess who could wrangle her way out of attending would do so and stay warm in her bed. The risk of running into anyone in the atrium was slim. Of course, the rain meant their own presence was more likely to raise questions if someone spotted them, but who would be nosey enough to step out into this sort of weather in search of answers?

  “Everyone who’s going should be in the sanctuary by now,” Eawynn said.

  “Yup. I agree.” Matt lifted the lantern off its hook and beckoned Eawynn to follow, slipping silently down the stairs and out the hostel door.

  Rain splattered off their capes. The hem of Eawynn’s robe hung a little low and was sodden by the time they reached the shelter of the atrium. It slapped cold around her ankles and clung to her legs. Eawynn grimaced. Just one more reason to be glad about leaving the temple.

  The rain had begun to ease, but still water gushed from the gargoyles and cascaded into the atrium garden. The flower beds must be awash by now. The small circle of lamp light was a beacon in the darkness of the covered walkway. They would be horribly conspicuous, if anyone was watching.

  Matt stopped at the library door and pulled the roll of lock picks from her sleeve. “Here, hold the lantern for me.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “I’ll go as quick as I can.” Matt flashed another grin.

  This also was a game to her, Eawynn realised. Gambling with danger and breaking rules was part of Matt’s world, and not a part Eawynn could ever be comfortable in. Quite aside from her nerves shredding, there would always be, at best, moral ambiguity. The line would not be an easy one to walk. Matt’s skills might be used for good, honourable purposes, if not completely honest ones. What chance she could make Matt stick to this path?

  Suddenly, an old memory surfaced, Hattie talking about Eawynn’s mother, and about how women started out thinking their lovers were somebody other than who they really are. Then, when the illusion was broken, falling into the trap of assuming they could change their lovers to match their initial, mistaken ideal. She never gave up thinking she could turn your pa into a noble hero who loved her. Eawynn did not want Hilda of Gimount, so maybe she was starting out one step ahead. The real Matt was adorably incorrigible, and Eawynn could not imagine her any other way.

  The beating rain softened enough for Eawynn to catch chanting from the sanctuary. Closer at hand, the lock picks produced a succession of clicks and dry metallic scratching. Then, with a last click and a whisper, the library door swung open. She followed Matt inside and shut the door.

  “Where’s the book you need?” Matt asked.

  Eawynn pointed to the proscribed section. “I’m hoping it’s in there.”

  Matt rattled the protective metal grill. “Locked.”

  “You can pick it, right?”

  “I could, but…” Matt reached under a nearby shelf and pulled out a key. “…this is quicker.”

  “When did you put that key there?”

  “I didn’t. I spotted it the first day, when I was being shown around.”

  Eawynn was dumbfounded. “You mean it’s been here all along?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Do you know how much effort novices have put into trying to get a look at those books?”

  “Then they ought to learn how to observe more carefully.” Matt turned the key. “Which book do you want?”

  A good question.

  The general theory of celestial prisons had been known at Cyningesburg, but as their failure proved, they had not got it right. The priestess at Fortaine was the one who had made it work, and Eawynn was betting the difference was in the exact form of words. The bygone cultist would have recorded her discovery. Surely this must be where she would put her notes.

  Eawynn examined the books, seven in total, bound in ancient black leather. Then she spotted one more, a thin volume at the end, pushed back and virtually hidden behind the others. She slipped it out and opened the cover. In dense clerical hieroglyphs was written Diverse Explorations into the Mystery and Mastery of the Otherworld. Had anybody read it since the fall of the empire? Most Reverend Insightful Sister Oracle certainly could not, even if she wanted to.

  “This is it.”

  At the other side of the room, Matt was standing on a chair, doing something with the top of a bookcase. She hopped down and held up the Shewstone. “Here it is. Anything else you need?”

  “Did you remember to bring the bag I left on the table in the Jolly Wagoner?” Eawynn was hit by a sudden doubt. She had not seen it yet, but Matt grinned.

  “It’s waiting for us in the shrine.”

  “Great.”

  “How much longer do we have before the sisters finish their singsong?”

  Eawynn went to the library door and edged it open. The rain had stopped, and the distant sounds of the ceremony were clear. She listened for a moment. “They’re on the sixth verse of ‘Silver Lady of the Skies.’”

  “Which means?”

  “A quarter hour.”

  The lock on the second door gave Matt no more trouble than the first.

  “Your bag is in the flowers.” She pointed out a bouquet of lilies, lying before a statue of Anberith. “Now. Where’s this crypt?”

  In the corner of the Shrine to the Oracle was a trapdoor. Probably the only people to have lifted it in decades were curious novices. When Eawynn was ten, Beatrice had dared her to brave the spiral staircase below. They had crept down with a candle. At the bottom of the steps they found a long room, bedecked in cobwebs. Columns were carved from the bedrock on either side, and a plain granite altar stood at t
he end.

  Eawynn had only the briefest glimpse before a draft puffed out the candle. They had screamed and fled. Five days later, they dared Agnes to go down. However, as a joke, they closed the trapdoor after her and then stood on it. They had not let her out until she was sobbing. Maybe childlike was not the best description for the innocent sylph.

  Despite memories of Agnes’s hysterical pleading, Eawynn felt happier once Matt had closed the trapdoor. For the time being, there was no risk of anyone disturbing them, and fortunately, the lantern was not as susceptible to drafts as the candle. The crypt was just as Eawynn remembered. It had to be the right place. Nowhere else in the temple was there an altar carved from granite. She walked the length of the underground room, opened the book on the altar, and placed the lantern in a convenient niche in a nearby pillar.

  Matt handed over the Shewstone. “Now what?”

  “I read the book until I find the bit I need.”

  “How long will that take?”

  Eawynn planted a kiss on Matt’s lips. “I’ll go as quick as I can.”

  *

  Books were a lot slower than locks. Matt sat on the third step up and watched Eawynn at the other end of the crypt. Two hours gone, and she was still reading. At least, it felt like two hours, and Matt was normally a good judge of time. Up in the world above, the night would be well advanced, heading toward dawn. What would they do if Eawynn could not find the part she needed by then? It was too soon to start worrying or changing plans, but Matt felt the need to do something, other than sit and stare.

  She levered herself up. The muscles in her thighs and shoulders cracked. “I’m going up to the shrine. I want to check out their new Shewstone.”

  “What? Which new Shewstone?”

  “I forgot to tell you. Unsightly Sister Orifice did the same as us and made a fake. The hosteller was ever so thrilled about the hand of Anberith at work. I’m afraid even if you’d offered her the real one, she doesn’t need it anymore.” Matt turned to the stairs. “I’ll pick the lock and be right back.”

  “No. Be sensible. Stay here.”