Depths

by Jacque Stevens

  “That’s Valadern.”

  Sister Leah’s voice invaded my thoughts. I jumped and turned.

  She stood in her dark habit by the entrance, holding up a candle as we both peered closer at the stone figure. “I’ve also heard him called Neptune or Poseidon. One of the dark gods, banished by our lord. A minor one, I believe. Some of the local sailors cannot put their suspicions completely aside and call him a saint. They say he controls the tides or something.”

  Valadern was the God of the Sea. The god of rain and thunder and oceans so vast they reached into the underworld, claiming him a portion of the world of the dead. The god who changed my family into immortal sirens and stole my voice. I had heard of his other names as well, but they seemed better suited for a kinder, lesser god than the one we worshiped.

  How could a god like Valadern be considered minor? Be called a saint, just to appease “superstitious” sailors? It was ridiculous, and I let her read it from my face.

  “Our god created the whole earth. Any other power is minor besides him.” She gestured back to the painting of the tortured man, and I wanted to laugh.

  Despite my ignorance of most things in Solis, I should have expected that the sisters worshiped the One God. Mother said all the providences claimed to. She had also said the god had harsh and strict morals that made the priests of Cypari forbid her from all mortal indulgences and cursed her natural powers over the storms. But they were all hypocrites, never reaching the perfection they preached. That was why Mother threw off their chains and expectations and picked a god who pleased her better. One who added to her power and helped her take her revenge on everyone who once held her bound. One who made her a siren.

  I knew of my mother’s triumph, but I had never expected her former opponent to be so pitiful. I had seen the sisters worship, clutching small crosses near their breasts and talking of lambs and babies and some vapor god who filled the whole earth. I assumed the man pictured a previous sacrifice they had used to appease their vapor god, not the god himself.

  And he hadn’t even answered them, for all their prayers.

  Why would an all-powerful god be so silent? Why would he be pictured as a baby or in his death throes? Neither image inspired much confidence.

  Valadern could make a mountain tremble.

  Leah took the rag from my hand. “Come along, Anne. I wanted to show you something.”

  I followed her down the hall to a room filled with robed and balding men. As Leah had said, women lived mostly separated. It had been easy to avoid the men. Seeing them now, my heart raced even if my feet could not. But none of the men glanced up as I approached. Heads down, they scrawled characters across stacks of parchment. Colored ink gave life to the lettering, adding green vines, red flowers, blue water. Pictures filled the margins, just like my secret book.

  I yanked on Sister Leah’s sleeve, begging her to fill the air with some words to fit this wonder since I could not.

  She smiled. “I thought you might like this. These men have dedicated themselves as scribes of the holy word. I’ve heard of some poets doing the same to old fables as well. It’s a written language, a way to communicate even without speech.”

  I had seen letters before. I had seen a whole book. She must think me horribly ignorant, but I couldn’t begin to remove the wonder from my gaze. If only Mother had deemed it important for her daughters to read, then I could really show her.

  “I thought, if you worked with the scribes, you could learn to communicate better.”

  Work with the scribes? But they were all men. Grown men. Scowling men. I could never do that. I looked at Sister Leah with a raised eyebrow, certain she should understand.

  It wasn’t like she wanted to live with the men either.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Some say reading and writing is unfit work for a woman—a wife—but if you took the vows and stayed here, it would never be a question. You would be doing it to help the order.”

  Help the order; swear to another god. That seemed worse than working with men. Mother would kill me. Or even if she didn’t, Valadern might. I had just sworn myself to him before coming here. He probably wouldn’t like me to stay for even one more night in a worship house where his image was so degraded. I should leave. I looked to the door and trembled, wondering if I was ready to brave the outside world again.

  The world filled with dogs and men and who knew what else.

  Sister Leah reached for my hand, and I started.

  She laughed. “Child, you don’t have to be so timid, whatever you are running from. We have sanctuary in these walls. In this house, no power exists but that of our god.”

  I didn’t believe her. Not then. But I couldn’t be scared of the nuns or their pitiful god. I didn’t work with the scribes or take any oaths to make my stay permanent, but I felt safe here and I didn’t want to leave quite yet. A week passed, and then another.

  The place was timeless. I knew that I only had two more months before my mother’s deadline. I should be going to the palace to complete my mission, but with my first experience on the streets and Sister Leah there to confirm that my entrance into the palace on my own would be unlikely, I kept waiting for Lilthe to find me again. And even when she didn’t, I never tried to venture out alone. I would justify staying one more night, thinking somehow that would make me better prepared to face the world of men that now surrounded me.

  Really, it wasn’t so bad staying here. Though our opposing gods should have made us natural enemies, I couldn’t help but like the sisters. I liked listening to their laughter and singing in the halls, like hearing my actual sisters’ voices on the island. I liked listening to the stories of the ones who served the village as teachers or nurses. I liked listening to the senile ones talk of angel visits in the larder and “the way things used to be.” I soaked it all up, and there were nights where I didn’t think of leaving at all.

  I slept in the dorms with two other girls closer to my age, novices. After the day was over and they shook their hair from their habits, they spoke in solemn voices of all they had given up to be here—isolated to the convent. Of all the men and pleasures they had before. I hardly believed their stories but compared to the island the convent already seemed like a dream. One filled with just enough activity and people to fill me up without setting my feet running.

  And the priests, the men, hardly came at all except to lord distantly over some of their worship services. I could handle that.

  Even the boarhound, Cerberus, was friendly, once I got to know him. He never minded that I couldn’t talk and would follow me around the yard whining for a belly rub or treat. I was his most shameless benefactor. I even copied his movements sometimes, as he already seemed an expert in making his wants known without a proper voice.

  And when the other nuns started calling me Sister Anne, linking me with the novices, I didn’t do a thing to stop them.

  Chapter 11

  “Sister Anne?” The shout seemed loud and desperate, but I didn’t hurry. People liked to shout at me, but they rarely meant anything by it. It seemed they assumed that just because I couldn’t speak, I must be deaf as well. But if I were deaf, did they truly think shouting would have any impact?

  And sometimes, I heard things—the kind of things that normally a person would whisper. It was like having a magical power, to be fully in the room and do nothing to hide my presence, yet still have people tell me what they thought or planned without a filter. I knew every time Sister Joan had an impure thought or one of the fathers took an extra pastry from the larder.

  Whatever their secrets were, they would certainly be safe with me.

  I finally joined Sister Leah on the outside steps. On the footpath, four large men and a pair of oxen stood near an elaborate carriage. Several women—in long stolas instead of habits—were unloading sacks and crates from another storage cart. “There she is,” said Sister Leah, calling me over. “Sister, would you mind showing these young ladies to the guest rooms?”

&nb
sp; I held out my hands for the bags, but the pickle-faced servant wouldn’t give them to me right away. She rattled off a whole list of things that needed to be done and must not be done in setting up one of the rooms. “Did you get that?”

  I nodded, but she wasn’t looking at me as she searched the cart for another bag.

  She turned and asked the question again, now more irritated. “I said, did you get that?”

  Sister Leah moved to stand in front of me. “Sister Anne has taken a vow of silence.”

  I didn’t know why Sister Leah always said that—like it should be less shameful for me to willingly take on a handicap than to have it as a curse. I couldn’t think of anything more stupid—like starving to death in front of a banquet of roasted gulls. If I could talk, there would be no good reason to stop.

  The new woman frowned at me. “I hope she can still settle things quickly. Princess Helene needs her rest. We’re going to reach the palace day after tomorrow.”

  They were going to the palace? I reached for my coin.

  Sister Leah laughed. “Now you’ve got her started. She’s obsessed with the prince.”

  “Is she?” Another young woman with a small, upturned nose came into the conversation, and everyone stiffened their backs. She had her long dark hair tied back and golden fastenings on her stola. I guessed her to be near my twin sisters’ age—three or four years older than myself. “And she hasn’t taken the full vows yet? She’s still a novice?”

  No. I hadn’t taken any vows. Sister Leah had explained that I could serve as a novice for two years before that would become a question.

  The young woman clapped her hands like she had discovered an extra sweet on her plate. “Well, that’s just perfect. One of my handmaidens ran off when she found out I would be living in Solis. What do you think about taking her place and coming to the palace with me?”

  The palace? I smiled and nodded in the desperate, expressive way I had learned. When a smile and a nod was all you had to share your joy, you had to make them count.

  Sister Leah smiled too, but only until the new women were out of sight.

  Then the creases on her face deepened. “Come along, Anne,” she said, shaking her head as I followed after her. “Is this what you want, child? I know you fancy the prince, but you’re such a timid lass. A good lass. I won’t have those highbred hounds at the palace make crow food of you.”

  I barely heard her words. My eyes were far away until Cerberus jumped up to lick my face. I would miss him most of all. This place had been my sanctuary, but it couldn’t hold me. I had only two months left to win over my prince and, now that the path stood open, I had to see him again.

  Sister Leah let out a sigh. “Only a princess would think that turning a waif into a handmaiden is an easy task. We barely had you trained up here and getting things ready for the wedding won’t be easy.”

  The wedding? My head jerked up. I bobbed my shoulders in what would be a simple shrug, but between the sisters and me it had become a full query. What wedding?

  “Of course, the wedding. Why do you think Princess Helene has come to Solis? She is to wed the Sun Prince before the year is out.”

  Erys. My Erys.

  Chapter 12

  Princess Helene’s three other handmaidens reminded me of the novice sisters with how they gossiped, but they more often had their noses in the air. The carriage was too rocky when they rode with the princess. The dirt too abundant when they walked. And the freak was staring at them.

  That was me. I stared more earnestly.

  They deserved it. As the lowest in their social order, they gave me what they deemed were the worst chores—anything to do with the princess’s toilet. That girl couldn’t do anything for herself. And I never got to ride in the carriage, either. I walked every step of that dirty, uneven road that tested the calluses on my feet.

  But we were getting closer to the palace. I could tell, because the gossip changed.

  “He must be so handsome,” one of the older handmaidens said. She slid her hand through her hair, pulling out dirt and twigs as we walked. “I always wanted to meet a prince.”

  The other nodded. “They said his grandfather wrestled a lion. And that his grandfather was raised by them. He’s sure to be a great warrior.”

  I laughed—or at least I made the motion with the rise of my chest and the upturn of my lips. I couldn’t make a sound. And Erys couldn’t kill a fish.

  The first girl glared at me. “You think something is funny?”

  Yes, but I shook my head.

  It seemed in at least one respect I was more of an expert than these girls.

  That didn’t last long. As we continued down the road, it widened. More and more people passed alongside us, filling the space. Men with sticks leading goats. Women carrying weaved baskets. Children that bounced with every step. Wrinkled faces and a man with only one hand. Things I had never seen before; things I never even heard of. The upturned dust, the smell, the noise. Thicker and thicker. Louder and louder. How could anyone stand it?

  When we passed through the gates into the capital city, I could hardly keep my breath.

  The road was wide, but the crowds and the too-large buildings still felt close enough to swallow me whole. The second storage cart wouldn’t even fit. That would have to stay behind with a few of the princess’s men until the traffic lessened at nightfall.

  I wished I could have stayed with it. My head ached with too many sights, too many sounds. Goats bleating, people shouting. Off-white marble columns made up larger villas with gardens springing up everywhere. Other buildings seemed to go up forever with breaks of peach brick marking every story—people crammed together like chickpeas.

  I couldn’t walk without someone brushing near me. One nearly ran me over. I walked closer to the carriage and smacked against it with my full body at a sudden turn.

  The collision made a sharp thump, and I fell to my rear.

  The princess stuck her head out the carriage window and called the group to a stop. “Sister Anne? Are you all right? You look so pale.”

  I tried for a smile, but I could barely breathe. The princess and her men stared at me. Some of them glared. My legs curled toward my face, and I stayed on the ground. The princess was the last one I wanted to look the fool in front of. She was my rival for the prince’s affection.

  That she had a higher chance at it only made me hate her more.

  My chest heaved. Black spots appeared across my vision, but I knew everyone on the street was staring along with the princess and her men. Stop panicking. Stop panicking. Just stop!

  Why couldn’t I stop?

  Helene’s hand went to her heart. Her voice seemed leagues away. “You’re nervous! Why don’t you come sit with me?”

  In the carriage? I thought about refusing—I couldn’t continue to look that weak in front of her—but I had to do something. And really, who would refuse? Panicked or calm, it would be a break from walking. I had swallowed more than my fill of dirt. All the other handmaidens had ridden in the carriage at one point or another, leaving no real reason to be proud.

  I nodded and stumbled to the open door with my chest still heaving.

  The handmaiden already in the carriage glared as she gave up her seat for me.

  Drops of sweat reformed on my brow as the door closed. It was hotter in here, but the door also muffled all the outside noise. I would take the heat for the silence; I took it like a shielding blanket during a winter storm.

  I would spend the rest of my days in here if I could.

  Like a seagull with its eyes covered, my heart started to forget the crowd outside. I took one slow breath and then another. Smiling, I looked over the mobile sitting room for the first time. The cushions and engraved wood were enough to marvel at even closed up tight.

  As my breathing slowed, sounds from the other royal passenger filled in the space.

  “You see, Anne? There is nothing to be worried about,” Helene said, her voice high and airy. “
The palace is just a house. The prince is just a man. Barely a man.” She forced a laugh. “Did you hear he’s younger than me? I’m eighteen. He’ll turn sixteen before the wedding, so it’s only two or three years difference, but maybe that will help. He’s a boy like any other. Just a boy.” She chanted the words again. Her fingers went white on her handkerchief.

  She was just as nervous as me, though it seemed for a very different reason.

  Even when she stopped speaking, she hummed and took long, shallow breaths until the carriage rattled to a stop.

  Were we there already? More muffled noises came from outside, and the door opened. I braced myself for the cacophony of the street, but it seemed farther away. The palace formed an irregular rectangle with square towers and wide windows with arches built into the limestone and marble. I turned at the familiar sound of the sea softly lapping the cliffs under the southern wall.

  Part of me longed to jump into the surf and never look back, but I was also drawn to the line of armored men that had come to greet us. My heart jumped again, this time with excitement.

  Would Erys be here?

  I couldn’t pick him out of the crowd—all these men were too large and carried shields and spears I doubted Erys could even lift. Soldiers and guards, not princes. Using the princess as a body shield, I scanned the slew of faces to a middle-aged, clean-shaven man at the end.

  A crown of laurels rested on his graying, dark curls.

  Helene took another breath and stood. I crawled up after her to stand with the other girls. The carriage driver announced the princess’s lineage as the daughter of one of my mother’s cousins—the cousins who had assumed the Cypari throne in my mother’s absence.

  The older man’s voice boomed in return. “Well met, Helene. You are welcome here. May I present Prince Erymanthus Apollos Augustus, my only son and heir?”