by Brandon Sanderson, Mary Robinette Kowal, Dan Wells, Howard Tayler
“They are not goddesses.” The words were out of her mouth before she realized that she should have asked what he meant by consequences.
“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 Seven Sisters came from here and shared their wisdom with the early Fretian 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.”
A protest formed on her lips, but Katin bit it back. What could she say? She did not accept the eternal moon, not when she had good reason to know that it was not eternal. She kept her chin high as the guards came to flank her.
As they lead her from the room, the councilor spoke behind her. “It occurs to me that we should speak to this navigator. If they do come from out of the sight of the moon, then we should find this land and bring them into the light.”
#
Katin stumbled over the threshold as the guard thrust her into the cell. A torch flamed in his partner’s hand, lighting the crude underground passage.
He 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.
#
On the small table, Katin had placed her glowdisc facing the door. She held the bed sheet in one hand, waiting until she heard the footsteps of her guard with her daily meal. Shaking the disc until the light reached its brightest, she tried to keep her breath steady.
The guard’s footsteps stopped outside her door. A moment later, the small slot in the base opened so he could pass her tray through.
“Behold the moon! The eternal moon has come to visit.”
Her glowdisc could not overpower the torch, but its silver-blue light beat it back some.
The guard cursed and scrabbled to his feet. His keys rattled.
Katin let the sheet fall in front of the glowdisc, to difuse the light and make the source seem larger than it was. 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 and moving as quickly as she could, Katin began to strip the guard of his clothes. 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 role the cuffs of the guard uniform up, but 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 fellow 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. A window in the wall cast a beam of light across the corridor. Anyone approaching would be well visible then.
The guard straightened upon seeing her and made a movement with his hand over his heart. A salute?
Guessing, she hastily copied his movement, hoping he would buy it as a salute back.
“What can I do for you?”
Praying to Pasha for aid in the deception, Katin lowered her voice. “The foreigners.” She had been thinking of 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 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 senese, 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 she held. 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 on his belt and tucked it into her own 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.” She pressed the tube against his head more firmly. “Stand.”
The guard wet his lips and let out a slow breath. He slowly rose and led her down the hall to where the members of her 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 Seven 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
The guard grimaced and pulled the weapon out, without attempting anything else.
He opened the door and 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.”
Porit stared at her in open disbelief for a moment, before yanking a rope
made of torn sheets out of her cot’s mattress. Where had the rope come from? In a matter of minutes, the guard was stripped of his uniform and trussed in 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 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 lay two fingers on her wrist. “I wouldn’t leave one of my crew behind.”
Her nausea eased at his words. They were all fellow countrymen in this place. Katin handed the captain one of the weapons. “Thank you.”
By the door, the navigator waved her hand, signaling that the hall was empty and 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 rose to its full height, 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. All this time, seeking her people’s homeland and she was fleeing it in the night.
In front of them, Porit held up her hand, signaling a stop. She beckoned Stylian and Katin closer. In a low murmer, the navigator said, “We should send one ahead. In case they are waiting for us.”
“Likely they are.” The captain chewed the inside of his lip and straightened the guard’s uniform. “I’ll go.”
“Don’t be silly,” Katin whispered. “You need to be aboard to get us home.”
“Mostly you need Porit for that.” Captain Stylian eyed the end of the street, where the harbor was just visible. “Besides 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.”
Katin lead the way before Stylian could change his mind. He caught up with her a moment later and 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.”
He inhaled sharply a moment later. “Thank the sisters. No one has noticed our absence yet.”
Ahead of them lay their ship, tied to the same dock they had first arrived at. Only a single guard stood at the foot of the gangplank. Better than merely standing, he had his face tilted up to face the moon in an attitude of prayer. Their arrival coincided with the midnight moon reaching its fullest 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 Porit forward.
The crew responded instantly and hurried as one down the street to their ship. Katin quickened her own pace. The sound of their footfalls changed when they hit the wood of the docks, and echoed back against the houses behind them. The guard looked down from the moon.
He blinked. “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 is a dead man.”
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 one of the guards 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.” 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 in the kingdom 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 Seven 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 west. She remains over the capital to provide her blessings upon our people. No life exists outside of her divine sight.”
Katin did not bother giving him an answer. She 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 barrel and poles, but none of them fell. This 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 obeyed their captain.
Scrambling and cursing, Porit was the first past Katin, hauling a wounded sailor 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, Captan Stylian gave the order to cast off. Katin retreated to the rail, attempting to serve some purpose by watching for pursuit as they pulled away from the dock. Her last image of the city was of Proctor Veleh splashing in the water at the base of the dock. The blessed light of the moon shone upon him.
They sailed due east under full sails for hours. Porit told the captain to take the course that would put the most distance between them and the land and she would get them home from there. Katin stood with her hands tucked under her arms. Between her fingers she rolled barrell 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 belief did not follow. Katin had been to her homeland and discovered that it was not the thing of legends. There was no safe place for her people, 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 way from the thinning 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.
&nbs
p; “Thinking about your sisters’ birthplace?”
She rolled the barrel another turn. “The Apex Councillor 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 headstart on them.”
“I don’t mean just us, I mean Marth. I think they’re going to invade.” She held up the gun. “I keep thinking that our country will need to work to catch up with their weapons.”
He grunted and stared up at the sky. “I guess the seven sisters may have lead us here to give us warning.”
Katin turned to stare at him. “That’s the third time you’ve spoken of the sisters tonight. You don’t have to act like you believe in them.”
“To my surprise . . . I’m not. Not pretending, I mean.” The captain pointed at the cluster of stars in the sky. “You told me that every story has some truth behind it. Finding the truth here . . . ? Makes me trust the parts I haven’t seen the truth of yet.”
Katin followed his gaze up, to where the sisters traveled their path across the heavens. Maybe the truth was that the Seven Sisters had fled their homeland, or maybe they had been blown off course, or perhaps they were guardians who looked over her people. And the light of Monde lay behind them, casting silver across the sea.
The moon threw its silver light in a band across the sea them, chasing her home.
WRITING EXCUSES 9.30
WORKSHOPPING A FIRE IN THE HEAVENS
(Listen on WritingExcuses.com)
Brandon: Mary, you get to steer this as you do your writing group. Tell us the process.
Mary: Brandon showed one method of critiquing. What we’re about to now do is sometimes called the Milford method, which is that you go around the circle and people take turns. Usually you set a timer so that each person has X amount of time to talk. The person who wrote the story is not allowed to talk until the end, and then we can ask questions.