by Pam Brondos
“You’ve known Benedict awhile, then?” he repeated.
Nat sighed and brushed rivulets of rain off her horse’s long neck. Water splattered against her face when the horse flicked its head to the side. “No.”
“When you came back from the pit last night, you lit into him like you knew him well enough. Can’t say I’ve ever seen a Sister do that before.”
“What, get angry? Can’t Sisters get angry, especially when someone lies to them and tricks them?” she said more defensively than she meant. She didn’t want him to think she was irrational.
Soris looked through the rain and down the muddy road. “Yes, of course they can. You’re just different. Most Sisters I’ve met are pretty controlled.” He glanced back. She was hunched over the saddle horn, wet cloak plastered to her back.
“I must’ve been trained differently than the ones you knew,” she said, thinking of Andris’ constant criticism and berating, Barba’s and Estos’ nonstop torrent of information, and the concoctions Ethet made her drink.
“It makes no difference to me how you were trained, Sister.” He shrugged. Black clouds rolled above the valley, blotting out the remaining light. “We need to find cover.” He pointed to the clouds. Droplets of water hit his face. The clouds spun and rolled through the sky. She nodded and urged her horse to follow his off the road onto an overgrown path.
The rain fell harder. Their horses raced over the slippery grass. Clumps of mud splattered against Nat’s arms as she trailed Soris. The wind ripped the hood off her head. They rounded the base of a low hill. The crumbling remains of a stone wall stood amidst tall grass and weeds. The gray stone was slick with rain. On the other side of the wall, lonely columns stretched to the sky. She slowed her horse and examined the ruins. Another House, she thought and wondered which one.
“This way!” Soris called from ahead, gesturing to a grassy path under a stretch of trees. They made their way under the leafy canopy until they reached a large meadow. Nat pulled on the reins and looked up in awe. Branches and tendrils stretched across the sky, forming a verdant cover over the open meadow. Shafts of gray light and streams of rain penetrated the cover, but the meadow was peaceful compared to the storm raging beyond. Nat urged her horse on. Tattered old ropes hung from the canopy, their frayed ends swaying eerily in the wind. She passed a jagged wooden post just as Soris skirted the edge of the meadow and disappeared behind a long building opposite Nat.
The first level of the building was made of the same gray stone as the wall. The second level was a covered deck looking out on the meadow. Thick wooden posts supported the roof. As she drew near, she noticed each post was carved from bottom to top with images of the vine, sword, bird, and sun. The middle post was covered with carvings of weapons, swords, spears, and arrows. The building, she discovered, was anything but intact. The side wall was partially caved in, exposing a dark interior through an opening big enough for Nat and her horse to pass through. They entered a long room segmented by three wooden stairways in various stages of rot. Soris reappeared from behind the second stairway. Nat dismounted, took the reins, and gently pulled her horse forward while kicking rocks out of the way.
“I hope you won’t take offense that we’re using this as a stable, Sister.” He unhooked a saddlebag and dropped it on the floor. A mouse scampered from under the leather.
“I don’t mind,” Nat said. She unbuckled the strap holding her bag.
“Cassandra would’ve—” He paused a moment. “She would’ve had a problem coming here. But I figured you’d be fine, given it wasn’t your House and we didn’t have any other available options.”
Nat studied Soris. Why did he bring that crazy Sister into the conversation?
He glanced at her nervously and busied himself removing the saddle. He sat the saddle on its end and began wiping down his horse. “I didn’t think it was right what Benedict did, Sister. Sending you down into the pit.” He spoke more to his horse than Nat. “I’ve heard she has walls of orbs. Benedict shouldn’t have done that to you.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly. The kindness and concern in his voice struck her. She slid her saddle off her horse and stood it upright in a dry, rubble-free corner by the stairs. She watched Soris as he worked on his horse, rubbing its limbs. His wet hair lay at a funny angle against his forehead.
“I wasn’t mad at Benedict because of the orbs,” she said as she approached her horse. “Benedict was trying to get back at me for something by sending me down there.”
“Get back at you for doing what? Bringing him to Gennes? Protecting him? Gennes said he had to fend you off when he threatened Benedict.” Soris picked up a scattered array of broken branches with his good hand and tossed them into a pile.
“It’s complicated.” She pulled the thick saddle blanket off her horse and shook it. Puffs of horsehair filled the air.
“Benedict and my brother planned our mission. If you have a problem with Benedict, I should know about it.” Soris stood directly across from her, arms crossed. His expression was agitated, and he looked like a younger version of Andris.
“It’s nothing to do with the mission. We don’t agree on how to treat a . . . duozi.” She hoped he’d let it rest at that, because she couldn’t very well explain how she knew he locked duozi children in cabinets.
“A duozi?” he replied, looking confused.
“Yep, a duozi.” Did he not care for them as well? she wondered and turned her back on him, ending the conversation. Soris waited a moment, shrugged, and moved to the far end of the building. A piece of broken tile lay on the floor next to a clump of thick grass that her horse was consuming. The tile threw off an opalescent color. Nat picked it up and examined its bulging surface in the gray light. The curved tile was a piece of broken orb. The tip pricked her finger and a small droplet of blood welled up. She sucked her finger and pocketed the piece. She looked around at the ruins and shuddered.
Soris kicked bits of rubble from the corner, then sprang lightly up a set of stairs. The wood creaked under his weight. He came bounding quickly down and jumped off the side instead of using the last few stairs. He shook his right hand and stuck it under his opposite arm.
“This should do for tonight. I doubt we’ll have company.” He nodded at the thick line of trees visible through the shattered window. Nat had the feeling he wasn’t talking about people. He pulled out a compact crossbow made of dark wood and set it next to his bedroll. His mouth tightened when he bumped his hand.
“How’s your hand?” She dropped her bedroll near his and pulled her orb from her robe. It began to emit a gentle glow and heat as it hovered near them.
Soris slid down to the ground and smiled wanly. “Starting to hurt a bit.”
She flicked a spider off her bedroll and knelt next to him. Carefully pulling his hand into her lap, she examined the two punctures. The wounds themselves were hardly visible. The skin around them, however, was a swollen red ridge covered by a weepy ooze. She considered using some of Ethet’s herbs to relieve the swelling but hesitated. The punctures had to look bad for Mudug to believe their lie. She handed him a water gourd. He took a sip and handed it back.
“He didn’t do anything other than puncture your hand?” she asked as she gently examined the palm.
Soris shook his head and winced. “Well, he outdid himself, didn’t he?”
She took a drink and gestured to the crossbow. “Are you planning on using that one-handed?”
Soris laughed. “Won’t need to with you around, at least not here. The Nala won’t bother us if they see that.” He pointed to the design on her arm. She choked as she swallowed another gulp of water. Soris lightly patted her back.
“I’m fine,” she coughed. She hoped he and Barba were right about the markings. She took another drink.
“The Nala are the least of our worries,” Soris continued. “It’s the guards in Rustbrook we need to think a
bout. I’m leaving the bow here along with our clothes.”
“Our clothes?” She glanced at her tunic.
Soris smiled again. “Our real clothes. We’re bastle herders, remember?”
“Must have slipped my mind.” She corked the gourd and leaned against the rough wall.
“The guards in Rustbrook will paw through everything. We’re going to have a hard enough time hiding the suix stone, riven, and the sleeping tar Benedict gave you. If I walked into Rustbrook with that bow, or if they found your orb or cloak, we’d be finished before Mudug could spit in our direction. We’ll stash our things here and then come back afterward.”
Nat looked at the orb. Barba wouldn’t be happy with her leaving it. But she wasn’t very happy with Barba. She let out a rueful laugh.
“What’s funny?” Soris chewed a bit of jerky.
“I just promised my . . . my Head Sister something about my orb. She’d have my hide if she knew I was leaving it.”
“Doesn’t need to know, does she?” Soris said through a mouthful of meat.
“No, she doesn’t. She was less than upfront with me about a few things. This would be a minor payback in comparison.”
Soris chewed a little more, and Nat began to wonder what kind of meat he was eating. She examined the stringy jerky and took a small bite.
“Is my brother with your Head Sister?” Soris asked.
Nat chewed slowly and swallowed. She took another drink before answering. “He is,” she said, feeling the need to be vague.
“He really is well, then?”
Nat nodded. “Yes.” She looked closely at his face and messy blond hair. “You two aren’t much alike. Your brother’s got a pretty hard edge to him.”
Soris glanced at her and smiled. “He’s not so bad,” he said. “Just always felt like he had something to prove with Gennes and Gordon as his older brothers.”
“Gordon?” she asked before remembering Gennes’ comment about the remaining brothers.
His smile faded and his full lips pinched together. “Gordon was the oldest.”
“What was he like?”
“Calm. Nothing unnerved him. His men loved him. I guess that’s why Emilia took a liking to him.” He shrugged as if brushing off a sad memory. “We all looked up to him.”
Nat wanted to ask about Emilia, but a cloudy look settled over his face. “How about you?” she asked instead.
“What about me?”
“Did you feel like you had something to prove?”
“No, never,” he said honestly. “Now I just want my brothers back together, to have everything the way it was before all this happened.” He gestured to the ruins. The two chewed their food in silence. “Do you have any brothers?” he asked.
“No, I have two sisters. Both younger than me.” She broke off a clump of cheese and handed it to him.
“Fortunate family,” he said with a mouthful. “My mom and dad would have given a leg for a daughter. Instead they got four boys. My mom was always saying that she’d had one for each House, the only problem was we couldn’t get in.”
“Boys can’t study in the Houses? I mean, of course boys can’t study in the Houses.” Flustered by her slip, Nat jumped up and began to busy herself by preparing a fire with the sticks Soris had collected. When she had a small flame going, she sat back on her heels. “So, where did you and your brothers study?” she asked, keeping her head down and her eyes on the flame.
“Since the Rim Accord was between the Sisters and the Nala . . .” Soris paused, and Nat finally looked up. He was waiting for her to agree, so she nodded. “Our family did what all respectable families do with their boys. Gordon and Gennes lived with our dad in Rustbrook and trained. Andris and I stayed on the farm with my mom and learned how to run the business. My father and brothers would come back each spring for the plantings and in the fall for the harvest. Then they’d be on their way again.” The flame was full now, and Soris spread his wet cloak to dry on a large stone. Nat retrieved her cloak and did the same.
“I don’t see Andris as a farmer,” she said as she smoothed the cloak.
“Neither did he.” Soris laughed. “Hated every bit of it. He wanted to be with Gennes and Gordon.” He lowered his voice and squinted. “He always said, ‘It’s like being on a slow pony ride in the round pen. My arse always hurts and I’m getting nowhere.’”
Nat smiled at the impersonation. “Pretty good. You’ve got his growl down.” She stood and crossed her arms, her mouth set. “‘As I see it, you have two choices, Sister: do exactly what I say, or do exactly what I say. What’s it going to be?’”
“Any doubt I had about you knowing my brother just vanished,” Soris said, clapping.
“Your brother and I spent more time together than either of us wanted,” she said as she looked through the thick, splintered glass of the nearest window. “I know that he would give anything to be here instead of where he is.”
“He never was one for staying in one place or being patient. He was always getting me into trouble going on Nala hunts in the forest or preparing an ambush along the road to the farm. He drove my mom to the edge, which was no small feat. She was an Emissary Sister. I could never win an argument with her or get her goat. But Andris always could.”
Little puffs appeared as Nat exhaled. She studied Soris’ face as he stoked the fire. He looked lost in his memories. She wished she could share something about her life as openly as he’d just shared with her. She warmed her hands over the low flames before returning to her bedroll. “How did he end up in Estos’ guard?” she asked. She wanted to keep the focus on him, knowing vagaries and lies were all she could offer in return.
“He locked the foreman in the icehouse with the season’s butchering after Gordon and Gennes returned to Rustbrook. Mom handed him a bag with some rations and her training dagger and kissed him good-bye. I can still hear his whooping as he raced off down the road.”
“You were the last one left.” She thought of MC and felt the now-familiar ache of missing her family.
“Yes, but I never wanted to go to Rustbrook. I loved the farm, still do. One day, maybe after all this is over, I can go back. Start things up again.”
“What about your parents?”
“They disappeared around the same time Andris did. The last time all of us were together was in Rustbrook before Emilia’s wedding. Gordon sent for us a day before, but my mom and I had no idea what was in the works. I’ll never forget watching Estos introduce my brother as Queen Emilia’s husband. Even from where I stood in the crowd, you could see Mudug turn red like a beet. Rusrel passed out.” Soris leaned his head against the wall, lost in the memory.
The names and information swirled through Nat’s head. “The man in the pit was named Rusrel.”
“Same man.” Soris looked into the fire. “What House were you in when it happened, Sister, when everything began to fall apart?”
“I . . . I was trained in a fringe House.”
“That explains those markings.” He pointed to her bare arm. “I’ve never seen those on a Sister, except in books.”
They sat quietly. The muted rain continued to fall.
“Soris, how did Rusrel end up in the pit in your brother’s camp?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Are we in a rush to get somewhere tonight?”
“No.” His forehead creased. “After Gordon was killed, Estos disappeared. My dad and Gennes went north with a few men looking for him. I know they were looking for Gordon’s killer, too. Andris wanted to go, but Gennes made him promise to stay and guard Emilia. After they left, Andris came to me and said Emilia didn’t need guarding, that she wanted him to go find Estos.”
“So he left?”
“He left.”
“And you were supposed to watch Emilia for him?”
“Yes. Can you guess
what happened after he left?” he asked bitterly.
“As I was leaving the pit, Cassandra was screaming at Rusrel, calling him a murderer over and over again while she . . .” Nat closed her eyes. “He killed Emilia, didn’t he?”
“Yes, killed her while I was supposed to be watching her.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Soris,” she said, placing her hand on his arm and remembering what Estos had told her about his sister’s death.
His eyes had a hollow look to them. “You’re probably right. She wouldn’t listen to me, anyway. I was just a kid.” He tossed a stick into the fire. “We both made it easy for Rusrel.”
Nat laid her head on her knees, resisting the urge to say something.
Soris gave her a quick, sad smile and continued, “Mudug then sent Rusrel with the guards to destroy the Healing House west of Rustbrook, claiming they were harboring duozi. Cassandra and a small group of Warrior Sisters ambushed them. The Sisters were outnumbered, but she managed to get away with Rusrel. It would have been better if they’d both died, if you ask me. Cassandra was pretty far off the cliff when she stumbled into Gennes’ camp. She’d been dragging Rusrel around for months as her captive.” Soris stood slowly, shaking his puffy hand. “I’ll take the first watch, Sister. This hand will be useless in a few hours. I’d rather watch while I can.”
Nat nodded and offered him some more dried meat.
“No, I’m good.” He held his hand up in protest. “Never liked dried bastle. Disgusting animals, even if their wool is worth a precious sum.” He shivered. “But we’re bastle herders now, aren’t we?” He grabbed his dagger and headed up the stairs, leaving Nat alone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
She lay with her eyes open, staring at the rotting wooden beams that stretched across the ceiling. Like everything else she’d come across in this place, the beams were barely holding.
The faces of the people she’d met filled her mind. Everyone was suffering in some way. Benedict was so full of anger and suspicion that he attacked innocent children. Cassandra bore the memory of death and was just barely clinging to her sanity. People like Annin were hunted down and treated as parasites, even though they had done nothing but fall victim to some monster. The Houses, which even in their rubble told of past grandeur, were in ruins. She thought about Soris and her family. How would she feel if her parents disappeared, or if Cal up and left one day? What if this place were her home?