Star Eater

by Kerstin Hall

  Begin Reading

  Table of Contents

  About the Author

  Copyright Page

  Thank you for buying this

  Tom Doherty Associates ebook.

  To receive special offers, bonus content,

  and info on new releases and other great reads,

  sign up for our newsletters.

  Or visit us online at

  us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup

  For email updates on the author, click here.

  The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you without Digital Rights Management software (DRM) applied so that you can enjoy reading it on your personal devices. This e-book is for your personal use only. You may not print or post this e-book, or make this e-book publicly available in any way. You may not copy, reproduce, or upload this e-book, other than to read it on one of your personal devices.

  Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author’s copyright, please notify the publisher at: us.macmillanusa.com/piracy.

  for Sylvia Hall

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  COUNCIL OF REPRESENTATIVES

  Saskia Asan, Reverend: Commander General of Enforcement

  Dinea Bremm, Reverend: Chief Caretaker of Maternal Affairs

  Yelina Celane, Reverend: Chief Archivist of the Department of Memories

  Shaelean Cyde, Reverend: Head Custodian of the Moon House, former Chief Archivist of the Department of Memories

  Olwen Kisme, Reverend: Former Head of the Department of Water and Sanitation

  Jiana Morwin, Reverend: Head of the Department of Public Health

  Deselle Somme, Reverend: Head of the Department of Food Management

  Belia Verje, Reverend: Head of the Department of Water and Sanitation

  HERALDS

  Ilva Bosch, Herald: Senior nurse at the Department of Maternal Affairs

  Rhyanon Hayder, Herald: Deputy Chief of Civil Obligations, Accountant at the Department of Civil Obligations, Jaylen Hayder’s mother

  Zenza Lenard, Herald: Senior Field Research Officer, supervisor to Elfreda

  Netha Lien, Herald: Senior Enforcement officer

  Vay Lusor, Herald: Leader of pilgrimage to the Moon Pillar

  Kalis Nortem, Herald: Name attached to a bank account

  Jesane Olberos, Herald: Notary in the Department of Judicial Affairs

  ACOLYTES, OBLATES AND RELATIVES

  Jaylen “Jay” Hayder: Rhyanon’s daughter

  Elfreda Raughn, Acolyte: Junior Field Research Officer at the Department of Food Management

  Kirane Raughn, Martyr: Elfreda’s mother, formerly Deputy Chief of Civil Obligations

  Lenette Raughn, Martyr: Elfreda’s grandmother, deceased

  Fian Sebet, Acolyte: Participant in pilgrimage to the Moon Pillar

  Rina Tahen, Acolyte: Administrator at the Department of Food Management

  Megane Tersi, Acolyte: Accountant at the department of Civil Obligations, poet

  CIVILIANS

  Daje Carsel: Millie’s boyfriend

  Hanna: Millie’s girlfriend

  Osan Jerone: Rhyanon’s driver

  Declan Lars: Murderer

  Faye Lenard: Zenza’s wife

  Lucian: Bartender at the Candle

  Tenet Poll: Zenza’s driver

  Renson: Osan’s friend

  Lariel Sacor: Millie’s alias

  Finn Vidar: Elfreda’s best friend

  Kamillian “Millie” Vidar: Elfreda’s counsellor, Finn’s older sister

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE SUN SKIMMED over yellowing leaves and filtered through the branches. Birds darted amongst the trees, passing from shafts of light into shadow, their feathers catching silver. Too hot, too close, the woods themselves seemed restless. Under our feet, the leaf litter crunched, and our white robes rustled as we wound along the path.

  I was focussed on my breathing. In and out, in and out. Nice and slow and easy. Keep my mind on the immediate and tangible: the warm air brushing the nape of my neck, the loose, brittle earth under my shoes. Cicadas hissed, and I set my teeth. It had been seven days since I had last seen Finn, and I could feel the pressure building behind my eyes.

  Concentrate, I told myself. Leave no room for panic.

  In some respects, I had been lucky. The Moon Pillar pilgrimage was the shortest; only a day’s journey from the city. Unfortunately, this trip had taken far longer than usual. Herald Vay Lusor had directed the cohort to stop at every settlement along the route; we were to bless the citizens, listen to their grievances, and collect any petitions or entreaties. Excessive? Probably. But with the drought dragging on, the Council had deemed our support for the farmers a top priority. If they turned on us, the city would starve.

  That was all very well. I just had far more pressing personal concerns.

  Before every Pillar pilgrimage, every errand that took me beyond the Fields, I arranged to see Finn. While the journey to the Mud Pillar had cut it fine—six days there and back—the others had proved manageable. Not this time. Work had overwhelmed me, and then an Acolyte broke her wrist during a Renewal. I was suddenly called to serve as her substitute.

  So here I was. Day seven, and in deep shit.

  The trees thinned and the path grew wider, the dry undergrowth giving way to short, softer grass. We had arrived.

  The Moon Pillar stood in the middle of the clearing, the massive granite column split down the centre by the roots of a long-dead beech tree. White and leafless, the branches threw jagged lines of shadow over the stone, and in the shade gleamed thousands of names. Every Sister throughout the history of Aytrium was memorialised here. When we died, the Order carved our names into the Pillars and filled in the letters with gold.

  The cohort fanned out to ring the monument. I knelt and laid my forehead against the dark earth. Dirt anointed my face, blades of grass brushed my cheeks. I rested the pads of my thumbs against the base of my skull, pressing my other fingertips together to gesture submission.

  Calm down. Just get through it.

  Deep within my chest, my mother’s power quickened. I stilled, letting the rhythm of my blood drown my other senses. The woods grew silent. Faintly, I could hear the slow breathing of my Sisters. Beneath that, quieter still, the sleepy heartbeat of Aytrium itself. Not a true pulse—it was only the echo of our ancestors’ power. I drew out the store of lace nestled within my core, and coaxed the warm thread to twine with the Pillar’s glacial current. Within seconds, my skin grew cold as the monument pulled lace from my veins.

  On my first pilgrimage, I’d instinctively recoiled and severed the connection. The older members of my cohort had laughed at me.

  The air around the Moon Pillar hummed as power drained into the ground. Deep vibrations rattled my teeth. Once my lace was spent, I sat back on my heels.

  A six-legged goat stood tethered to the tree.

  The animal had not been there when I started the rite. It bleated and tugged at the rope, straining to free itself. Its eye sockets were empty and lidless.

  I did not allow myself to react. The goat tossed its head. Its fur was ink-black, except for the two white stripes running from its nose to its horns. Its nostrils flared.

  Other members of the cohort began to sit up, their lace spent. Some gazed absently at the Pillar, while others watched the Sisters still occupied with the rite.

  The goat struggled. Its legs moved awkwardly; a stray hoof drew blood from a rear shin. I sensed it too, the prickling dread. Beneath my knees, the earth trembled.

  The last of the Sisters completed the rite. I stood, brushing dirt off my robes. I did not rush or speak. My face remained impassive. As usual, I allowed the others to lead the way, dropping to the rear
of the cohort. The goat, now frenzied, scrabbled in the grass as the heavy footfalls grew ever louder, but I betrayed nothing, not a flicker of fear. I kept my gaze fixed on the ground and followed the Sisters ahead of me. I did not look back.

  The goat screamed once in terror. Its hooves scrabbled against the earth and there was a sickening crunch, like bones crushed beneath the wheels of a cart.

  The women ahead of me whispered to one another. Herald Lusor, at the head of the column, recited a ritual devotion to the Eater. Her voice rang sweet and clear.

  “For your nourishment, for our nourishment, for the absolution of our mistakes, we give thanks. For your grace, for your sacrifice, for your wisdom, we give thanks. Let us lay our bodies beside yours, let us serve as we may.”

  Step by step, the pressure inside my skull eased. I relaxed my jaw. I was clear; we had moved outside of the vision’s range. Not that I could see how I would ever make it back to the city like this.

  Sunlight scattered through the branches overhead, warming my face. The low conversation of the Sisters blended with birdsong and the rhythm of our footfalls.

  “Have you heard from Ilva recently?”

  “Wasn’t she dating…”

  “—she said nothing … I think so.”

  Breathe. Keep walking.

  A year ago, almost to the day, I had awoken to find my dormitory room coated in a layer of ash. When I touched it, the powder had melted like frost. My first vision, just as I’d been formally inducted as an Acolyte.

  The cohort reached the waypoint. A web of red scarves hung from the tree’s branches. Beaded tassels and tiny copper chimes clinked in the breeze, and a rusted bell hung in the highest reaches of the canopy. Herald Lusor placed her palms flat on the smooth bark of the trunk. A pause, then the bell rang out, and a startled flock of sparrows took to the air.

  As far as I was aware, anyone could enter the woods without announcing themselves, but the Pillar Houses’ zero tolerance policy for trespassers was notorious. Once, on the way to the Salt Pillar, I had seen the bodies of intruders hanged along the roadside. Their bare chests were branded with the two overlapping triangles that marked them as heretics.

  Over the trees, our signal was answered by a second bell from the Moon House.

  Herald Lusor removed her hands from the trunk and turned to face us.

  “Thank you for your efforts, everyone,” she said. “After the delays this morning, I’ve decided that we should spend the night in Halowith. Are there any objections?”

  My stomach sank. The other Sisters murmured approval, and I could say nothing, not without drawing attention to myself.

  “Then it’s decided,” said Lusor. “Let’s move.”

  The woods gave way to farmland; we crossed a stone bridge over a dry riverbed and emerged at the border of the orchards. Beyond the low timber fence, plum trees ran in parallel lines all the way to Fort Sirus. Workers tended to them with buckets, and a few waved to us. In the heat, their faces rippled like the surface of water. Pale pink blossoms lingered on the lower branches of the trees, dark fruit ripened higher up, and the barest whiff of fermentation carried on the breeze.

  I could run, I thought, trudging down the road. My legs were leaden. I could vanish during the night, make up some excuse once I reach the city. A plausible emergency.

  I almost collided with the Herald in front of me when she slowed. I looked up. The other members of the cohort were muttering to one another. Herald Lusor raised her hand.

  The path ahead was deserted. The orchards were quiet. For a moment, I could detect nothing out of the ordinary.

  Then I saw the man.

  He crouched in the riverbed running alongside the road, facing away from us. It would have been easy to overlook him. Dust powdered his skin, hair, and clothes a uniform brown.

  “Sir?” said Lusor.

  Even as we approached, he remained stock-still, his arms wrapped over his head, neck curled toward his chest.

  “Are you all right, sir?”

  No response.

  “Vay…” warned Herald Drishne, the cohort’s second-in-command.

  Thick drops of blood rolled down the man’s arms where his skin had split open. I could see the lines of shallow red gouges through the ripped sleeves of his overalls. He had been scratching himself.

  Lusor gestured, and we spread outwards to flank him.

  “Please stand up,” she said, without inflection. “I need you to identify yourself.”

  The man twitched. The motion undulated across the whole length of his spine. Then he was motionless again. His chest did not rise or fall; he could have been carved from the wood of the plum trees. Now that we stood closer to him, I could hear a furtive rasping sound, something between breathing and growling.

  Lusor nodded curtly to us. I slipped my hand into the pocket of my robes and found my emergency vial. I removed the stopper with my teeth and swallowed the sacrament inside. It slithered down my throat, cold and salty.

  The rasping ceased.

  Lusor made a swift slicing motion with her hand. We obeyed. Thirteen nets of lace flew through the air, snapping around the man’s shoulders and pinning him to the spot.

  He did not make a sound.

  Sweat gleamed on Lusor’s forehead. “Hold him.”

  We watched in absolute silence as she stepped into the gully and circled around the man.

  “Sebet. Raughn.”

  I started.

  “Drop your nets and come here.”

  Fine plumes of ochre dust rose around my feet. No one else spoke. Acolyte Fian Sebet and I were the youngest members of the cohort, and the least skilled in lacework.

  Lusor never took her eyes off our prisoner. She lowered her voice so that only we could hear her. “Raughn, I saw your placement test scores. Your memory’s good, right?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I want you to make a report to the Moon House. Repeat exactly what I tell you to Reverend Shaelean Cyde, and request immediate assistance. Understood?”

  “Understood.”

  She recited her report to me. When she finished, I nodded.

  “Do you need to hear that again?” she asked.

  “No, Herald.”

  “Good. Sebet, I want you to run to Halowith’s chapter house and summon the Sisters on duty. They must help us to contain the Haunt until the retrieval cohort arrives.”

  “Understood,” said Sebet.

  The frozen man stared at me. His expression was unfathomable, his mouth worked soundlessly. Between the ceaseless movement of his lips, I could see two sets of teeth, the back row needle-sharp and pointed. Bubbles of bloody saliva drooled from his chin.

  “Raughn?”

  I snapped out of my daze. “Sorry.”

  “Try to stay focussed, okay?” said Lusor, not unkindly.

  “Yes, Herald.”

  “Once reserves arrive from Halowith, I’ll send a second runner after you.”

  I gestured compliance, weaving the tips of my fingers together and drawing them downwards.

  Lusor dismissed me. “Go.”

  I clambered out of the gulley, and the cohort parted to let me through. Even as I hurried away from him, I could still see the Haunt’s lips moving in my mind.

  “Closer, closer, closer…” he repeated.

  The sun had passed its meridian, but the heat blazed on, and it was scarcely any cooler beneath the beech trees. Perspiration trickled along the ridges of my spine. The Moon House was on the south side of the Pillar. Unless I circumvented the entire wood, the only route was back toward the vision. And I knew it was still there. The pressure in my skull was mounting again.

  At the waypoint, I shut my eyes and drew on my lace, curling a thin thread of power through the tree’s protective web. I found the hidden cord and pulled. Overhead, the bell clanged.

  When I opened my eyes, a rose lay to the right of the path. Red, careless, a flower dropped from a lover’s bouquet. The outer petals were marred by bruise-colou
red marks.

  I shook my head and took the left path, away from the Pillar.

  The Moon House answered, their bell ringing in the distance. They must have been confused, but with luck they would ride out to meet me.

  I came across a second rose, and then a third, tucked into the crook of old tree roots. A fourth, dangling from the branches. Their petals fluttered in the wind. Everywhere I looked, more appeared. Bruised, incongruous, a line of red dripped to the base of a fallen tree, where the petals pooled beneath the trunk. A slender black foreleg lay half submerged in the flowers. The rest of the goat was nowhere to be seen.

  “Eater preserve me,” I muttered.

  The trees thickened, obscuring the sky, and the sound of my footfalls soaked into the dense vegetation. I had never been this deep in the woods before. Strange noises rose and fell, furtive creaks and chirrups, the sharp buzzing of unseen insects, the whirr of wings.

  A blackwing hen burst from the undergrowth ahead of me. I jumped and swore. It flapped up into the canopy, squawking.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  I came to a bend in the path and then, quite abruptly, the Moon House was spread out before me.

  The complex rested against the rise of a steep hill, a semicircle of twelve dark brick buildings nestled in the shadows of the trees. A group of Sisters had assembled in the yard in front of the House stables. Oblates rushed to saddle Cats, and Reverend Cyde directed the preparations.

  She saw me approach. A flicker of surprise crossed her face.

  “Elfreda? What’s going on?”

  I reached the yard.

  “Acolyte Elfreda Raughn, delivering a report from Pilgrim Guide Vay Lusor of cohort eight, identification code 2649B.”

  “Proceed,” said Reverend Cyde.

  I spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Stage Three Haunt apprehended on the West Orchard Road, just past the bridge. Individual is largely unresponsive and contained by eleven Sisters. Reinforcement urgently required.”