by Kerstin Hall
Finn checked if anyone was close enough to overhear us, and lowered his voice.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Now? Yes.”
“Good, because I was worried out of my mind.” He glanced toward the queue of workers clocking in with the shift supervisor. “Can I walk you to the Council Building?”
“Sure, if you want to.”
“I do.” He smiled. “Let me just sign off on this shift.”
With my visions banished, I allowed myself to relax a little. Finn had been my best friend since I was seven, and was one of the few people I trusted completely. In his company, I felt stable, secure in myself, which seemed key to suppressing the visions. I watched as he joined the queue of workers, cracking a joke that caused the people around him to groan. These days, he was doing well. I was glad to see him happy, even if it left me feeling a little lonely.
The breeze shivered across the pale gold fields, brushing the shadows of the city wall. I rubbed my arms. Hopefully, delivering the report would not take too long.
Finn returned, stretching his arms overhead.
“I’ve discovered that I am not cut out for farming,” he said with a grimace. “Or hard labour, generally.”
“You look tired.”
“Thank you for noticing. I feel ready to drop dead.”
“So dramatic.”
Finn made a show of pretending to faint, leaning against the silo wall for support. Claws growled.
“Don’t upset my Cat,” I said, although I could not help smiling. “Can you drag yourself to the city please?”
“So … far…”
“Enjoy sleeping in the Fields, then.”
“That sounds pretty appealing right about now.” He straightened. “But I’ve got a shift at the Candle tonight, so unfortunately it’s not an option.”
“Oh. You don’t need to walk halfway across the city if…”
He waved off my suggestion. “I want to. Don’t worry, I’m just whining. Let’s go.”
Claws rose reluctantly. Ahead of us, the city walls stretched tall and shining, and we followed the path that led to Ceyrun.
CHAPTER THREE
THE COUNCIL BUILDING was situated in the Minor East Quadrant, the wealthiest sector of the city. It stood four storeys high, overlooking the college grounds and the Department of Memories. The old building projected an air of stately grandeur, with its yellow stone walls and fine latticework, its mythic friezes, its jutting balconies and sloping gullwing roof. The oldest wing of the building was home to the Conclave of Representatives, and dated back to the Great Fire of the Ash Disciple rebellion almost four hundred years ago.
I seldom had reason to visit the Council Building. In fact, I had not seen the interior since my induction as an Acolyte last year.
“I’m not sure how long I’ll be.” I gazed up at the carved pillars. Sisters were leaving the building, work concluded for the day. “If the Council is in session, it could be a while.”
“I’ll take that as a hint,” said Finn. “Want to drop by the Candle afterwards?”
“It’s been a long day.”
“I thought you might say that.” A strange expression passed over his face. “El, I’ve been thinking…”
He trailed off.
“What is it?”
“Probably nothing. Forget it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He smiled. “Yeah, I’m sure. Listen, are you free tomorrow? Millie has plans.”
“What kind of plans?”
“It’s Daje’s birthday. I’m supposed to convince you to attend. So, you know, please come.”
I laughed. “Convincing.”
“I try. So?”
“I don’t know, would Daje really want me there? We aren’t exactly close.”
Finn shook his head. “It’s fine, it’s just a casual thing in the Gardens. I get the impression it’s more for Millie’s benefit anyway.”
“Still…”
“He won’t mind.”
I thought for a moment. Sisters were granted a day off after any pilgrimage, and although I wanted to see my mother, that wouldn’t take more than an hour.
“All right,” I said, still a little uncertain. “If you’re sure it’s okay.”
Finn grinned. “Great. Meet me at the graveyard at third bell?”
“Fourth?”
“Sure.” He leaned forward quickly and kissed me on the cheek. “See you then.”
He was walking away from me before I could think of anything to say. My cheek burned, and I felt, suddenly, as if the eyes of the whole city were upon me.
I hurried up the steps. Reckless idiot.
Cool, dry air wafted out into the evening; the walls of the building were thick, and chambers within always cold. At the entrance, the Acolyte on guard gestured welcome to me.
“Is the Council still in session?” I asked.
She nodded. “I believe so, but they should finish shortly. Do you need help finding them?”
“I think I’ll manage, but thank you.”
My footfalls echoed on the tiles. The foyer was vast and dim; red carpeted stairs bordered the chamber, and a great brass chandelier hung from the ceiling. Marble busts of prior Councilwomen sat in recessed alcoves. Their eyes seemed faintly accusatory to me. A statue of the Star Eater stood on a raised pedestal in the centre of the room. The old woman had a stern expression, but her hands reached outwards, ready to embrace penitents. Small offerings covered her bare feet.
I paused to pay respect, then headed up the right-hand staircase to the third floor. The workday was done, so the Council must be running late. Probably struggling to reach consensus on the water crisis.
Oil paintings crowded the walls of the eastern wing corridors. The old floorboards groaned as I made my way toward the Council chambers. I had never been to this part of the building before, and could not quite shake the sense that I was trespassing. The murky glass of the windows only let in thin, watery light, and the smell of lantern oil and varnish was cloying.
I followed the sound of voices. As I got closer, I could catch snatches of an argument.
“… won’t be anything left to preserve if they tear down the walls!”
Someone spoke with a mollifying tone. I did not catch their words.
“I don’t think you understand the severity of the situation.” That was Reverend Deselle Somme, Head of Food Management. She spoke slowly and clearly, and her deep voice carried well. “If we don’t implement measures now, we are setting ourselves up for full-scale civilian revolt.”
An Acolyte stood outside the doors to the Conclave. She wore a heavy yellow uniform, with tasselled shoulders and a tricorn hat. When she caught my eye, she grimaced. Outside the door, the Reverends’ every word was audible.
“It’s high time that the radicals were served a reminder of who rules this city. We can handle the situation.”
“Who is ‘we,’ Jiana?” A new voice, icy and authoritative. “Because I’m fairly certain you mean ‘Enforcement can handle the situation,’ and that means I will have to handle the situation.”
“They’ve been at it for an hour,” the Acolyte whispered to me. “If you have a message, I can pass it on for you. This could last all night.”
I winced. “Unfortunately, it’s urgent.”
The Acolyte nodded sympathetically. “In that case, rather you than me.”
At least I was back in the city. If I could handle the visions, then surely I could face the Council. I raised my hand and knocked on the varnished wooden door.
“Your convenience is not a priority.”
“This is not about convenience. You know what will upset the civilians? The cancellation of a festival they’ve been preparing for since last year.”
The uniformed Acolyte gave me an embarrassed smile.
“They probably won’t hear you,” she whispered. “You’ll have to intrude.”
Better to get it over with. I steeled myself, and pushed
open the door.
The Conclave of Representatives chamber fell quiet. The room was much larger than I had anticipated, with the thirteen representatives seated in a ring behind individual stone podiums. A huge map of the island was painted on the floor, the names of towns and rivers etched in gold. Three of the Reverends were on their feet, their argument stalled by my appearance. The other ten remained seated beneath the coloured banners of their departments.
I stepped inside and gestured respect and regret. My throat felt bone-dry.
“What is the meaning of this?” Reverend Jiana Morwin of the Department of Public Health fixed me with a cold stare. Her skin was flushed with anger.
“Please forgive my intrusion,” I rasped. I cleared my throat. “I have an emergency missive from Reverend Shaelean Cyde of the Moon House.”
“Whatever it is, I hardly think it justifies disrupting session.”
I swallowed. Although I knew who all the Councilwomen were, I had only ever spoken to Reverend Somme, who was the head of my department. The thirteen most powerful individuals on Aytrium, and I had barged into the middle of their meeting.
“Come now, Jiana,” said Reverend Yelina Celane, the Chief Archivist of the Department of Memories. Her robes bore the green quill insignia of her department, and she appeared quite at ease. She smiled at me. “No need to be rude. Your name, Acolyte?”
“Elfreda Raughn, Honoured Councilwoman.” I drew Cyde’s report out of my bag and hesitated, unsure who I should present it to. To my relief, Reverend Somme held out her hand.
“Very good,” said Reverend Celane. “Thank you for your service, Acolyte Raughn. You may go now.”
“One moment.”
Reverend Saskia Asan was the youngest member of the Council and its most recent addition. She served as the Commander General of the Department of Enforcement, the Sisterhood’s military force. Rumour suggested that she was one of the most talented lace-weavers of the last century, and, despite her coarse demeanour, one of the smartest women in the Sisterhood.
“You aren’t a House member,” she said. “Unless you’re wearing someone else’s robes.”
“I was part of the Moon Pillar pilgrimage and available to deliver Reverend Cyde’s report.”
“Please speak louder.”
“The House members were occupied,” I said, raising my voice. Other members of the Council whispered to one another. Sweat rolled down my back.
“Huh.” Reverend Asan folded her arms and slouched on her chair. “Irregular.”
Reverend Somme finished reading Cyde’s letter. Her gaze flicked toward Reverend Asan, and she set down the paper.
“Thank you, Elfreda, that will be all,” she said.
I bowed. The whispering grew louder. I backed out of the room and closed the heavy door behind me. My hands shook.
“What was all that about?” asked the Acolyte.
“I’m not authorised to say.” Although, given her position, she would no doubt find out shortly. One of the perks of her job, I imagined. I could hear the murmur of Reverend Somme’s voice as she read Cyde’s report to the Conclave, too low to understand. The Acolyte frowned at me.
“Enjoy your evening,” I said.
The truth would leak to the rest of the Order soon enough anyway. I doubted that the Reverends could keep the Haunt a secret, not after so many Sisters were involved in its capture and disposal. I hurried back down the corridor. The news would be all over the dormitories by tomorrow.
By the time I reached the entrance to the building, evening had fallen. An Oblate was lighting the votive candles at the base of the Star Eater’s statue, murmuring a devotional as she moved from one taper to the next. Tiny white moths fluttered around the open flames. The tiles below were already dotted with the singed wings of the dead.
CHAPTER FOUR
DURING THE NIGHT, a bank of thick cloud rose from below Aytrium and shrouded the city in white. Outside my window, the dark streets glistened with moisture. It was early. The lanterns had not yet been extinguished, and their coloured lights floated like phantoms in the mist.
I rolled out of bed and dressed in civilian clothes. The cool floorboards squeaked under my bare feet; in the neighbouring room, an Acolyte grumbled in her sleep. My quarters were on the third floor of the dormitories—a small bedroom and a private bathroom, filled with second-hand furniture and a few keepsakes I had saved from my mother’s house.
I scraped my wild hair back into a bun. The crack which bisected my bathroom mirror split my reflection in two. I had reported the problem to maintenance soon after moving in, but no one had acknowledged my request for a replacement.
The air outside was cold. I breathed in, clearing my head, and set off toward Pearl Boulevard.
The mist dampened the sounds of the city. In the distance, I could hear the ringing of the second bell. The Acolyte dormitories were situated at the end of Reverence Street, in the Minor East Quadrant. Although I had only been a full Sister for a year, I already knew all the shortcuts to reach the Martyrium. I sidled down a narrow alley between a butchery and a chemist’s shop. Refuse had been left out the previous day, and the air was thick with the smell of spoiling offal. The refuse collectors would arrive before the fourth bell, pick up the scraps and transport them to the worm farms or the swineries outside the city.
A black smear near the base of the butchery wall caught my eye. Someone had scrawled let Aytrium fall across the bricks in charcoal. I paused, then hurried on.
On Pearl Boulevard, everyday noises grew louder: squeaking wagon wheels, boots clicking on cobbles, muted conversation. Figures loomed out of the mist and then faded away.
Rubbing my arms to ward off the chill, I began the steep climb up to Martyrium Hill. Caged fowl squawked and vendors greeted one another. A baby wailed. The Hill constituted the highest level of Ceyrun, rising above the Minor Quadrants, and served as the spiritual heart of the Sisterhood.
Pearl Boulevard ended and I reached the stairs, which were slick with dew. It was still early; I felt a faint shiver as I passed through the lacework net looping the crown of the Hill. Beyond the dawn streets, the world grew quieter once more, and I climbed through the mists alone. A single black bird wheeled through the sky, dipping in and out of sight. My breath emerged from my mouth in pale gusts.
Just for a moment, I considered deliberately slipping on the slick stone steps.
Ahead of me, the domed roof of the Martyrium drew slowly into focus. Although the building shone pearl and ivory in sunlight, today it appeared ashen grey against the fog.
On the plaza before the Martyrium, a huge bronze statue of the Star Eater held her arms up to the heavens. Mother to us all, righteous fire of our people, the first weaver. In the late afternoon, the old woman would grasp the sun, but for now she held nothing at all. I lowered my head in deference as I passed her.
Two junior Acolytes were on duty, standing sentry beside the stained-glass doors of the Martyrium. They gestured acknowledgement when I approached. I raised my arm to reveal the Sisterhood tattoo on my wrist.
“You’re here early, Acolyte,” said the taller woman. “I thought the weather would keep everyone away until at least the third bell.”
“Eater’s grace upon you,” I said, ducking my head. “I only returned to the city last night, but wanted to attend to my duties as soon as I could.”
The two of them exchanged a look.
“Were you part of the Moon Pillar pilgrimage?” asked the second Acolyte.
Rumours spreading already. “I was.”
“We heard…” She glanced at her companion again. “Um…”
“May I go inside?”
“Oh, of course,” she said, crestfallen, and pushed the doors open. “Who will you be visiting?”
“Martyr Kirane Raughn.”
The taller Acolyte made a note in her record book, and motioned for me to enter. “May her dreaming be lit by the Star.”
“May the Star shine brightly on us all,” I replied.<
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Inside, it was cold and still. Flowering vines grew over the entrances to hundreds of alcoves, and skylights cut shafts of pale luminescence through the roof. The marble walls shone bright silver, as if with interior light, and the alcove entrances formed a glittering honeycomb above my head.
I followed the spiralling stairs as they curved up the side of the dome. The air was laced with the fragrance of herbs and incense, but there was a faint whiff of ammonium and iron beneath it all. The smell had always bothered me. On some level, the whole place bothered me, but I could not wholeheartedly hate the Martyrium either. It was too beautiful for that, and too entangled in my understanding of myself.
Outside my mother’s alcove stood a ceramic basin full of water. I washed my hands carefully, taking my time. A scalpel rested on the rim of the basin. Once I was done cleaning, I picked it up.
My mother lay beneath a richly embroidered shroud, her bed pressed up against the far wall of the chamber. The candle beside the door fluttered as I passed. Her face was relaxed; it had an ease that I never saw before her martyrdom.
“Happy anniversary, Mom,” I muttered.
Her chest rose and fell, in and out, in and out. I drew a stool over to the bed and sat down. For a while, I just watched her.
“I saw Reverend Cyde yesterday,” I said. “She’s doing well. She recognised me, which I didn’t expect.”
I straightened the corner of her shroud where it was skewed, aligning it to the edge of the pallet.
“I think that she tried to offer me a job at the Moon House. Which was…” I lapsed into silence. I could hear the chirping of birds outside. “I’d have to leave the city, and I don’t know if I can. Even though the Moon House was very beautiful. And I liked Reverend Cyde.”
And I would have to perform fewer Renewals. I fingered the edge of the scalpel, running my thumb over the blade.
“She said it was a favour to you, and I’m still thinking about it. But I can’t ask Finn to leave Ceyrun for my sake; that wouldn’t be fair to him. And without him or Millie, I’m not sure I could manage the visions, so—”