by Kerstin Hall
A few Sisters hung around the foyer of the hall, mostly Enforcement staff, no one I recognised. The evening was settling in, and a draft of chilled air drew goose bumps from the skin of my arms.
“Fewer members of the Order than I expected,” said Jesane, echoing my thoughts. “Shall we go through?”
The air inside the main auditorium proved colder still, and smelled distinctly musty. The furnishings were sombre: dark wooden benches and grey carpets. A cluster of Heralds and senior civilian officials stood at the base of the amphitheatre, deep in discussion. Other Sisters sat in the first few rows of benches, reading over their notes before the presentations began. I noticed Rhyanon in the third row from the front. Commander Asan leaned against the side of the speaker’s podium. Her gaze hardened when she saw me.
“Is this really it?” Jesane gazed around the room.
I descended the stairs and sidled into a row. “Perhaps the civilian turnout will be higher.”
“If I’d known this was a public grievance forum for the farmers, I would have put up more of a fight with my supervisor. What’s the point of coming all this way if the Head of Water and Sanitation doesn’t even bother to attend?”
She was right—I could not see Verje anywhere. I shrugged. “It seems the Councilwoman didn’t regard the matter as important.”
“You really dislike her, don’t you?”
“She refuses to take any kind of action to save water. I find that disheartening.”
“But also on a personal level, you dislike her.”
I allowed a small smile. “Is it that obvious?”
“Oh, I feel the same.” Jesane sat down and set her notes on the bench in front of her. Her forehead furrowed; I guessed that she was thinking about Verje accompanying Ilva to the carriage. “There’s something not right about her, don’t you think?”
“Not right?”
“Something snakelike. Coldblooded.” She leaned forward, resting on her elbows. “She’s ambitious too, or so I’ve heard.”
“That’s not exactly unusual, though.”
“It is if you’re already a Councilwoman. Where to go once you’ve reached the top?”
I took a seat beside her. “Maybe the esteemed Councilwoman is just late.”
Jesane snorted derisively.
I gazed around the auditorium. Even discounting Verje’s conspicuous absence, the turnout was poor. From the Sisters I knew on sight, they also struck me as an odd mix. Apart from myself, I could recognise no other Acolytes, and no one else from Food Management. No one notable from Judicial Affairs either, which didn’t bode well from a legislative standpoint. There seemed a disproportionate share of Sisters from Civil Obligations and Enforcement, far too few from Water and Sanitation. Why, out of all the Council, should only Commander Asan be present? I drummed my fingers on the bench.
Jesane and I had been amongst the last Sisters to arrive, and now civilians were starting to file inside. They looked grim, grimmer still when they saw the empty auditorium. They had probably expected more than the thirty of us to show up. I cringed. Far from ensuring the goodwill of the farming community, the symposium looked likely to turn them against us.
Then the door opened again and Reverend Jiana Morwin hurried inside. She pushed past the civilians on the stairs, her eyebrows drawn into a frown and her cheeks flushed with exertion.
“Councilwoman Morwin, huh?” said Jesane. “I wonder what’s got her hot under the collar.”
Asan met her at the podium. The Commander’s expression was neutral, but she stood firm when Morwin attempted to step around her. I watched her mouth move. What’s going on, Jiana?
“I think Councilwoman Morwin wants to address us,” I said.
Jesane lifted her head from the bench. “She wasn’t on the agenda for the evening. Maybe something’s come up?”
Asan’s jaw clenched and she stood aside, allowing Morwin to take up the podium. Other Sisters in the room whispered to one another. But I was looking at the Commander, at her tensed shoulders and narrowed eyes, like a caged Cat that smelled blood on the wind.
“May I ask civilians to vacate the hall immediately?” called Morwin.
A ripple of outrage spread through the crowd of farmers. I flinched.
“With haste, please,” said Morwin, her reedy voice faltering. “The symposium has been postponed indefinitely.”
“What is she doing?” I hissed.
“It must be an emergency,” said Jesane, although she looked uncertain.
What emergency? It wasn’t as if the building was on fire. Rhyanon had turned in her seat and caught sight of me. She blanched, then quickly looked away.
“I don’t like this,” I whispered.
Morwin gestured for a Civil Obligations Herald to close the door after the departing civilians. The tramp of feet on the wooden floorboards faded, and she waited until the auditorium grew quiet. Her expression was anxious, her face pinched.
“Thank you,” she said at last, and adjusted the collar of her robes. “I’m sure you’re all confused, so I’ll get straight to the point. Just before I reached Tivaria, I was intercepted by a messenger from the Mud House. According to her intelligence, a mature Haunt has been sighted in the Berai province.”
There were gasps from across the room. My mind reeled. A mature Haunt? But how? Asan rapped the speaker’s gavel against the side of the podium.
Morwin spoke a little louder. “The last communication the messenger received, the creature was headed north-west toward Ceyrun. The messenger makes for the city, and will alert the Order to the threat as soon as she arrives.”
“And the rest of the Mud House?” demanded an Enforcer in the audience.
“They are safe, having evaded the creature’s attention.” Morwin cleared her throat and stood taller. “We, however, are not. As matters stand, Tivaria lies directly in the Haunt’s path. It will most likely be drawn to us.”
My heart rate quickened. It was coming here? The idea seemed faintly ridiculous. How could there possibly be a mature Haunt loose on Aytrium in the first place? Surely there would have been attacks, some earlier indication of its presence, some kind of warning? It could not just appear out of the air.
“You will be divided into three-woman cohorts,” continued Morwin. “We will begin binding every entrance to the building.”
“That would be pointless,” said Asan.
Morwin paused, caught off-guard. She turned slightly. “With all due respect—”
“We don’t have the numbers to fortify a building this large. Not without a lot more lace.” Asan projected her voice so that everyone in the auditorium would hear her. “I’m guessing that none of the Sisters present brought emergency provisions this evening? Which means that even if we succeed in defending the hall temporarily, the bindings won’t last long enough for Ceyrun reserves to reach Tivaria. If a Haunt gets inside the building, Sisters will die.”
“We need only hold the entrances, Commander.”
“If this Haunt is mature, it will come through the walls.” Asan’s tone was brutally matter-of-fact. “Not to mention that staying here would jeopardise the safety of the civilians assembled for the symposium.”
Morwin had gone red in the face.
“It is our only option, Commander,” she said. Her forehead shone with sweat. “Your pessimism is unhelpful.”
“I’m not being pessimistic; I’m stating facts,” said Asan. “And you’re wrong—there are other options. Where in the Berai province was the Haunt sighted, and how long ago?”
“We’re wasting time—”
“Where, Jiana?”
“The messenger was in an understandable hurry; she didn’t stop to brief me on specifics.”
“Then she’s grossly unprofessional.” Asan’s brow furrowed. “All right, we will assume the worst. From the Mud House to Tivaria is about five hours’ ride by Cat, and the Berai province is an hour to the west. If the messenger left the House immediately after receiving intelligence of
the Haunt sighting, then let’s say the creature had an hour’s head start. The Haunt probably moves at two-thirds the speed of the messenger’s Cat. Given the addition of the time between Berai and the Mud House, it should place the Haunt at least an hour and a half behind the messenger. Herald Hayder, are my approximations unreasonable?”
Rhyanon jumped.
“Uh, no, not unreasonable,” she said. “If you factor in a few assumptions, that is.”
“Those being?”
“Well, the relative speed of the Cat, for a start. But also that Reverend Morwin met the messenger in close proximity to Tivaria, that neither the Cat nor the Haunt fatigued, and that neither party made substantial detours along the way.”
“Thank you, Hayder,” said Asan. “So, let’s imagine the absolute worst and say that we have less than an hour.”
“What good can this do?” Morwin burst out. “The Haunt is coming, and we cannot reach the safety of the city in an hour.”
“We think the Haunt is coming.” Asan fixed her with a piercing stare. “You seem curiously convinced of that fact, Reverend Morwin, especially given that one would have expected the creature to head toward the Mud House rather than Tivaria. There is plenty to distract it along the route, far more accessible Sisters to prey on. Why should it fixate on this symposium in particular?”
Morwin’s cheeks grew blotchy, and her mouth shrank like she had tasted something terribly sour.
“But you’re right, we can’t return to Ceyrun in that time,” continued Asan. “As far as I can see, that leaves us with three options. The first is staying here and waiting for the Haunt to arrive.”
“The hall can be defended,” Morwin insisted angrily. “If we don’t waste time with—”
“The next”—Asan spoke right over her—“is dividing into smaller groups and immediately dispersing across the countryside. The Haunt might not be drawn to the scent of individual Sisters with Ceyrun so nearby; it might ignore us altogether. But if that gambit fails, then whichever lone cohort the creature targets will be practically defenceless.”
“You would sacrifice Sisters?” said Morwin.
Asan’s expression turned very cold. “I would sacrifice no one, although I suspect that splitting up would still result in fewer deaths than remaining here.”
“You have no way of knowing that.”
“Our third option is to make for Geise’s Crown.” Asan folded her arms. “If we push the horses, it should take no more than forty minutes. From the higher vantage point, we’ll be able to see the Haunt coming. Instead of binding an entire building, we bind the creature directly. Less lace, more time for reserves to reach us. We light the flares, we wait. No one gets hurt.”
“Unless your calculations are off, and the Haunt reaches us in the open.”
“I am with Commander Asan.”
The auditorium had been listening, rapt, to the Councilwomen’s argument, but now they turned to stare at Rhyanon. She held her head high, and a fierce pride was written across her face as she gazed at the Commander. Asan met her eyes, and returned that expression with equal boldness, the same measure of warmth and challenge and possessiveness.
Oh, I thought, stunned. So that’s how it is.
“I am with the Commander too.” Jesane rose beside me.
I looked around, then also stood up. Morwin glared daggers at us, but I kept my nerve. Around the room, others were rising in turn, until almost every Sister was on her feet.
“I suppose that settles the matter, then,” said Asan.
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE MOON CAST a thin sliver of silver above the southern horizon. The air remained warm, and the sky was dark and hazy. I urged the horses down the eastern track, air streaming over my face. Before we had left Tivaria, Asan had instructed all the civilians to remain inside the hall, including our Ceyrun drivers. Alone, we would take the cabs as far as the old farm roads allowed, then cross the remaining distance on foot.
At another time, I might have enjoyed the rush of the moonlit ride. Fireflies swarmed over the pastures on either side, bright glimmers against the shaded fields. I scanned the landscape. The Haunt could come upon us at any time. Every movement of the grass, every night bird swooping through the air and animal rustling in the dark, felt like a threat. Two carriages rode in front of mine and four behind, with Asan leading the procession. Ahead, the solitary rise of Geise’s Hill loomed over the countryside.
None of it seemed quite real. The appearance of a second Haunt in less than a month put paid to my dim theories about an isolated case of airborne infection; a renegade Sister had to be responsible. But why? One Haunt, one drunken mistake or terrible lapse of judgement, I could understand. The taste of Finn’s kiss lingered in my mouth, his fingers tangled up in my hair. I grimaced. I understood that only too well.
But to repeat the crime, to have sex with two different men while knowing the probable outcome? That could not simply be lust. Someone must have infected these men on purpose.
Asan reached the base of the hill and drew on her reins to slow the horses. I followed suit. The animals huffed, their sides heaving, their coats shining and damp. I wasn’t much of a driver, but Zenza and I had occasionally made field expeditions without a coachman, and I knew the basics. Tonight, the horses were skittish; their ears flicked and they tossed their heads. Whether they smelled something on the breeze or simply responded to our own fear, I could not say. I murmured soothingly and swung down from my perch. The doors to the cabs opened, and Sisters clambered out.
“Quickly,” called Asan.
Someone brushed my hand and I glanced sideways.
“Are you okay?” muttered Rhyanon.
I nodded. “You?”
“Worried. I think…” Her voice faded. “Whatever you do, don’t separate from the group.”
“Got it.”
“Eater, I hope I’m wrong.” She quickened her pace. “Be careful.”
“You too,” I said, as loud as I dared.
Then she was gone. The other cabs had drawn to a halt, and Sisters were climbing the narrow footpath up Geise’s Hill. The fortress at its summit formed a dark rectangle against the star-specked sky. Geise’s Crown. I didn’t know much about the place, apart from the fact that the Order had used it as a rest stop in the days before Tivaria grew prosperous. The hillside rolled with knee-high grass, but from the Crown we would have a clear view of the landscape for miles around.
Asan reached the perimeter wall and stopped beside the rusted old gate. She laid her hand on the bars. A pause, then the lock clicked and the gate swung inwards with a metallic groan.
“Keep moving.” She gestured for the women behind her to file inside. “I want everybody on their guard. We aren’t safe yet.”
I was fairly sure that no one needed to be told, but then I saw Rhyanon hanging back. She allowed other Sisters to pass her, unobtrusively, but in such a way that she would be one of the last through the gate. A stab of anxiety twisted in my stomach. She was watching Morwin as the scowling Councilwoman tramped up the hill toward Asan.
Don’t do anything stupid, I thought.
Asan’s eyes glided over me as I reached the gate, cold and focussed and absolutely unafraid. Standing there, she looked like a painting of a hero from the Order’s past, like Reverend Auvas holding the city walls during the Ash Disciples’ rebellion. The effect was reassuring, but it was probably only a front for our benefit.
The perimeter wall of the Crown stood twenty feet tall and two feet thick, and dead vines clung to the cold stones. Beyond, a narrow stretch of brambles and dry soil ringed the fortress itself. The building had the look of a slab of granite that had been torn out of the earth and moulded roughly rectangular by giant hands. Centuries of rain had worn the stone walls smooth, and the windows gaped like small dark mouths. Four arched bridges ran from the roof to the parapets of the perimeter wall.
“Stop dawdling, Hayder,” snapped Asan.
I glanced back to see Rhyanon reluctantl
y passing through the gate, followed by Morwin and then Asan herself. The Commander closed and locked the gate behind her.
“Right,” she said, clasping her hands together. “We’ve made good time so far, but remain vigilant. I want a watch on the outer wall, eight women on each side. Look out for scorpions and snakes; I don’t know what might be living here these days. Domonis, Lien, you’re in charge of coordinating this.”
Two Enforcer Heralds gestured acknowledgement.
“Hayder, Raughn, Olberos, we’re going to light a signal beacon on the roof. Then we’ll assess how much lace we have at our disposal and—”
“I will be accompanying you,” interrupted Morwin.
Asan breathed deeply, as if she was fighting a losing battle with her temper.
“Of course, Councilwoman,” she replied. “By all means. You’re welcome to assist us in carrying tinder up from the basement.”
I caught the smirks on some of the other Enforcers’ faces. Morwin was none too popular among the Sisters present.
“Yes, well,” the Reverend sniffed, drawing herself up to her full height and trying to salvage her dignity, “please go ahead.”
The main doors stood slightly ajar, and clumps of knifegrass grew between the cracked tiles of the floor. It looked like the interior walls had been plastered once, but swaths of the lime had come away from the stones, leaving long ugly gouges like wounds. Our footsteps echoed. Moonlight fell through the door and cast the room in a bluish, wan light.
Asan removed the hood from a lantern hanging on a hook beside the door.
“The stairs to the basement are on the other side of the fort. Gets pretty dark, even in daylight.” She pulled a tinder box from the interior pocket of her robes, and struck her flint against the steel striker. The tinder caught, and the sudden brightness threw our dim shadows long against the walls.