The Fire Sisters (Brilliant Darkness 3) (19 page)

I change the story for this telling. Instead of a girl who takes advantage of three bears, it’s a bear that takes advantage of three girls. It sits in their chairs, eats their food, and falls asleep in their beds. In answer, the girls kill the bear and mount its head on their wall.

The Sisters love it, as I thought they might. They bang their cups on the table even harder than the night before. A few yell for more.

“You seem to have a bottomless basket of entertaining tales,” Alev says.

“I’ll tell another tomorrow night, if I’m allowed.”

“Yes, Adar,” a Sister nearby says. “We’re tired of the same old yarns.”

“Very well.” Adar sounds bored.

“Thank you.” I swallow and tug on the ends of my hair. “Then I… I have a request.”

The Sisters are quiet, listening.

“We hoped to speak to our children today, but we didn’t have the chance. We’d like to tomorrow.”

“They are being well cared for,” Golnar says coldly.

“I’m sure they are,” I say. “But we came a long way and are sacrificing a great deal to ensure their safety. We only want to be sure they’re well.”

“Joining the Cloister is an honor, not a sacrifice,” she snaps.

I have a few choice words I could say to that, but instead I bow my head and keep my mouth shut.

“I did say they could, Adar.” Alev’s voice is mild.

There’s a weighty silence. I picture Adar sitting between Golnar and Alev as they tug on her arms.

“Arrange it with the Teachers, Alev,” Adar finally says.

A chair scrapes back, making a harsh noise against the stone floor, and someone stalks away, feet slamming on the floor. I’ll bet ten knuckles it’s Golnar. I return to my seat, keeping my head down to hide a smile behind my thick curtain of hair.

That night, as I lie in bed, I think about the Sisters. They seem more
reasonable
than I thought they would be. Yes, they steal children, use wasp venom to control people, and probably tried to kill us by breaking the boards of the bridge. I really thought there was a fair chance we’d be shot or speared while standing outside the Cloister gate.

The surprise is that life in the Cloister isn’t so different from Koolkuna or from home. Is there a chance we can understand each other?

Grimma sighs. “I will spar with you again, Fennel. Not to worry. You’ll have plenty of time to master this.”

Her words are kind, but she’s crazy if she thinks she can mold
me
into a warrior, no matter how long I have. I go back to doing my best not to maim anyone.

I’m melting by the time we wrap up our training. I lean against the fence around the training ground, guzzling lukewarm water and listening to the last of the Sisters run through their daily exercises.

“Ah, here they come,” Grimma says.

Something clatters to the ground at my feet. I grope around for it—a training spear. Amarina’s voice shakes as she thanks me and takes it back.

“From time to time, the Teachers allow our daughters to display their combat skills,” Grimma says. “Adar has given her consent for them to do so today. Being new, your daughters will be present to watch and learn only. We will sit there to watch, and they will be there,” her voice moves, as if she’s turning, “at the far end of the training grounds. But you will, as promised, see them.”

My smug confidence from last night scuttles away. I wanted to
talk
to Kora, Darel, Thrush, and the other children. Maybe give them a hug, show them we’re here. I can’t even see them.

We’re hustled out of the training grounds and onto what feels like some kind of fixed stone bench, where I sit between Kai and Amarina. Grimma and Frost sit behind us. There are rustlings and murmured conversations as Sisters take seats all around. My leg bounces up and down.

Grimma leans forward, whispering in warning. “The exercises are for the girls and their Teachers. We are here as observers only. Do not interfere.”

Amarina is as still as the air before a storm. I know exactly when the girls appear, because she stiffens.
Please let them be okay.

“Do they see us?” I whisper.

“It’s hard to know. They are far enough away that we might appear the same as the other Sisters to them. Or perhaps they were told not to speak or react.”

“How do
they
look?”

“Pale and thin.” Frost’s voice is choked. “And afraid.”

The Sisters whisper together, too. They seem to be pointing out this girl or that one, saying how well built or strong she looks, how one or the other has grown. They sound proud… like mothers.

“Come forward, daughters,” a woman says from somewhere inside the training area, her strong voice whipping to us in the breeze. She has the same biting accent as the other Sisters. The quiet conversations around me stop. “You will use staffs.”

“Yes, Teacher,” two girls shout in unison. From their voices, I’d say they might be a couple of years younger than I am, perhaps on the verge of becoming Initiates themselves.

“
Real
knives?” I ask Amarina.

“Yes.” She sounds dismayed.

There’s silence at first, and then the sound of cautious movements. The girls’ feet sidle and slide in the dirt, seemingly darting in one direction, then another, testing each other. Finally, there’s a sudden flurry of footsteps, and high-pitched battle cries split the air, making me jump.

More quick steps. Another pause. A girl grunts, sounding like Kai when she thrusts her spear at me. There’s a thump, as if her opponent leapt away, landing hard.

The bout goes back and forth, with one girl first sounding like she’s on the attack, then the other. After a particularly vicious-sounding skirmish, one of them cries out in pain. I wince. The Sisters around us cheer.

“Nicely done, Vesta,” the Teacher calls. “Good form and patience.”

“Thank you, Teacher.” The girl’s voice is flat, emotionless, like Adar’s. It’s impossible to tell if she’s proud of herself—or ashamed.

I cringe at the thought of the loser cut or bleeding, in pain, and how terrible it would feel to be the victor, forced to injure what very well might be a friend. When Groundling children train with weapons, they always use wooden training knives and spears, like Grimma had us use. They would never be allowed to harm one another to show off their skills. A chill passes over my damp, cooling skin. The Sisters obviously have very different ideas about raising children than we do.

“Grimma,” I ask, half-turning, “why don’t they use training weapons?”

“The older girls must learn how it feels,” she says.

“How
what
feels?”

“To survive pain… and to cause pain for others. Only then will they be ready to protect themselves, each other, and the Cloister.”

I turn around again, gritting my teeth against what I’d like to say. She might be right about
adults
, but these are
children
.

The Teacher calls out two more girls, who fight with staffs this time. They sound younger than the last pair when they greet their teacher. Their grunts and strikes as they begin to spar make me curl into myself, as if I’m on the receiving end of their blows.

One girl lands a vicious-sounding hit, her staff cracking against her opponent’s body. The girl must fall, because the Sisters shout and cheer again, and the Teacher congratulates the winner. She calls out other pairs of girls to fight, and the bouts almost all end with someone being hurt, sometimes seriously, from the sound of it. A healer is called on more than once.

“Younger girls, come forward,” the Teacher finally says.

Amarina leans forward, her body tense as a bowstring. Her breathing ratchets up, and she clenches my hand. Ellin, Kora, and the other girls from Koolkuna must be in this group.

Thankfully, they don’t fight each other. The Teacher only takes them through a set of exercises that sound very similar to the ones we do. I hear Kora’s small voice at one point, fierce and determined, and tears jump to my eyes. The Teacher tells them she’s pleased as they finish.

“And that concludes our exercises,” she says.

The Sisters around us clap and thump their spears.

Amarina jerks into life beside me. “Is this the only chance we will have to see them, Grimma? Can we not speak to them?”

“This is all Adar would allow,” Grimma says. Is that a note of regret in her voice?

Amarina tears her hand out of mine and leaps to her feet. “Ellin! Ellin, I am here!”

“Mama?” a young girl calls out from the training ground. Then, close to tears, she yells, “Mama! Mama!”

With a grunt, Amarina is suddenly back on the seat beside me, as if she was pulled down.

“You do not have permission to speak to them!” Grimma growls.

“But this is not right!” Amarina says. “I want to speak to my daughter!”

A knife is unsheathed behind us.

Frost gasps. “
Don’t
, Amarina! It’s not worth being stung! There’s nothing you can do!”

From the suddenly frozen set of Amarina’s body, and Frost’s words, I’d guess Grimma has a venom-dipped knife at our friend’s neck.

“Amarina—no!” I reach out to her.

“She’s overwhelmed by seeing her daughter, Grimma.” Kai’s voice is serious. “She doesn’t know what she’s doing. Look at her.”

I blink, surprised Kai spoke up for her. The girls must have been hustled away from the training grounds; there are no sounds of them now. We wait silently for Grimma’s reaction.

A moment later, Amarina’s body sags.

“Are you okay?” I whisper.

I hear a quiet
yes
, and I exhale. If she were stung, she wouldn’t be able to speak.

“I was very clear that I do not tolerate disobedience or dissent,” Grimma says. “This was a warning.”

“Please understand,” I say. “She’s terribly worried about her daughter, Ellin. She misses her. It was too much to see the girls but not be able to speak to them.”

“Then she will not see them again,” Grimma says.

“No, that wasn’t—”

“Enough. Back to your quarters.”

Grimma marches us away. Amarina usually guides me, but I take her arm this time. Her movements are jerky and uncoordinated as if she’s in shock.

We walk back up the hill from the training grounds, passing from the harsh, smoky afternoon into the quiet coolness of the stone building. I stand by my friend’s side as Grimma tells us she’ll be back soon to collect us for our chores.

“It was to be light work—weeding in the garden—” our trainer says, “but I think a few hours of physical labor will do you all good.”

My muscles, already sore from training, whimper as Grimma leaves. Kai’s heavy steps move into the back room, and her bed squeaks as she lies down.

“I’m so sorry, Amarina,” Frost says. She goes into the other room, too.

Amarina collapses into a chair, and I sit beside her. I can’t let my mind settle on the children. It’s too painful to think about what they’ve been through, what they might be going through now, what they could experience still.

Wasn’t I just thinking that the Sisters weren’t all that different, despite the sting, the Gatherings, and the fortress walls? But children shouldn’t be forced to fight until they’re bloodied. People shouldn’t be threatened if they disagree with how things are done. None of that is reasonable.

I’ve been trying to understand and relate to the Sisters. I learned from the Lofties that it could be done, even with people who seem very different.

But today, I was reminded how alien these women really are. Finding common ground with them now seems impossible.

As we walk, she tells us a massive, old tree fell against the western wall during a windstorm a few days before we arrived, crumbling part of it. The tree was chopped up and removed, and a few sisters skilled at masonry will repair the wall. Several loads of armful-sized rocks have been mined from a quarry at the side of the mountain on the northern border of the Cloister, and they now need to be transported to the wall to build it up again. We’re the transportation crew.

I realize, as she tells us this, that we’re headed to the damaged section of the wall the others spotted when we were reconnoitering the Cloister. It must be near the end of the wall that joins up with the mountain. Several Sisters are there already when we arrive, discussing what needs to be done. One of them puts us to work lifting and carrying good-sized rocks from the quarry back to the wall, a journey of exactly fifty-four paces. I count them, because there isn’t much else to do other than pant and sweat.

Although the stones aren’t so heavy that I strain to carry them, after a few trips, my back aches, the muscles of my arms feel stretched, and my chest is bruised. The worst part is that despite our efforts, the wall isn’t anywhere near repaired by the end of the day; Grimma tells us we’ll be back tomorrow afternoon,
after
training.

Our punishment isn’t necessarily cruel—if we didn’t do the work, a Sister would—it’s harsh. From the number of times she apologizes, Amarina clearly feels terrible that we’re all forced to share in the misery with her.

We have a quiet dinner in the dining hall among the other Sisters that night and fall into bed. Often I dream when I sleep, but not tonight. I’m spent.

The next day passes in a similar fashion—training, labor, dinner, bed. No music, no stories after dinner. Grimma doesn’t leave us alone for a moment, except at night, and then guards are watching our quarters. We’ve heard them coughing outside every night.

On the third day, as we struggle to carry the stones to the wall—which I’m told is finally beginning to come back together—I find my mind wandering often to Peree as an escape from the suffering. Where is he? Is he safe? I don’t think the Sisters know the men are here. Every night at dinner, I’ve listened for gossip about spotting them near the Cloister. I haven’t heard any.