The Fire Sisters (Brilliant Darkness 3) (22 page)

Nuria—at least I assume that’s her name from what Grimma said—checks on me a few times, changing my bandage and bringing me lunch. She’s gentle and quick, but she barely speaks, other than muttering to herself once about needing to go out into the forest to collect more hoof-root, a mossy plant I know Marj used to reduce swelling. The healer says so little I dub her Sister Speechless.

Rain begins to fall by mid-afternoon, beating overhead, and the air inside turns humid and chill. To take a break from pacing, I open the door and wander outside to the sheltered porch.

Although the rain clears out the irritating smoke from the Eternal Flames, it doesn’t douse the actual fire. It burns down the hill from our quarters. I don’t hear anyone or anything else out here, but the guards could be taking shelter, assuming any potential mischief-makers would be, too.

Hmm
. Could I make my way to the wall and get the attention of one of the men outside? Are they staying close, as Peree said they would? Even if they are, is it worth the risk? Jaw clenched and heart thumping, I walk to the top of the stairs, counting my steps.

“What do you need, Initiate?” a woman asks.

I jump back, jerking my neck and sending shooting pain through my torso and head. The woman is so close I could probably touch her. Has she been standing here ever since I came outside? I didn’t hear her at all. Swallowing hard, I put my hand over the wound on my neck, willing the pain away.

“
Um
, no. I’m fine. Only getting some fresh air.”

“I can bring you to Nuria if you need her. If not, it would be best for you to return inside.”

A guard. Which most definitely makes me a prisoner. It’s not that I didn’t know that before, but before today, it’s always been Grimma. This woman confirms the Sisters are watching us very closely.

Frustrated that a few paces was as far as I got in my poorly thought out impulse to reach the wall, I go back in and curl up on my bed. The damp creeps in as I lie there, making me glad for the thick blanket. In another part of the room, water splats maddeningly to the floor at regular intervals.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

My eyes close, and I dream I’m running through the forest, a bowl of fire cupped in my hands. Women run all around me. We must get away… but who—or what—are we running from?

Seemingly a moment later, Amarina’s electrified voice drags my eyes open again.

“I saw Ellin!”

“And the rest of the children!” Frost says, “We passed the children’s compound on the way to the gardens.”

Dragging a hand over my eyes, I sit up. “How did they look?”

“Heavily guarded,” Kai answers. Usually her voice is either flat or angry. Now she sounds… depressed.

I hesitate, and then ask, “Are you all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Ignore her
. “So you were able to see the children’s compound?”

“It is well guarded, as Kaiya said.” Amarina’s voice loses its enthusiasm. “It has its own stone wall and sturdy gate. Inside is a rectangular building, but we could not see much else.”

“Grimma told us they have gardens,” Frost says. “And birds. We could hear them squawking in there.”

“The Teachers kept them in a cage.” There’s a slight tremor in Kai’s voice.

“There were at least three guards outside, patrolling the walls,” Amarina says. “Fully armed. And a few more went inside with the children.”

“That Teacher was with them, too,” Frost says. “The one that was there when the girls fought each other.”

Too many Sisters
.

Kai walks into the front room without another word. I sigh. She’s as much of a mystery to me as the Lofties and their treetops ever were.

Grimma comes in a few minutes later. “Dinnertime.”

Frost moans and mutters, “I just started to dry out.”

I keep my head down as we hurry through the dark and the rain. Peree and the other men must be miserable. Starting a fire at night to stay warm would be too risky with the Sisters and the ants around.

We’re passing through the great hall, a clump of women chatting on both sides, when someone grabs me.

“Hold it.”

I trip to a stop as everyone around us quiets.

“Thank you for coming to my aid yesterday,” the woman says. “I am Fia.”

“You’re welcome,” I say. “I’m happy I could help.”

“How is your neck?” she asks.

“Not bad. Sister…” —I almost say
Speechless—
“
er,
Nuria’s done a great job treating it.” Flattery can’t hurt.

Fia thumps me on the back. “I am glad to hear it. You have my gratitude, Fennel.”

Usually the Sisters call me
Initiate
or
you there.
This was the first time anyone other than Grimma has called me by name. And from the way she says the word
gratitude
, she’s offering me something of weight and value. My smile is sincere as we move on to collect a plate of food.

The whole meal, I pray Adar will again ask for a volunteer to tell a story. When she finally does, I’m the first on my feet.

“Do not tax yourself, Initiate,” Golnar says from the front of the room, where Adar usually sits. “Someone else will entertain us.”

Golnar’s words are thoughtful, but her tone tells me my well-being isn’t what’s motivating her. Sisters around the room grumble, giving me courage.

I stay standing. “I’d like to tell this one.”

“Initiate, I said—”

Alev interrupts Golnar. “She wants to tell her story, and our Sisters want to hear it.”

Golnar doesn’t argue, but I can almost feel the anger in her silence.

I make my way to the front. Once there, someone takes my hand. I can’t tell who it is—most of the Sisters smell of the Eternal Flames, making it difficult to tell them apart.

“You were very courageous yesterday,” Alev says. “All the Sisters are speaking of it.”

“I only gave Fia a little extra time to get to the ladder.”

“Yes, but time is one our most precious resources. Some receive more than others, fairly or unfairly.”

I think of Eland. “I guess that’s true.”

“We believe that when someone gives another person the gift of more time—life—that Mother Asis is working through them. That they are blessed. So it is a gift to you as well.”

I don’t quite know what to say to that. I pray sometimes, but it’s usually to the stars, a habit I picked up from Aloe and some of the other elders. I wouldn’t know if Mother Asis walked in the next minute, much less if she blessed me or not. But I can tell Alev means well.

“Thank you.” I squeeze her hand, and she squeezes back. She reminds me a little of Kadee, which sends a jolt of homesickness through me.

“Let her get on with her story,” a Sister says.

“Yes. Of course.”

She drops my hand and sits back down, leaving me the floor. The Sisters are waiting.

“My tale tonight is of the first fires,” I say.

Inspired by my conversation with Grimma, and then my dream, I made this one up myself as I ate. With a calming breath, I begin.

“Fire has been part of the world since the beginning of time, when the old ones came out of the ground and created it, along with water, earth, and air. Fire belonged only to the sky at first. The moon cradled it in her arms, the sun sprinkled it on the earth, and the clouds flung it down in furious fits of temper. Sometimes, the ground caught the fire it was thrown, but it burned for its curiosity.

“Over time, men trapped little bits of the old ones’ fire. They learned to create and control it, becoming fire starters. But they held the secrets of fire for themselves, guarding it jealously. Women were not thought strong enough, worthy enough, to wield its power. They were only allowed to creep close at night, warming themselves with the last, dying embers.”

I hear a few grunts and growls of disapproval, but I’m used to them now. I don’t rush on. Instead, I take my time.

“One day, a woman said it was enough. She decided to take her man’s fire and run away with it. She whispered her plan to other women as they were cooking and washing. She told them that they, too, could be fire starters. And one dark night, when storms crackled and hummed in the air, she persuaded the last of the women to go with her. Silently, carefully, they collected the fires into stone bowls, using its light to guide them as they led their children deep into the forest. The men soon realized what the women had done. Outraged they could be so deceived, they went after them, shaking their spears and screaming into the stormy night. The women were frightened, so they ran faster.”

“Cowards,” a Sister says. “They should have killed the men and stayed right there in their warm homes.” Cups thump the tables in agreement.

I hold a hand up. “The women
were
afraid, but they did not give up. Instead, they used their bowls full of flames to set the bushes and trees ablaze. The men came, violence in their eyes, but they were met with a fuming wall of fire. They could not pass through or go around it; they could not reach the women and children on the other side. They returned home, cold and hungry, for they had no flames to warm them and no fire on which to cook their food.”

The Sisters bang their cups again, satisfied with this ending. But I’m not finished.

“The women were now the fire starters. Far away from the men, they made their homes and used the fire to cook and keep themselves and their children warm. But when visitors happened into their village, they did not share the fire with them. They worried its power would be stolen. Over time, hoarding the fire was all they could think of; protecting it all they knew how to do. Eventually, in a fit of jealous suspicion, they doused all the flames so no one, man
or
woman, could ever steal it again.”

I pause and bite my lip, hoping my message might be getting through.

“The women could have shared the fire with others, allowing its warmth and light to spread across the forest for all to enjoy. But they did not. They chose to huddle in the dark and the cold, muttering over their cold cook pots and cursing the black night. They ignored the lessons of their past, and, in doing so, lost the very treasure they sought to keep.”

My hands clenched tightly in front of me, I wait for their reaction. Did I go too far? Touch too close to home? There’s only silence at first, but then the pounding and clapping starts, as enthusiastic as ever.

“Thank you, Initiate,” Adar says, sounding as if she’s dismissing me.

I smile. “Thank
you
for allowing me to tell my stories. And for taking us in, so we can be near our daughters. I didn’t expect to be so well fed and kindly treated.” I pause.” “Nuria mentioned today that she needs more hoof-root. To show my appreciation, I’d like to help find it in the forest.”

Silence again. I imagine Adar and the others examining my words for signs of dishonesty.

“How would
you
look for it?” Golnar asks.

“I have a better sense of smell than most. You’ll have noticed that hoof-root has a strong scent?”

Strong is an understatement. If we hurt ourselves playing as children, Marj would pack handfuls of the stuff around our wrists or ankles or whatever. We hated it because it smelled like, well, feet. Reeking ones. The odor is pretty hard to miss.

“Of course,” she growls.

“I can find it,” I say.

“I don’t like it, Adar.” Golnar keeps her voice low, but I pick up her words just fine. “The Initiates should stay inside the walls until we are sure they can be trusted.”

“She wants to be of service, Golnar,” Alev says. “Is that not what we try to shape and encourage in the Initiates? Isn’t that what we want for the future of the Cloister? This one was willing to risk her safety, even her life, for Fia. She has proven herself.”

“Don’t start with your talk of the future,” Golnar says. “The word rubs my ears raw.”

“We must all have our eyes
and
ears on the future. It belongs to our daughters. But with our outdated ideas about—”

“Enough.” Adar says, as if this is an argument she’s heard many times before and would be pleased to never hear again. “Take the Initiate to gather in the forest tomorrow, Grimma. Take them all.”

Golnar protests, but Adar interrupts.

“The girl is Sightless,” the leader says. “What harm can she do?”

I keep my face blank as I run my hand back along the wall to our table.
She’ll find out.

Will one of the men be nearby? How will we get away from the Sisters to talk to him? Once the men are warned, how long will we have before the boys are traded? And then what? How will we break out of here? A dust storm of unanswerable questions spins through my brain, leaving only a fine layer of doubt in their wake.

I’m not the only one who can’t sleep. Near midnight, I’d guess, Kai gets out of bed and walks into the front room, her footsteps heavier and more deliberate than Amarina or Frost’s. I figure she’s getting a drink of water or something, but she passes right through the other room and out the front door, closing it with a soft click.

She could want some air.

Or she could be going somewhere.

I slide out of bed, pulling my blanket around me against the chill. Tiptoeing from the bedroom into the front room isn’t that simple when you’ve barely had a chance to memorize a floor plan. I jam my big toe into something solid and have to bite down on a squeak of pain.

When I reach the dark, drafty front room, I hesitate. Should I follow her outside? That guard was watching our quarters closely this afternoon; one is bound to see Kai now. She’s going to get us in a lot of trouble if she’s caught, and I’ll only make it worse if I go out, too. Grimma made it clear with the hard labor that a transgression by one of us will result in punishment for all. I should stay put, but… I’m burning with curiosity. Somehow, I don’t think Kai’s taking the air in the middle of the night. She’s up to something.

I hurry to the front door and put my hand against it. It shifts a bit; it’s not quite closed. There’s a tiny gap, about the width of my pinky finger, wide enough that the glow of the Eternal Flames outside illuminates the crack. I press my ear to it.