The Gatherer (Brilliant Darkness 2.5) (4 page)

The thought disturbs me more than it should.

The Restless snakes away into the distance b
elow and to our right, 
ending at the Shivering Sea. The rising sun paints a shimmery layer on its surface. The river
 is the thread that connects the bits and pieces of the land: the low mountains behind us to the west where Koolkuna can be found, the plains to the south, and the jagged peaks to the north. Delicious sips of all can be tasted from here.

The Cloister perches on a hill overlooking the coast, a gem atop this crown of beauty. The compound is protected by the Eternal Flames on one side, the almost vertical, bare slope of a mountain on the other, and high rock walls connecting the two imposing features, built by my Sisters of old. Pride warms me as I survey the roofs of our solid stone houses and neat gardens, still tiny with the distance. There is no doubt whom Mother Asis has blessed with safety, security, and prosperity.

I point to my home. "We will arrive in time for breakfast."

Kaiya’s stomach rumbles.

We descend from the platform on a swinging rope ladder—a long, tense climb that she makes bravely—and begin to walk uphill toward the walls of the Cloister. Although her father couldn't be near, I can't help but glance behind me regularly. His dark, earnest gaze presses on my back.

The Eternal Flames—a wall of natural fire that never dies out, even in storms—rise from a fall of rocks near the top of the hill. The sky above it wavers through the fumes. My eyes begin to water, the air smells acrid, and my lips feel oily—the familiar sensations of home. The Flames are a reminder of the perseverance of my Sisters.

The fire meets the end of the Cloister’s western wall, leaving no gap. Staying a respectful distance away, we turn the corner and make for the gate some distance along the wall.

"Alev?" a voice calls from above as we approach.

I shade my eyes against the sun peeking over the wall. It is Brande, a Sister a few years older. I wave.

"Open the gate!" she calls.

Six massive greenheart tree trunks, lashed together and mounted on the wall to serve as the entrance, are pulled open just enough for us to enter. I greet the guards who wait to push the gate closed.

All Sisters share the various duties of maintaining the Cloister, but we have unique responsibilities, too. I am a Gatherer. Brande is a guard. I wonder if my role will change once Adar becomes our leader. She may have other plans for me.

I guide Kaiya in.
Her gait is more fluid, the set of her shoulders looser; the sting I gave her the night before fades. I am glad. She has had to endure more exposure to the venom than she should. 
She shudders as the gate slams shut, and doubt shoots through me again.

Brande descends the wooden ladder gracefully. Her curly black hair is pulled back, making the perpetually fierce expression on her thin face even more severe. She eyes the girl.

"Congratulations—you were successful. Were there any difficulties?"

"No." I keep my face impassive as I lie. "Where is Adar?"

"She is with Niran in the great hall. You should not delay." We are not given to shows of emotion, but there is sadness and sympathy in Brande’s eyes. I nod my understanding.

The majority of the compound lies a good bit north of the Eternal Flames, over the crest of the hill we move up now. The hill provides our home with a natural protection from the fire, but the Flames' smoky fingers reach every corner. As Kaiya and I reach the top, the Cloister spreads out below us.

The grounds follow the contours of the plateau, rising and falling gently between the eastern and western walls, the northerly mountainside, and the Flames behind us. Patches of determined grass grow sporadically around the silvery white stands of powder trees.

The great hall, where we take our meals and hold gatherings, sits at the highest point of the Cloister, close to the western wall. Large and circular shaped, it is constructed from the same gray rock as the outside walls, mined from our mountain. The long, low kitchens lie next to and behind the hall, and the laundry and armory buildings are down the next hill. Homes of various sizes spread out beyond that. The training grounds and our destination, the children's compound, lie out of sight in the center of the complex.

Kaiya drinks in the sights of the Cloister, interest and intelligence flashing in her eyes. She turns to the angry buzzing sound coming from across the top of the hill on which we walk.

The jewel wasps’ enclosure, covered by a fine mesh, stands in an open stretch of grass. The insects flit in and out of their nests made of mounds of hardened gray-brown mud. They move so fast, they are almost impossible to see.

Covered in emerald and red and about the length of a finger bone, the wasps seem to radiate danger. Only their minder is fearless enough to enter and care for the insects, feeding and milking them for their venom, while wrapped tight in leather to guard against their stings. I am accustomed to the low hum, but some deep instinct of caution always keeps me from drawing too near. The girl jumps when I touch her arm, urging her to move on.

I notice something new as we start down the hill into the Cloister. A small and secluded pyre was built while I was away. It is tucked in beside the eastern wall, sheltered from the sea wind. My steps quicken.

"Well done, Alev. She is a fine, strong girl," Grimma, my old training mistress, yells from the sizeable dirt training ground as we pass. She raises the blunt-ended spear she uses to spar with a new Initiate.

A girl of about sixteen, the Initiate lowers her weapon to gawk at us. Grimma strikes it out of her hands and cautions her not to let her guard down. I snort, remembering how often that happened to me when my focus slipped during training.

We reach the children's compound, a sprawling building with several large rooms used for studying, eating, sleeping, and training. Surrounded by another ring of rock wall, the compound has its own garden, kitchen, well, and even boasts the cage full of colorful birds whose feathers we wear at our waists. W
hen the Teachers allowed it, 
I would sit for hours watching the birds fight and preen, never minding the sharp smell of their guano.

The gate opens at my call, and I deliver Kaiya to the guard inside. Several Sisters are always assigned here. Our daughters are our most precious commodities; they must be protected.

"This is your home now," I tell the girl. "You will be well provided for."

I speak the truth. The Teachers are strict, but our daughters are fed the best of our food, clothed in our finest leathers, and taught the ways of the Cloister and the forest by the Sisters most suited to educate them. They are given the knowledge and skills to defend themselves and their home with honor. What more might a child want?

"My father?" Kaiya asks. Her eyes are streaked with red from the smoke and bright with unshed tears. They hold a single question:
will I see him again?

I shake my head.

Grief spills down the girl's cheeks as the guard leads her inside. I did my duty in bringing her here. Is it possible I have not done right?

I wash my hair and skin using a bucket of water, change my clothes, and jog back to the great hall. A meal must wait.

Golnar, the Sister responsible for the security of the Cloister, sits on the steps of the hall polishing her blade. She looks like she drank a cup of cold, bitter tea when she sees me. I step past her without a greeting.

The enormous fireplace that lights and heats the high-ceilinged hall is cold and dark now. Tables and chairs that normally fill the round room have been moved aside, making space for a wide pallet.

On the pallet, a handsome woman lays, eyes closed. I only catch a glimpse through the throng of Sisters around her. They will continue to gather as the end draws near. We will all witness the passing of our leader.

Adar sees me as I come in, her mane of dark-brown hair shimmering as she turns her head. I cannot help smiling when I see her; I am so proud of her. She gestures me to her side.

I stand beside my sister and look down at Niran. Silvery streaks set off her dark hair. Deep wrinkles of pain are etched into the skin around her eyes and across her forehead. Her shoulders and chest seem withered. Behind her eyelids, her eyes are a strange alchemy of green and gold. Much like Adar's. Much like mine.

Should I feel something other than a vague sense of regret at the passing of our mother? I admired Niran. She was a strong leader, as Adar will be, but I barely knew her.

Niran was a Gatherer once, like me. From what little I heard, one endless, warm, gold-and-red autumn she was away from the Cloister much longer than expected. When she returned, she brought not a Gathered daughter but two girls in her belly. She would not speak of how Adar and I came to be there. The other Sisters only knew that she chose to return to the Cloister and deliver her babies here. Twin girls, born rather than Gathered. Surely a rare gift from Mother Asis.

After weaning, Niran gave Adar and me to the Teachers, and we saw little more of her than any of the other girls.

There were times as a child that I longed for . . . something. Comfort, maybe. The Teachers were not known for their tenderness.

I would crawl into the attic of the children's home and out the neglected hole between the rafters and the roof. Never daring to go farther, I'd lie on my stomach along the top of the cool wall surrounding our small compound, hoping for a glimpse of Niran. I rarely saw her, but when I did, the thrill of it sang in my bones for days after.

The years went by, and I stopped watching for her, stopped hoping she would come for me. I grew up. And I had Adar.

She will be our new leader, and I will be by her side, helping her defend and advance the Cloister for the next generation of girls kept safe behind the thick walls. Girls like Kaiya.

The deathwatch continues through the day. All one-hundred or so of the Sisters, save a few who cannot leave their posts, stand by Niran's pallet for hours.
P
latters of bread and meat are passed, but l
ittle is consumed.

A fire is lit as the mourning sun withdraws. The flames cast a glow over my mother's face, giving her the appearance of warmth and health. It is a trick. Any life left in her ebbs away and by full night is gone.

Our leader releases her last breath, and eyes turn to Adar. My sister's chin is on her chest; her lips move silently around a prayer to Mother Asis. After a long moment, she lifts her head.

There is something different in her face now—a steely confidence, a fulfillment of a purpose—that I have not seen before. She seems to grow taller in the span of moments.

"Wrap her body," she says to the others. "Bring it to the pyre. Alev, come with me."

Outside, the stars are flecks of precious metal ground by the moon and flung into the night sky to alleviate the darkness of its lonely journey. As we draw near the pyre, the pungent scent of the cut wood brings memories of my own travels alone in the forest. Although I just arrived, I suddenly long to be outside these walls, exploring and answering only to myself again.

It is a fleeting feeling. Adar and my Sisters are my family, and my place is here with them.

Adar touches the waiting wood and releases a long breath. I realize she is frightened—frightened but resolute. Only a few years ago we cried in our beds after the Teachers chastised us for some mistake or another. Everything has changed.

"I need your help, Alev.”

I search her beloved face. Does she question my loyalty?

"There are many who would have liked to see Golnar take over," she says. "They fear change, new ideas."

"Perhaps, but Niran made her choice."

Uncertainty twists her lips. “I agree with you that the Cloister should not be so isolated from the rest of the world, but I can't alienate those who don't approve. I have to appear neutral. 
You 
must be our mouthpiece with the Sisters and push for the changes we desire."

I touch her hand. “I will do anything I can.”

A small smile dances across her mouth and disappears again as footsteps shuffle toward us. Her shoulders straighten.

"I am ready,” she says softly.

The others bear Niran’s body among them. Wrapped in soft linen, it glows faintly in the moonlight. Adar and I help place her on the pyre, and a torch is brought forward.

The wood catches fire, sending the first tendrils of flames around my mother’s body. Her spirit can now join Mother Asis in her home in the sun. Her soul is set free.

The flaming arms of the fire reach to the sky, its smoke mingling with that of the Eternal Flames, and my thoughts unexpectedly turn to Kaiya and her father. It's hard to deny that he loved and cared for her, or that she loved and missed him in return.

The Cloister needs daughters, but I fear the haunted eyes of other Gathered girls following my footsteps for the rest of my days. Perhaps I only need time to forget this Gathering. Perhaps.

Busy with the work of helping Adar establish herself, I have little time to consider Kaiya or her father. Except at night. I think of them at night, while my sister breathes lightly across the room, and sleep will not come.

The Teachers take their evening meals and share snippets of information about the girl. She is not called Kaiya; they never learned her given name. They feel the daughters adjust to the Cloister more easily with a new name, one like our own.

"A good student," says one Teacher.