The Fire Sisters (Brilliant Darkness 3) (17 page)

Thinking about what Kai might remember from the time she spent here as a girl, what she might not be telling us about the Cloister and the Sisters, makes me anxious.

Finishing my bread and water, I set my cup on the floor. “I hope they let us be with the children soon.”

“To see Ellin is only wish,” she says. The pain and hope in her voice tears at my heart.

I reach for her hand. “We’ve made it this far. I don’t know what we’ll do next, but it’s a start.”

Amarina starts to speak, but the front door squeals open, interrupting her. Someone walks through the door, and I turn that way.

“Fennel? Amarina? How did
you
get here?”

I stiffen. “
Shh
… are there any Sisters around?”

She whispers. “One of them escorted me from the healer’s home, but she stayed outside.”

“Healer? Are you okay?”

“She wanted to check me and my hatchling. We’re healthy.”

Hatchling.
Usually the word makes me laugh, but I’ve grown fond of it now.

Amarina interrupts. “Frost, I’m very glad to see you and to know you’re well. But my daughter, Ellin, and the other children
… 
are they all right?” Her voice trembles.

“The Sisters took them somewhere else when we arrived last evening, but they're safe, I think. Grimma says I’m not allowed to be with them anymore.” She sways a little in our arms. “Oh, I need to sit down.”

We help her lower herself into a chair with a small moan; I hover in case she needs help.

“I’ve been on my feet all morning,” she says. “I’m worn out with all the walking the last few days. And it’s… it’s so good to see familiar faces.” She sounds like she might cry, too.

Amarina hurries back over to the table, and water sloshes into a new cup. I sit down in the chair beside Frost, my hand on her arm. Amarina returns, settling in on her other side, and Frost drinks deeply.

“That’s better,” she says. “This whole thing feels like a dream. Or a nightmare.” She draws a quivering breath. “I was minding Thrush while Moon took a nap. Arika and some children came by and asked if we would help gather flowers for your ceremony, Fennel. Thrush wanted to make you a flower necklace. He still feels awful, you know, for telling Breeze you were in the trees when the fire was set back home. He thinks… what happened to your brother… was his fault.”

Guilt and remorse—I’m all too familiar with those twin demons of torment. Poor Thrush. Of course Eland’s death wasn’t his fault. What he told Peree’s grandmother was a single pebble that rolled from a great height, starting an avalanche of misery. But it was only a pebble.

After a moment, Frost goes on. “We were rushing, our arms full of flowers, trying to get back to the village in time. I never saw the Sisters. I only felt the sting. Do you know what that is? Did you see—hear—the wasps outside? Nasty little beasts.”

“Grimma explained,” Amarina says.

Frost shivers under my hand. “Well, the sting was how the Gatherers kept us all quiet. I
swear
there was nothing I could do when the Sisters attacked. I wanted to help the children, but I couldn’t even help myself.”

“I understand, believe me,” I say. “A Sister stayed behind and stung me, too, when we were trying to catch up with you all. They warned us not to follow you.”

“None of this was your fault," Amarina agrees. Bitterness colors her voice.

“One of them hit Arika on the head with the hilt of her knife,” Frost says. “She fell and didn’t move. Is she okay? I mean, probably not, because Kora and Darel were Gathered, but—?”

“She survived,” Amarina says.

“I’m glad,” Frost says. “I liked her.” She takes another drink of water. “The journey here was hard, especially on the children, but they made it. The last I saw of Ellin, Kora, and the others, they were tired, but okay.”

Amarina gives thanks in the first language.

“And the boys?” I ask.

“They took them with the girls. I don’t know where they are now.”

I bite my lip. Finding where the children are kept is our first order of business.

“Are there other Initiates?” Amarina asks.

“Only me. And now you two, I guess. Grimma said the girls train with her when they come of age. And other women from outside want to join the Cloister sometimes.”

“They won’t have us for long,” I say.

There I go, making promises I may not be able to keep.

“What will we do?” Frost asks.

“To be honest, I’m not sure,” I say. “Getting in here was the first step. Now we need a plan to collect the children and escape.”

“It won’t be easy,” she says. “Grimma or another Sister stayed with me every minute today, except when I was in here. There are guards outside, guards on the walls, and guards all around the inside of the compound. They’re everywhere.”

“They’re already suspicious of us, too,” I say. “I think they might just feel confident that we can’t do them much harm, even from the inside. So they're taking a chance.”

Frost sniffles. “When I left my people for Moray, I thought I was going to a… a better place. I never thought I’d end up… somewhere like this…”

She gasps, and tears flow like the Restless River was pent-up inside her.

“I didn’t think… anyone… would come for me. The children, maybe, but not me!”

Amarina and I put our arms around her. Emotions swirl and crash inside of me as she sobs. I didn’t speak to Frost very often in Koolkuna. She was usually with the brothers, which meant I wasn’t itching to spend time with her.

But I remember her spunk the night she rescued Eland and me from her father, Osprey, in the trees after the fire. She had the courage to cross her father, and she knew what she wanted. Unfortunately, that was Moray. Now she sounds like any pregnant sixteen-year-old girl who’s far away from anyone or anything she knows probably should sound: scared.

As I listen to Frost, all of my own fears threaten to overcome me. My chin wobbles, and tears fill my eyes. Before I know it, I’m sobbing, and then, Amarina is, too. We huddle together.

I rarely give myself permission to cry, or even to feel sorry for myself. Tears and self-pity are usually unannounced visitors at my doorstep—unwelcome, yet unable to be turned away. My model of strength, Aloe, never cried. I’ve always equated it with weakness, and she made it quite clear that weakness wasn’t an option for anyone growing up in the harsh forest with the Lofties and the Scourge. Especially anyone Sightless. But Amarina is as strong as Aloe, yet here she is weeping alongside us.

As I’ve been slowly but steadily realizing over the last few months, I don’t have all the same merits my mother did… or the same faults. I don’t need to be exactly like her. I don’t even know that being like her is what she would want for me, or what
I
want anymore.

The three of us stay like that, leaning in together, united in tears. It feels odd—and strangely good—to allow myself to fall apart, without judgment. And like a thunderstorm passing over the forest, our sobs eventually turn to steady, gentle tears, then to snuffling, then to silence. I mop my face with my sleeve, wishing I had something to wipe my nose with; it’s dripping. Frost presses a dry cloth into my hand, and I clean myself up.

Amarina laughs, weak and watery. “Mirii and I are a fine pair of heroes, are we not? We come to free you and the children and collapse in your arms in tears instead.”

“I don’t care,” Frost says. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

“What’s going on?” Kai asks from the doorway to the other room, her voice sleepy and annoyed. “Are you… crying?”

Frost makes a pleased sound. “Kaiya? I didn’t know you came, too!”

“
Surprise
,” she mutters. “Can you all
please
be quiet? I’m sleeping.”

I shake my head as she shuffles back to bed.

“Moray and his brothers, and Derain, Bear, and Peree are outside the walls waiting to hear from us,” I tell Frost in a lower voice. “They’ll help us get out of here if they can.”

I’ve already decided I’ll wait to deliver Conda’s message until she and I are alone.

“Moray’s here?” Frost sounds pleased.

I smile sadly. Poor Conda. It might be too late for him to have a chance. Worry shivers through me again, this time for Peree, Bear, and the others. They could have their hands as full out there as we will in here.

Crying—releasing some of the tension I’ve been holding close the last few weeks—felt really good, cleansing. But now we have work to do. It’s time to learn as much as we can about the Cloister and the Fire Sisters, so we can get the children and get out of here.

When Grimma comes for us, we’re ready.

The sky has darkened, although it’s more difficult to tell the time with the smoke from the Eternal Flames filtering the light. How do the Sisters stand it day after day? Then again, someone might have asked how we bore living under the watchful eyes of the Lofties or spending weeks in the bone-chilling caves avoiding the Scourge. We all do what we have to, I guess.

“When may we see our daughters, Grimma?” Amarina asks as we walk.

“Tomorrow, I expect.” She sounds distracted.

Good
. I’ll feel a lot better when I can hear Kora, talk to her, be sure she and the other children are all right. I don’t know how it will affect them to know we’re here but they can’t be with us. I suppose it will be one more confusing, frightening day in a long line of confusing, frightening days for them.

We pass the wasps’ enclosure as we follow our trainer along the flat, high ground that seems to lead from our quarters to the great hall. The buzzing has died down. Wasps are nocturnal, I remember our teacher, Bream, telling us. They’ll be back at it at first light. I shiver. That enclosure is an armory.

While we talked this afternoon, Amarina described the layout of the Cloister in more detail. She told me our quarters are closest to the corner where the Eternal Flames join the wall that runs parallel to the Shivering Sea. The eastern wall, she decided it was. Which means the Flames burn at the southernmost end of the Cloister. She said there isn’t much near the wall of fire except a small, abandoned stone shelter with no roof. Makes sense—anything but stone will burn.

The wall with the gate and the forest beside it, where we left the men, is the western wall. The great hall and the kitchens sit closer to it. Most of the other buildings within the Cloister—the laundry, the Sisters homes, the gardens, and presumably the children’s compound—nestle in the trees and under the protective shadow of the mountain to the north. She said the place was about twice the size of Koolkuna, not including the Myuna. The map of the Cloister grows in my head.

Amarina and Frost also told me a little more about the Sisters. They said they aren’t painted white, like those who came to Koolkuna. Maybe they only paint themselves when they leave the Cloister? They said the women's hair and skin color is the same mix as might be found among the
anuna
. They do all have the colorful feathers at their waist, which we decided is the mark of a fully initiated Fire Sister. Otherwise, they wear tunics, leggings, and boots similar to ours. They are of all shapes, sizes, and ages, although there doesn’t seem to be any Sister younger than about eighteen.

And the Sisters are armed: spears in their hands, knives at their waists, staffs in a special pouch across their backs. At all times. Bad news.

We walk up the stone steps of the great hall. The doors seem to be open, as the clatter of dishes and the soft din of women’s voices tumble out. It sounds crowded. Amarina said the hall is impressive: roughly round in shape with a ceiling that soars up to a smallish opening at the top to let indoor smoke out and discourage the Eternal Flames’ toxic fumes from coming in. As I suspected, she said all the shelters are made of stone.

I listen to the voices filling the room as we enter, but my attention shrinks to the size of a point—one that’s jabbing painfully into my chest. I yelp, and the room goes silent.

Someone steps so close I can smell her particular scent: the caustic fumes of the Eternal Flames and greenheart sap. What I’d guess is a spear tip taps against my chest bone.

“Who are you?” the woman asks. Her words are a challenge; they tie my tongue.

“F… Fennel,” I finally spit out.

“You’re a
weed
?” she says. The great hall breaks out in laughter, which discombobulates me even more.

“No, an herb.”

“Oh, an
herb
,” the woman says. “My mistake.” More laughter.

I manage to slow my heart and untangle my tongue. “I mean
Fennel
is an herb. And it’s my name.”

“She is one of the new Initiates, Basia,” Grimma says, resting a hand on my shoulder. “Were you not in the Cloister this morning when they arrived?”

“No. Enya and I were in the forest, hunting,” the woman answers. She steps away from me, and my heart begins to slow. “We provided the meat you’re about to enjoy.”

My stomach rejoices at the thought of dinner—and that we didn’t encounter her and her partner this morning. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Basia sounds surprised. “At least she has good manners, Grimma.”

I’m handed a plate of succulent-smelling food, and I follow the others, carefully, to a sturdy wood table.
Frost takes my arm and leads me past rows and rows of tables; I run my hand along them and find their edges with my hip once or twice. 
We must be seated toward the back, because no voices come from behind us.

I don’t worry about the Sisters or anything else for a good ten minutes, not until I devour the thick slab of moist boar, the fresh-cooked vegetables, and every grain of a generous slice of bread. I even savor the grease on my lips.