Grey Sister. Mark Lawrence
Zole shook her head again. ‘It did not happen.’
‘But the bruises!’ Sister Rail banged the table. ‘You think we’re blind?’
‘The evidence does seem compelling.’ Irvone nodded, candlelight glinting on the gold circlet around his hair.
Zole shrugged.
‘This is nonsense.’ Rail looked around the table. ‘We should vote and then the abbess will decide.’
Abbess Glass puffed out her cheeks. There were only two votes that mattered, the rest she could overrule, but if the convent’s two sister superiors united against her the matter would have to go to the archons or the high priest. Such public dissent would weaken her position and Nona would likely be found guilty in any case. ‘Let us vote then.’
‘Guilty.’ Sister Rail folded her arms.
‘Innocent.’ Sister Apple frowned, still watching the novices.
‘I abstain.’ Sister Pan huddled within the range-coat she never removed these days.
‘Innocent,’ Sister Tallow said. ‘If Nona wanted the girl dead she would have cut her head off.’
As Mistress Spirit Sister Wheel could vote first with the other mistresses, but as a sister superior she could also vote last. She waved for the class nuns to vote.
‘Guilty.’ Sister Oak, Red Class mistress, looked down.
‘Guilty.’ Sister Hearth had replaced Sister Flint as Grey Class mistress and had witnessed the worst of Nona’s rages while she struggled to control Keot.
Sister Spire seemed unwilling to speak but at last spoke in a small voice. ‘Guilty.’
‘Innocent.’ Sister Fork of Holy Class smiled encouragingly at Nona.
‘Sister Wheel?’ Abbess Glass inquired.
‘I …’ The older nun goggled at her, jaw clenching and unclenching. ‘I am sure the Chosen One had told us what she saw … but …’ The words seemed to hurt her. ‘She may not have seen everything. And this novice is guilty of many crimes. So I say, guilty.’
‘Sister Rose?’
Sister Rose shifted her bulk unhappily in her chair. ‘I wish you had come to me, Joeli. I have salves that would have helped your poor throat.’ She looked at the abbess, brown eyes glistening. ‘I’m sorry … but I can’t sanction this level of violence against fellow novices, especially in one so talented in battle. What will come next? I—’
‘Joeli didn’t come to you?’ Abbess Glass asked. That didn’t sound like Joeli Namsis at all. The girl would go to the sanatorium with a splinter and try to stay for a week. Especially if she could lay the blame for the splinter at someone else’s feet.
‘No.’ Sister Rose shot the novice a sympathetic look. ‘That was unreasonable of me. She couldn’t be expected to brave an ice-wind in her condition. But if she had sent word I would have come. Sister Rail really should have told me.’
‘Why would you not seek Sister Rose’s attention?’ Sister Apple stood from her chair and advanced on Joeli.
‘I didn’t want to bother—’
‘You’re bothering all of us now, Joeli. You bothered Mistress Academia before lunch. And yet you didn’t present yourself to our own sweet Rosie to ease your suffering?’ She stalked around the novice, peering at her neck. ‘Show me your hands.’
Joeli instinctively hid them in the pockets of her habit. Apple reached out and took the closest one, pulling it towards her face, palm up. ‘Come.’ She led the novice to the table, holding the hand towards the candles. ‘See?’
‘I see four fingers and a thumb.’ Judge Irvone covered a yawn.
Sister Apple ignored him. ‘This yellow staining here. Do you see it?’
Abbess Glass leaned forward. The girl’s fingers were faintly yellow here and there, the colour of an old bruise almost faded from sight.
‘Wodewort and burn-cotton. Careful preparation with an alkali base gives you Ulhen’s ointment.’ Sister Apple released Joeli’s hand.
Sister Rose scraped her chair back and came to see. ‘It has a role in the treatment of some chronic skin conditions but you have to be pretty desperate to use it. The main side-effect is severe bruising.’ She stepped back and looked Joeli in the face. The novice bowed her head. ‘Oh, Joeli! You didn’t?’
‘She choked me.’ Joeli spoke softly and without conviction, staring down at her hands.
‘I’ve a pill that will get the truth out of you soon enough!’ Sister Apple turned to make for the door.
‘Stay.’ The abbess raised her hand. ‘Potions and pills have no role at convent table. We have no evidence of their accuracy nor Church sanction to rely on such.’ She ignored Apple’s raised eyebrows. Sometimes the nun’s enthusiasm for her own works overrode common sense. Such cards were not to be revealed or played over novices and before an audience like Irvone Galamsis. ‘I will say, however, that it seems impossible that we condemn Novice Nona to any harsh punishment on the basis of what we have seen and heard. Both of you girls are confined to convent this seven-day, and the next, and neither of you will eat lunch until the seven-day after that. If there is any more fighting between you I shall be asking Sister Tallow to break out the wire-willow. Now go. And count yourselves lucky! Run!’
The novices hastened to the door. ‘Not you, Zole.’
Zole turned as the other two vanished through the doorway. For a moment she seemed to be considering whether to obey. Then with a shrug she closed the door and returned to the table.
‘So, to your business, Irvone,’ Abbess Glass said. ‘You came with a petition concerning Novice Zole.’
‘Indeed. Once more I come seeking the return of a novice.’ He inclined his head, full of gravitas, consulting the notes his assistant had set before him. It had always amused Glass quite how closely the judge resembled the statues and images the heretic Scithrowl made of the Ancestor. The mane of his white hair and blade of his nose making him seem wisdom incarnate rather than the most corruptible of Verity’s three high court judges. Irvone cleared his throat. ‘Fortunately on this occasion the novice is to be returned to the bosom of her loving family rather than to her appointment with the gallows.’
‘And the loving family in question would be …’
‘Our own esteemed royal family!’ Irvone smiled. ‘Young Zole is to be returned to House Lansis itself, and the arms of her mother, the honourable Sherzal.’
A low mutter ran the length of the table. Sister Wheel struggled to contain her outrage, and failed. ‘The Argatha belongs to the Church! She’s not some royal toy!’
The judge kept his eyes on Abbess Glass, ignoring Wheel’s outburst.
‘The emperor’s sisters have standing invitations to visit the convent any time they like,’ Abbess Glass said. ‘I would be delighted to discuss this matter in person with Sherzal.’
Irvone forced a smile and spread his hands. ‘I fear the honourable Sherzal is uncertain about the nature of her welcome after the wild slanders spread at court at the time of the convent’s … unfortunate loss.’
‘Certainly she would be still more welcome if she came visiting with the shipheart that was stolen from us. But we’re hardly likely to take the emperor’s sister prisoner or raise our hands against her, are we, Irvone? We are brides of the Ancestor, pledged to peace.’ She gestured at the stern faces around the table. Sister Tallow in particular looked no more than a blink from killing someone.
Irvone glanced around the seated nuns with a nervous frown. ‘That’s as maybe, abbess. However, Sherzal is within her rights to demand the return of her child.’
‘Her ward,’ Abbess