All Sisters feared three things, and the first was falling pregnant.
Oh, we pretended otherwise. We made a lot of noise about honour and duty and sacrifice, but in the secret heart of every Sister lay the knowledge that conception was the beginning of the end of our lives.
Our second fear was of Haunts. Immortal, insatiable, and vicious: they were difficult not to fear. The appearance of a Haunt also meant that one of us had broken rank, and a renegade Sister was always bad news.
And then we feared rot.
A little over a year ago, my grandmother began to decay. The infection developed from an incision beside her lumbar vertebrae, which went unnoticed until far too late. An inquiry was held, and the blame was pinned on a negligent Oblate.
As soon as I heard the news, I returned to my mother’s house. She had smashed everything, all the plates in the kitchen, bottles, vases; she had torn apart books and clothing; she had ripped the curtains down. In the midst of the wreckage, she stood and glared at me. Her hands bled.
“This wasn’t an accident,” she said.
And that was how, three weeks after my birthday, I became a full initiate of the Sisterhood. My mother never reached the status of Reverend.
I sat beside her now, in the coolness of the Martyrium, feeling sick to my stomach. Helpless. I could not protect her, and as a result, I could not protect myself. How naïve, to assume that martyrs were sacred, that no one would think to use them for political gain. I gripped her hand. For years, I had believed my mother to be paranoid to the point of delusion, and yet, and yet …
“Did you know?” I whispered.
And if so, what else had she kept hidden?
I had given Osan the account number on the way back to the dormitories. The journey had been subdued; he must have sensed that I was upset. I changed into my original outfit before the carriage came to a halt, and carried Rhyanon’s dress to my room in its box. Now it hung in my wardrobe. A reminder of the risks I was taking.
And already, only two days since the party, Rhyanon had a new task for me.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I said softly. “I wish you could tell me the answers.”
My mother’s face was unchanging.
“I miss you.”
I performed the rite and took extra sacraments in case of an emergency. Then I lingered. The idea of leaving her alone filled me with dread.
But I was no one significant. I set down the scalpel and washed my hands. There was no target on my back. Besides, I could have misunderstood that conversation. I could be leaping to conclusions.
The Martyrium was busy; other Sisters stopped to greet each other on the stairs and left tokens at the feet of the Eater.
Reverend Belia Verje. Account shows huge payments for building materials delivered to her Farasni province estate. Have a look into her secret renovations? Your next R has been cancelled. Keep up the good work.
The note had been slipped under my door while I slept. No signature, no invitation to respond. I wanted to talk to Rhyanon about the conversation I had overheard at the party, but it seemed I would have to wait. Walking into Civil Obligations and demanding a meeting was probably unwise.
I headed for Major West. Millie expected me in half an hour. Following a Renewal, every Sister was supposed to meet with their counsellor at the Minor West Guidance Centre. Records would show that I had turned up at the offices with clockwork precision for the last eleven months.
In reality, I had only attended three sessions. It was one of the many benefits of having a counsellor who was also my friend; I got let off the hook when it came to formal mental health evaluations. Millie and I still talked, of course, but the Guidance Centre reminded me of the Sanatorium, so I preferred to spend as little time in the building as possible. Today, we were meeting on the stairs outside the Major West Civic library.
When I arrived, Millie was standing with her elbows propped up on the banister, talking to Daje. I hung back. The two of them were caught up in a serious conversation; Millie kept shaking her head, and Daje’s shoulders were slumped.
“… reason with her, but maybe she’ll listen to you?” I heard him say.
“I think I’d rather jump off the Edge,” Millie replied. “But yeah, I’ll try.”
She spotted me over Daje’s shoulder, and for an instant, I thought that she looked alarmed. Then her expression cleared and she smiled.
“Hey, El,” she said.
“I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Not at all.” Daje turned around. “Here to steal Millie away from me?”
Millie and Daje’s relationship had been going, on-and-off, for the past eight years. We weren’t exactly friends, but I liked him well enough, and certainly more than I liked Hanna. He didn’t seem to mind that I was a Sister either. Maybe he just hid it well.
“If she’s available to be stolen,” I said.
Millie grinned. “For you, I’m always available.”
“In that case, I’ll be off.” Daje kissed her cheek. “See you this evening.”
The library was a small yellow-brick building. Silver-leaf ivy covered the walls, and a neat row of orange trees cast shade over the patchy grass of the adjoining garden. Scholars read at the tables. A woman roasted candied nuts in a skillet and sold them to passersby.
“Sorry about that.” Millie’s hair was loose today, falling in waves over her shoulders. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Fine.” She grimaced. “I have an ex who’s making Daje’s life difficult, that’s all.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Really, it isn’t a big deal.” She took my hand and started toward the trees, but I shook my head.
“Can you get me a stress pass?” I asked.
Millie’s face fell.
Stress passes, issued by counsellors, entitled members of the Sisterhood to paid leave. In the past, I had only ever used two—once after my first Renewal, and once three months later—but I had not asked for them. Millie had made the call on both occasions.
I would not have asked now either, except that I needed to leave the city without the Sisterhood noticing my absence.
“Of course,” Millie said quickly, recovering herself. “I’ll put in the paperwork tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you want to go somewhere private to talk about it? Maybe my place?”
I shook my head again. “I can’t stay for long.”
“Oh.”
Her obvious disappointment and concern made me feel awful.
“Maybe we could meet in a few days,” I said. “It’s just not a good time.”
“No, I completely understand. But, El?”
“Yes?”
“Is something going on?” Millie tilted her head slightly to the side. “Since Daje’s birthday, I’ve been worried about you. Finn is too. You’ve been avoiding us.”
I laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m fine.”
“You disappeared without a word.”
“It was just a work thing that came up unexpectedly.”
Millie’s frown deepened. “You don’t have to tell me, but something is bothering you. Are you in trouble?”
This was not going at all the way I had hoped. My goal had always been to keep my friends out of Sisterhood business.
“Have you been eating properly?” she pressed gently. “The anniversary must have been hard on you, so I’d understand if—”
I waved my hand, cutting her off. “I really am fine. About my mother too.”
“Then what is it?”
I sighed. “I’m acting as a spy for a Herald in Civil Obligations.”
She blanched. “You what?”
In a low voice, I explained what had happened. Millie listened in silence, and her face grew increasingly pale, especially when I came to describe my activities at Kisme’s party.
“Eater, El,” she said. “If you’d been caught…”
“It was a risk worth taking if Rhyanon can get me out of Renewals.”
“The Sisterhood will skin you if they find out.”
“That’s inevitable anyway.”
She scowled. “You know I hate it when you talk like that.”
I made a placating gesture. “It might seem rash, but I—”
“So you need the stress pass to investigate this Reverend?”
I nodded.
Millie pursed her lips and gave me a long, appraising look. I tried to project confidence.
“All right,” she said, after a moment. “But if you’re really serious about this, then I’m going with you.”
“Millie…”
“Non-negotiable.”
I opened my mouth to argue. She arched one brow, and I shut up.
And that was how, by fifth bell, we were leaving the city together.