Blood of the Fold (12 page)

Sister Verna lifted the parchment in her trembling fingers. The air hummed more intensely. She wanted to run, but broke the wax seal instead. The shaft of light coming from the image of the Creator above intensified to blinding brilliance.

Sister Verna unfolded the parchment and looked up, though she couldn’t see the faces around her. “Upon penalty of death, I am directed to read this letter.”

No one made a sound, so she looked down at the neatly scribed words. “It says, ‘Know all those assembled, and those not here, my last command.’”

Sister Verna paused and swallow as Sisters gasped.

“‘
These are trying times, and the palace can ill afford a protracted battle to succeed me. I will not allow it. I am exercising my prerogative as Prelate, as set down in palace canon, to name my successor. She stands before you, wearing the ring of her office. The Sister reading this is now Prelate. The Sisters of the Light will obey her. All will obey her.

“‘
The spell I have left over the ring was drawn with the aid and guidance of the Creator himself. Defy my bidding at your peril.

“‘
To the new Prelate, you are charged to serve and protect the Palace of the Prophets and all it stands for. May the Light cradle and guide you always.

“‘
In my own hand, before I pass from this life into the gentle hands of the Creator—Prelate Annalina Aldurren.’”

With a boom that shook the ground beneath her feet, the beam of light, and the glow around her, extinguished.

Verna Sauventreen let the hand holding the letter fall to her side as she looked up into the circle of stunned faces. The vast hall filled with a soft rustle as the Sisters of the Light began going to a knee and bowing their heads to their new prelate.

“
This can’t be.” she whispered to herself.

As she shuffled across the polished floor, she let the letter slip from her fingers. Sisters cautiously scurried in behind to snatch it up, to read for themselves the last words of Prelate Annalina Aldurren.

The four Sisters came to their feet as she approached. Sister Maren’s fine, sandy hair framed an ashen face. Sister Dulcinia’s blue eyes were wide, and her face red. Sister Philippa’s usually placid expression was now a picture of consternation.

Sister Leoma’s wrinkled cheeks spread in a kindly smile. “You will be in need of advice and guidance, Sis … Prelate.” Her smile was spoiled by the way she swallowed involuntarily. “We will be available to help in any way we can. Please consider us at your disposal. We are here to serve—”

“
Thank you,” Verna said in a weak voice as she started out again, her feet seeming to move of their own accord.

Warren waited outside. She pushed the doors closed and stood in a daze before the young, blond-headed wizard. Warren went to a knee in a deep bow.

“
Prelate.” He glanced up with a grin. “I was listening at the door,” he explained.

“
Don’t call me that.” Her own voice sounded hollow to her.

“
Why not? It’s who you are, now.” His grin grew. “This is—”

She turned and started away, her mind at last beginning to function again. “Come with me.”

“
Where are we going?”

Verna crossed her lips with a finger and over her shoulder shot him a scowl that snapped his mouth shut. Warren scurried to catch up with her as she marched off. Once beside her, he lengthened his stride to keep pace as she proceeded out of the Palace of the Prophets. Whenever he looked as if he might open his mouth again, she crossed her lips with the finger. He at last sighed, stuffed his hands in the opposite sleeves of his robes, and set his gaze ahead as he strode along beside her.

Novices and young men outside the palace, who had heard the riot of bells proclaiming the new prelate named, saw the ring and bowed. Verna kept her eyes ahead as she passed them. The guards on the bridge over the River Kern bowed as she crossed.

Once over the river, she descended to the bank and walked along the path through the rushes. Warren hurried to keep up with her as she passed the small docks, all empty now, the boats out on the river with their fishermen casting nets or dragging lines as they rowed slowly upriver. They would soon be returning to sell their fish at the market in the city.

A ways upriver from the Palace of the Prophets, at a deserted, flat patch of ground near an outcropping of rock around which the water gurgled and splashed, she came to a halt. Scowling into the swirling water, she planted her fists on her hips.

“
I swear, if that meddlesome old woman wasn’t dead, I’d strangle her with my bare hands.”

“
What are you talking about?” Warren asked.

“
The Prelate. If she weren’t in the hands of the Creator right now, I’d have mine around her throat.”

Warren chuckled. “That would be quite the sight, Prelate.”

“
Don’t call me that!”

Warren frowned. “But that’s who you are now: the Prelate.”

She snatched his robes at each shoulder in her fists. “Warren, you have to help me. You have to get me out of this.”

“
What! But this is wonderful! Verna, you’re Prelate now.”

“
No. I can’t be. Warren, you know all the books down in the vaults, you’ve studied palace law—you have to find something to get me out of this. There has to be a way. You can find something in the books that will prevent this.”

“
Prevent it? It’s done. And besides, this is the best thing that could happen.” He cocked his head to the side. “Why did you bring me way down here?”

She released his robes. “Warren, think. Why was the Prelate killed?”

“
She was killed by Sister Ulicia, one of the Sisters of the Dark. She was killed because she fought their evil.”

“
No, Warren, I said think. She was killed because one day, in her office, she told me that she knew about the Sisters of the Dark. Sister Ulicia was one of her administrators, and she overheard the Prelate voice her knowledge.” She leaned toward him. “The room was shielded, I made sure of it, but what I didn’t realize at the time is that the Sisters of the Dark might be able to use Subtractive Magic. Sister Ulicia heard right through the shield, and came back to kill the Prelate. Out here, we could see if anyone is close enough to hear us talk, there’s no corner for them to be hiding around.” She nodded toward the babbling water. “And the water masks the sound of our voices.”

Warren glanced nervously about. “I see what you mean. But Prelate, water can sometimes carry sounds quite a distance.”

“
I said stop calling me that. With the sounds of the day all about, and if we speak softly, the water will mask our voices. We can’t risk talking about any of this in the palace. If we must discuss any of this, we must always go out into the country, where we can see if anyone is close. Now, I need you to find a way for me to be removed from the post of Prelate.”

Warren sighed out in exasperation. “Stop saying that. You’re qualified to be Prelate, perhaps more qualified than any of the other Sisters; besides experience, the Prelate must be one with exceptional power.” He looked away when she lifted an eyebrow. “I have unlimited access to anything in the vaults. I’ve read the reports.” His gaze returned. “When you captured Richard, the other two Sisters died, and in so doing passed their power on to you. You have the power, the Han, of three Sisters.”

“
That is scarcely the only requirement, Warren.”

He leaned forward. “As I said, I’ve unlimited access to the books. I know the requirements. There is nothing that would disqualify you; you fit all the requirements. You should be elated to be Prelate. This is the best thing that could happen.”

Sister Verna sighed. “Have you lost your wits along with your collar? What possible reason would I have for wanting to be Prelate?”

“
Now we can ferret out the Sisters of the Dark.” Warren smiled confidentially. “You will have the authority to do what must be done.” His blue eyes sparkled. “Like I said, this is the best possible thing that could happen.”

She threw her hands up. “Warren, my becoming Prelate is the worst possible thing that could happen. The mantle of authority is as restricting as the collar you’re so happy to be rid of.”

Warren frowned. “What do you mean?”

She smoothed back her curly brown hair. “Warren, the Prelate is a prisoner of her authority. Did you often see Prelate Annalina? No. And why not? Because she was in her office, overseeing the administration of the Palace of the Prophets. She had a thousand things to attend to, a thousand questions that demanded her attention, hundreds of Sisters and young men that needed to be overseen, including the constant dilemma of Nathan. You don’t know the kind of trouble that man could cause. He had to be kept under constant guard.

“
The Prelate can never drop in to visit a Sister, or a young man in training; they would be in a panic, wondering what they had done wrong, what the Prelate had been told about them. The Prelate’s conversations can never be casual, they are always charged with the perception of hidden meaning. It’s not because she wants it that way—it’s simply that she holds a position of sweeping authority and no one can ever forget that.

“
When she ventures out of her complex she is immediately surrounded by the pomp and ceremony of her office. If she goes to the dining hall to have dinner, no one has the courage to carry on with their conversation; everyone sits silently and watches her, hoping she won’t look their way or, worse yet, ask them to join her at her table.”

Warren wilted a little. “I never thought about it that way.”

“
If your suspicions about the Sisters of the Dark are true, and I’m not saying they are, then being Prelate would hinder my discovering who they are.”

“
It didn’t hinder Prelate Annalina.”

“
Do you know that? Maybe if she wasn’t Prelate she would have discovered them ages ago, when she would have been able to do something about it. She might have been able to eradicate them before they began killing our boys and stealing their Han, and became so powerful. As it was, her discovery came too late, and only resulted in her death.”

“
But they may fear your knowledge and reveal themselves in some way.”

“
If there are Sisters of the Dark in the palace, then they know of my involvement in discovering the six who escaped, and if anything, they will be glad to have me be Prelate so as to tie my hands and keep me out of the way.”

Warren touched a finger to his lip. “But, it must be of some help to have you be Prelate.”

“
It will only prove a hindrance in stopping the Sisters of the Dark. Warren, you have to help me. You know the books; there must be something that can get me out of this.”

“
Prelate—”

“
Stop calling me that!”

Warren winced in frustration. “But that’s who you are. I can call you no less.”

She sighed. “The Prelate, Prelate Annalina, asked her friends to call her Ann. If I am the Prelate now, then I ask you to address me as Verna.”

Warren thought it over with a frown. “Well … I guess we are friends.”

“
Warren, we are more than friends; you are the only one I can trust. There is no one else, now.”

He nodded. “Verna, then.” He twisted his mouth as he thought. “Verna, you’re right: I know the books. I know the requirements, and you fit them all. You’re young, for a Prelate, but only by precedent; there’s no prohibition in law about age. More than that, you have the Han of three Sisters. There is no Sister, no Sister of the Light, anyway, who is your equal. That in itself makes you more than qualified; power, the command of Han, is a prime consideration to be Prelate.”

“
Warren, there has to be something. Think.”

His blue eyes reflected the depth of his knowledge, and regret. “Verna, I know the books. They’re explicit. Once lawfully named, they specifically forbid the Prelate from abandoning her duty. Only in death may she cede the calling. Short of Annalina Aldurren coming back to life, and reclaiming her office, there is no way for you to disqualify yourself, or to resign. You are Prelate.”

Verna could think of no solution. She was trapped. “That woman has been twisting my life for as long as I can remember. She keyed that spell to me, I know she did. She trapped me into this. I wish I could strangle her!”

Warren laid a gentle hand to her arm. “Verna, would you ever allow a Sister of the Dark to become Prelate?”

“
Of course not.”

“
Do you think Ann would?”

“
No, but I don’t see—”

“
Verna, you said you can trust none but me. Think of Ann. She was trapped, too. She couldn’t allow the chance of one of them becoming Prelate. She was dying. She did the only thing she could. She could trust no one but you.”

Verna stared into his eyes as his words echoed in her mind, and then she slumped down on a smooth, dark rock beside the water. Her face sank into her hands. “Dear Creator,” she whispered, “am I this selfish?”

Warren sat down beside her. “Selfish? Stubborn, at times, but never selfish.”

“
Oh Warren, she must have been so lonely. At least she had Nathan there with her … at the end.”

Warren nodded. After a moment, he glanced over at her. “We’re in a lot of trouble, aren’t we, Verna.”

“
A whole palace full of it, Warren, all wrapped up nice and neat with a gold ring.”