Our Lady of the Islands (14 page)

“Some,” she said. “They were careless enough to torture an old woman without first bothering to find out who she was related to. I’ve already realized how difficult it may be to keep that mistake a secret now.”

Het shook his head. “That is the least part of it, my lady.”

Sian arched an eyebrow. It got worse?

“Our order has been losing power and prestige ever since we failed to support Alizar’s move to independence,” Het continued. “The gods we serve here have not chosen, for many centuries at least, to make themselves known so dramatically as some do now on the mainland. We are more and more dismissed here as a quaint sideshow, yes?” He issued a quiet humph that might have been grim laughter. “This problem has grown much worse for us since the Factor’s son fell ill. We healed him very handily at first. He was all but recovered when he suddenly relapsed, and worse. Now, we have no real idea what ails him, and nothing we can do has much effect, though none of us knows why.”

“I have heard the rumors,” Sian said.

Het sat down at last, on the grimy flagstones by the cell door, with his back against the wall. “I know you have ample cause to doubt us, my lady. But, truly, we are often quite able to heal even very serious afflictions. None of us can understand why that power has failed us so mysteriously with Konrad. Yet we are all badly tainted by the failure.”

“Wait,” said Sian, as the realization hit her. “Might this not be the very reason I have been given such a gift just now? To save the Factor’s son?” She threw her hands up in frustration. “What am I doing here, like this, when I might have the power to —”

“Power given you by whom?” Het interjected wearily.

“I don’t know. Perhaps it really did come from the gods. Does that matter? I can do what I can do. Have I not proven that sufficiently?”

“I misspoke,” Het said. “I doubt that such a power can have come from anywhere
except
the gods — whatever some of us might rather believe. But what I should have asked you was,
through
whom was this power given?”

“The Butchered God’s …” Sian fell silent as the rest of the understanding dawned. “Are you priests really all so petty that you’d let the Factor’s son die just because the gift I bear has come sealed with someone else’s
brand?
”

“Not
all
of us, no,” Het replied, looking miserable. “But I do suspect it would be very hard for those entrusted with the preservation of our order and its ancient legacy to send a
woman
, un-anointed and un-anointable by the Mishrah-Khote, to the Factor, ostensibly blessed with healing power by a god the temple has tacitly disavowed, through a fugitive priest we have publicly accused of fraud, to succeed at what all the Mishrah-Khote’s best healers have been unable to do.” He gazed up at her. “Surely, you can see as well as I, Domina, how many nails such an event would likely pound into our already closing coffin — all at once.”

“So I am being kept here
because
I might be able to heal the Factor’s son?”

“I … have no idea what will happen, my lady.” Het rose to his feet and pulled the door open without turning back to look at her. “I have lost all faith in my ability to predict what other men may do. Even my own brothers. And I have no power here in any case. I’m sorry, but I must go now. I will do my best to see that you get a meal, as soon as possible.” He pulled the door shut behind him. “And some more comfortable accommodation, if I can,” he called softly through the door as keys jingled once more in the lock.

None of that will matter now
, she thought, listening to the hasty pat of Het’s receding footsteps.
Not if what you say is true
.

The light through Sian’s tiny window had begun to pink toward evening before she heard keys in the lock again. Her cell was quite dark, the hallway nearly as dim as her door swung open to reveal yet another monk — a bit more portly than the last. She hung back, wary, until she saw the tray of food he carried.

“Finally!” Sian exclaimed, just holding herself from rushing to the door.

“Sadly, none of this is for you,” the monk whispered, managing to close the door behind him with one foot as he entered. “Your food will be provided soon, though.”

“Father Het?” Sian asked, trying to reconcile the voice she recognized with the plump figure she did not.

“Keep your voice down,” he said, coming to set the tray down on her straw mattress. “In fact, don’t speak at all.” Before she could think of what to say to this, he straightened and lifted his robe to tug at something heavy underneath it. It took her another moment to recognize the second robe he’d wrapped around himself under his garments. “Put this on.” He held the robe out to her as it came free. “Pull the hood as far down as you can and still see where you’re going.”

“Why? What is happening?”

“Did you not hear the bells? It is the temple’s dinner hour. There’s no other time of day or night when everyone is likely to be more distracted.”

“But … What are we doing?”

“First, we are going down the hall together to serve the guard on duty his dinner.” Het rearranged something else he’d stashed under his robe. “Motuque is an old friend of mine. Let me do all the talking there.
You
have taken a vow of silence. Understand?”

“No,” she said. “I mean, yes, but —”

“Do you want to leave here?” he asked, sharply. “Or would you stay and throw yourself upon the mercy of our brotherhood?”

She began fumbling into the heavy robe. “But why am
I
going to serve dinner to the guard, of all people?”

“Because it’s the last thing he’d expect an escaping prisoner to do. When he and I have exchanged the usual pleasantries, and his meal has been eaten, you and I will head back to the refectory — or someplace very near it — with the empty tray. If all goes well, you’ll have been fed and gone for hours before anybody here thinks to check on
Domina Kattë
.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Some of us still care about what the gods must think of us. The worst of us still have a conscience, even.” She realized that he was grinning. “Have I not also mentioned that I am something of a disappointment here?”

Heart pounding, Sian managed to get the robe over her head and find its other sleeve with her left arm. “Will they not punish you for this?”

“Perhaps. Though they may merely pity me when I stagger out of your cell later in my underclothes, and tell them how you used your heretical magic to rob me of both consciousness and robe before stealing away. That is my robe you’re wearing, by the way. Sorry it’s not cleaner. I’ve had no opportunity to visit the laundry since we last spoke.”

“I have no such power,” she protested, pulling the oversized hood down as instructed. “My touch cannot hurt. It only heals.”

“You know this? Have you tried it to find out, or do you simply leap to untested assumptions like everyone else?”

“Of course I have not tried to hurt anyone,” she said, scandalized.

“It doesn’t matter. The people I will answer to have less idea than you do what such power is capable of. All they know is that your power is real, and can affect the body in profound ways. That will be more than enough to make my story credible.”

“It will be enough to make me seem a criminal — and dangerous.”

He turned to her in the dimness. “Domina Kattë, let us be quite clear: you are already both of those things in the minds of many here. Of political necessity. You leave this temple a wanted fugitive — no matter what you’ve really done, or would do. Your life depends on understanding that, yes? If I were you, I would leave these islands as quickly as possible.”

“Leave
Alizar?
”

“It is but a suggestion, my lady. Alizar is a very small place to stay well hidden in for long, but what you do is yours to decide — or will be very soon. Right now, however, we must go.” He put one hand lightly on her shoulder, and gave her a gentle push toward the door.

Her heart was in her throat. “I thank you, Father Het.”

“Now we are even, yes?” He retrieved the meal tray from her bed. “My failure of your mother is forgiven?”

“It was not your failure, Father Het. Were more priests like yourself, the Mishrah-Khote would not be languishing, I think.”

“Vow of silence,” he said gruffly, handing her the tray. “Starting now.”

Moments later, Sian stood just inside the guardroom doorway, clutching the now-empty dinner tray with both hands in breathless fear. Her cowled head remained bowed to hide her face as Het stood just before her, chatting amiably with her guard about the disappointing quality of temple food these days.

“Ah well,” Het sighed. “Revenues are not what they were before the current economic troubles, are they? We must all make concessions until such things improve, I suppose.”

“If by
all
you do not mean to include our illustrious leaders,” the guard corrected him with a sardonic grin. “The platters sent to our Father Superior’s chambers are as sumptuous as ever, I am told. If I’m not mistaken,
he
is dining at the Factorate House tonight. I doubt
they
are being served stale bread and boiled skate fin in such tasteless broth.”

“Oh, cheer up, Motuque. I suspect your latest
guest
would not complain so much about the meal before you.”

Motuque looked down uncomfortably at his wooden bowl and platter.

“How long will they go on starving her like this, do you suppose?” Het asked casually.

“It is the only way she can be hurt,” Motuque said, avoiding Het’s gaze. “More than temporarily, at least. You must have heard of her power to heal.”

“Of course,” said Het. “And of her ties to House Alkattha too. Bad enough that she was tortured, yes? Why compound our troubles by starving her as well?”

“They want her rendered more compliant.” Motuque shoved his meal aside as if he’d lost all appetite. “Het, you know very well I’m not the sort who likes inflicting pain — especially on a woman old enough to be my mother. Whoever her family might be. But what am I to do? This is my job. My orders are clear. She is still too defiant to be managed, and —”

“I can scarce imagine why,” Het interrupted with a smirk.

To Sian’s intense discomfort, the guard looked past Het then, to her. “Is this a conversation to be having in front of … Exactly who are you again?”

“Brother Pavri,” Het quickly answered for her. “One of our newest acolytes. It seems he has been ordered by his mentor to assume a vow of silence until he learns greater wisdom — having already proven even more prone to question his superiors than I was at his age.”

“That bad?” Motuque sounded impressed.

“Oh yes,” Het said cheerfully, turning to grin at Sian. “I think we must have recognized some kindred spirit in each other, for he was reckless enough to
explain
all this to me — despite his vow — almost as soon as I met him on his way here with your dinner.” Het turned back to the guard. “So you see, Motuque, I hold this disobedient pup’s fate in my hands now.
He
will not be telling any tales on us. You can be sure of that.”

Motuque gave Sian a grim smile. “You are lucky it was this old reprobate you ran into, lad. Any other priest here would have marched you right back to your mentor after such an infraction, for far more unpleasant discipline, I’m sure. Repeat a word said here to anyone, however, and, as Het just said, we’ll make life very hard for you indeed. Do not doubt me.”

Sian bowed her head more deeply, wondering again why this was necessary. Could they not just have left her cell and fled?

“So, old friend,” Het said lightly, “you were about to enlighten me, I believe, as to why we are now in the business of torturing old women?”

“Stop tormenting me, Het,” Motuque complained. “You know as well as I do what they’ll have to do now. But that will still involve a trial, at which she must be present — and cooperative. If she hasn’t learned to fear us, who knows what she’ll do or say there?”

Het shook his head. “Tell me you are merely parroting your superiors, or I must fear for your very soul — oh
healing
priest.”

“You were always a soft-hearted fool, Het. Ideals are well and good. The gods know I admire yours. But the world works as it does, not as we wish it to. I cannot have been here, doing this, for so many years without coming to accept that.” Motuque took up his spoon again, and stirred his bowl of thin broth idly. “I am sorry for her too. But the world is much too large for me — or you — to fix, old friend.”