The Fire Sisters (Brilliant Darkness 3) (18 page)

Grimma sits somewhere in front of us; I hear her speaking with a few other women. I thought the Sisters might be silent and secretive around us, but I was wrong. Their conversation seems not much different from one I might hear back home or in Koolkuna: challenges with their work, how the fall weather seems to be hanging on, crumbs of gossip. What’s strange is that the voices are all female.

I don’t know if all the Sisters are here taking a meal, but a lot of voices echo around the room. Frost guessed there were somewhere between seventy and one-hundred Sisters, which is a smaller group than in Koolkuna or back home. The Cloister is twice as big as the village, with not as many people to defend it. Can that work to our advantage?

I have to admit that between the security of the compound, the solid stone structures, the fine clothes and linens, plentiful water, and the bounty and quality of the meal, the Sisters seem to live very well. It’s easy to understand why they would want to protect what they have. The problem is that what riches they
don’t
have, they steal.

After dinner, the Sisters quiet… except for the sounds of throat clearing. Many of them have rough voices and dry coughs, probably thanks to the Eternal Flames.

“Come, Fia, tell us a new story tonight,” a Sister calls from somewhere ahead and to the left.

“I’m too tired, and my belly’s too full,” a woman near Grimma says. She groans to make her point.

Story? What kinds of tales do the Sisters like?

Other Sisters are called on, but they each have an excuse for why they can’t or won’t tonight. No one volunteers.

I’m on my feet before I think much about it. The room quiets again. Women shift around on their benches, probably to stare at me. Heat flames across my face. I press my suddenly sweaty hands against my tunic.

“I… I have a story.”

“By all means. Come forward, Initiate.” Adar sounds amused.

I grope my way to the wall and follow it around the circular room to where I heard her voice. My own elders told us many tales around the fire growing up, and I’ve learned others from Kadee, Wirrim, Nerang, and even Kora. Peree’s told me dozens since I met him. I’m nowhere near as talented a storyteller as he is, but I can do this. Only… what if I tell a story that offends them or that they hate? Our position here is already precarious.

“What did you say your name was again?” Adar asks when I stop and face the group. Her voice is smooth, toneless. Not flat like someone who is downtrodden, but more like someone who feels emotion but works hard to show little of it.

“Fennel,” Alev says. “Like the herb.” She sounds as if she’s sitting at the same table as Adar. I smile briefly toward her.

“And what is this story about?” Adar asks.

Indecision strangles me, sending my thoughts flying.

“I’m… not sure.”

A few Sisters snort. My cheeks flare again. If only I knew what kind of story they’d enjoy. Why can’t I think of a thing?

The Sisters start to mutter.

Think
, Fennel.

Then—I have it.

“It’s,
um
, about a hunter and seven sisters he meets in the forest. It was told to me by my mother, an accomplished storyteller.”

I’m fibbing. Peree told me this story; he
heard
it from Kadee. I thought it might be best not to mention men in here.

“Fine, fine,” Adar says. “You may begin.”

I close my eyes and imagine Peree starting a story. He always takes a moment to ease out of himself and into the tale. I’ve teased him about it before. He usually pretends to be insulted, saying he won’t tell me at all if I’m going to mock him. Only a kiss will persuade him to begin—which was his goal all along. I wish I could give him that kiss now.

When I speak, I try channeling his storytelling voice: full and clear, commanding. I do my best to honor him.

“One day a man was hunting in the forest. He came across a group of seven young women who were gathered by a fire, warming themselves. He was hungry, having had no success in the hunt that day, and the women welcomed him to their fire, offering food and a warm place to sleep for the night. He accepted politely.

“‘Where do you come from?’ the man asked the young women. ‘And why are you in the forest by yourselves?’

‘We are from a faraway country,’ the young women answered. ‘We are looking around, and then we will go back home.’ The man puzzled at this, but he was too tired to puzzle for long.”

When Peree told this story one night around the fire at the
allawah
, the beginning reminded me of the tale of the cassowary woman, one of my favorites. Peree told it to me in the trees, after I was bitten by a sick one. I think that was the moment I first began to fall in love with him.

“In the morning, the hunter ate the breakfast the young women offered to him, and then took his leave. But as he traveled into the empty forest alone, dark desires crept into his heart.
I will wait
, he said to himself,
and watch these women
.
Then I will take one of them for my own, for I have no partner, and I am lonely. They must not mind
, he thought,
or they would not be out in the forest, without protection, young as they are.
”

I pause, as the Sisters grumble. Is it the story or the way I tell it? I swallow and press on, my voice a little less confident.

“The man circled back to the camp and hid behind a tree, waiting and watching. Eventually, one of the young women left the others to gather more firewood. She was a particular beauty, with smooth, brown skin and long, straight, black hair that shone in the sun as if there were a light hidden deep in its depths. The man wanted her for his own.

“He waited until she had wandered far enough from her sisters, and then he ran to her, covering her mouth so she could not scream. He carried her off quickly, moving this way and that to be sure he was not followed. The young woman kicked at him and bit his hand, but he was much bigger, and he easily controlled her.”

Disapproval seeps around me from the Sisters, but it’s too late to stop. My words come faster.

“On the edge of the thick forest, far from where he found her, the hunter finally set the young woman down. ‘You will stay with me now,’ he said. ‘Go and fetch us wood for our fire while I hunt for our dinner.’

‘If I leave,’ the girl said defiantly, ‘you will never see me again.’

‘Then I will go, too,’ he said. ‘Because you are mine now, mine alone, and I will not let you leave me.’ The hunter gripped her arm, forcing her to bend and pick up the wood.”

A few Sisters shout out in anger. I speak louder to recapture their attention.

“The young woman was enraged, but she did as the hunter asked. She stopped beside a towering tree to collect kindling that had fallen around it. As she crouched, she wrapped one arm around the trunk and waited. And the tree began to grow. It rose higher and higher, shooting up into the sky, pulling the young woman out of the hunter’s grasp. With a cry, he leapt on to the trunk below her, so that it brought him into the sky, too. When the young woman reached the clouds, her sisters were there, calling to her. Just in time, she scrambled into the clouds to join them.

“The hunter raised his fist,” —I raise mine, too— “calling to her to come back to him. The young woman laughed at that, and she leaned over to give the tree a great shake.” I shake an imaginary tree.

“The man lost his grip and fell. He fell so far and so fast that none heard him hit the ground. The seven sisters stayed in the sky, where they remain to this day."

I pause.

"You can see them at night. They are called the Pleiades, and the hunter is known as Orion. Some say he follows the sisters still.”

I shift from foot to foot and braid my fingers together, waiting for the Sisters’ reaction. It's too quiet.

Then, mugs pound on the table amid appreciative voices. I wipe my brow dramatically, drawing laughter from the room, and say my own silent thanks to Peree and Kadee.

“An entertaining tale indeed,” Alev says. “Very good.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“We know of the Pleiades.” This is Golnar; her voice also comes from near where I heard Adar and Alev. She sounds less impressed. “There are only six stars among them.”

“Ah.” Slyness creeps into my voice. “Well, I’ve heard the young woman sometimes sneaks off to find the handsome Orion.” I pause. “Only to give him a good kick, of course.”

The Sisters laugh again.

“Well done,” a woman says from the audience. “Perhaps you can tell us another tomorrow night?”

I beam. “I’d be happy to.”

I’d be happy to do anything to gain the Sisters’ confidence and get them to let their guard down—anything that might help us when it’s time to escape.

The Cloister. The Fire Sisters.
Training
. My spirits slip
.

We dress and eat a simple breakfast of bread with a tart fruit spread. The hunk of roast I ate last night still rumbles in my stomach, so I take only a few bites before Grimma leads us outside.

Acrid smoke from the Eternal Flames irritates my nose, throat, and eyes as always, but the morning air manages to feel fresh and crisp, as if droplets of ice are suspended in it. A fine, salty-tasting mist covers my face. As my fingers and nose slowly freeze, I’m glad for the warm leggings and stout boots.

We pass the growing hum of the waking wasps, head down the hill to the forested area, past the soapy-smelling laundry, and up to the training grounds. I feel in front of me as we come to a stop and find slats of wood running about waist high, a fence that I’d guess demarcates the area.

It sounds like every last Sister is already hard at work—a myriad of cracks, grunts, and shouts of simulated combat ring out before us. I’m awed by the sounds of their controlled violence. My people trained with knives, spears, and bows at home so we could protect ourselves from the Lofties and the Scourge, but it never sounded as focused and intense as this. Butterflies pirouette in my stomach. Even Bear’s expert advice and attention couldn’t make me into a fighter. Grimma will soon find out exactly how hopeless I am.

“Come. I’ll take you through the warm-up exercises.” She leads us in.

The training grounds feel like flat, hard-packed dirt, and seemingly clear of any obstacles… except my own two feet.

Grimma has us stretch, and then gives each of us a smooth staff. We perform simple movements with it first, which isn’t so bad if I concentrate on exactly what she tells us to do. She walks among us, giving pointers. She visits me often.

Next, she runs us through a series of rudimentary exercises with a partner. Grimma describes the movements in detail, even standing behind me and moving my arms so I can feel what I’m to do. If she had put me with Amarina, I might have been okay. But she partners me with Kai.

I’m hesitant at first, worried I’ll hurt her. She snickers at my paltry efforts. So I try harder… and clobber her by mistake. After a few rounds of either outright misses or unintentional hits that cause Kai to shout in pain, I throw my staff to the ground with a frustrated cry.

Grimma thrusts it back in my hand. “Again. I will be your partner. I’ve been struck before by stronger than the likes of you. You won’t hurt me.” She pauses. “Amarina, partner with Kaiya. Frost, you rest. Now—Fennel.”

She makes me repeat the sequences over and over with few breaks. It’s not long before I’m breathless, quivering with exertion, and covered in bruises. And, I have to admit, better. Our trainer is a taskmaster, but she’s patient and clear in her instructions. True to her word, she doesn’t seem to mind my misplaced blows. And after a while, I can string together three or four moves against Kai before she knocks the staff out of my hands or hits me hard enough that I drop it. I even disarm her, once, fair and square.

“Good work,” Grimma finally says, thumping me on the back. “Have a break and some water. There are buckets along the fence. We’ll go next with spears.”

My mouth opens, ready to protest. There’s no doubt I’ll
kill
someone if she makes me use a spear.

“Without heads,” she adds.

That’s a relief. I like Amarina and Frost very much. It would be nice not to poke them full of holes.

I’m no better with the spear—possibly even worse—but I continue to learn. Kai is again my partner. I grit my teeth and take her painful jabs without complaint, and she manages to rein in her derisive snorts. Anyway, from the things Grimma says, none of us are too skilled at fighting by Fire Sister standards.

After what feels like hours, our trainer relents and takes us to wash up at a well behind the great hall. As we devour our midday meal, she tells us our chores for the afternoon: cleaning and straightening our quarters and the great hall in preparation for the evening meal.

She tells us that on other days, we might help in the gardens or kitchen, mend clothes, or collect firewood or wild herbs outside the wall. We need to learn what the Sisters do to keep up the Cloister. I pay close attention to everything she tells us, as well as the conversations of other Sisters working near us, listening for either a weak point in their defenses or a way to exploit their routines. Nothing stands out. The Sisters seem quick and efficient in their work, sparing little time for idle conversation.

For dinner, we return to the great hall, which I happen to know is now squeaky clean, and again, we sit in the back. A brothy, flavorful vegetable stew, plus more of the wonderful bread, fills the empty corners of my stomach. Amarina is quiet as we eat; I ask if she’s okay.

“We did not see the children,” she says.

“We should ask Grimma again,” Frost says.

But I have another idea. Someone calls for another story, and I volunteer.

“What is this one about, Initiate?” Adar asks when I’m standing by her table once again.

I’m prepared this time. I tell one that Kora shared with Peree and me after dinner one night, soon after we returned to Koolkuna. It’s a silly story about a girl who wanders into the home of three bears without being invited. She sits in their chairs, eats their food, and falls asleep in their beds until they return home and chase her out. Bears were large, lumbering creatures, Kora explained, that
look
soft and cuddly but can take your head off with one swipe of a viciously clawed paw. They sound monstrous.