The Fire Sisters (Brilliant Darkness 3) (21 page)

Cautiously, I feel around for one of the empty chairs and sit. Our trainer thrusts a cup in my hand. Whatever’s in it smells like the distilling barrel at home. I take a sip to confirm my suspicions. Yep, some kind of alcohol.

“That won’t do,” she says. “Drink up!”

I take a larger swig, and flames shoot out of my ears… or at least it feels that way. Grimma laughs as I sputter and squirm, the liquid fire searing my belly.

“You get used to it. It’s our special brew.”

“No… thanks,” I manage to choke out.

She settles back, taking a few more noisy swallows of her drink. I give her a minute, but she doesn’t say why she’s here.

“Grimma… are you okay?”

She chuckles. “Yes, yes. Your friends were tired. I thought you might be in pain when you woke, so I stayed on for a time to tend you.”

I blink. She’s
worried
about me. “Oh. Thank you. But I’m fine if you want to go… home.”

Where
is
home for Grimma? What does she do there when she’s not training us or supervising our work? Does she have hobbies, interests? I know nothing about her.

“No rush. I’m enjoying my cup and the fire. These old bones ache with the colder weather some days. I’ll go in a few minutes.”

Her words bring clove smoke and easy laughter to mind. Nerang always complained about how old he was, too, even though he didn’t sound much more aged than Kadee or Fox most of the time. And as for Grimma, no one who can take the kind of unintentional beating I gave her those first few days can be described as decrepit.

“Shall I fetch Nuria?” she asks. “Our healer?”

I touch the bandage on my neck. “It’s better than I was expecting; the pain’s not so bad. But I worried I might not feel… you know… normal.”

“Yes. That is the other reason I stayed,” Grimma simply says.

Ah.
If the sick one’s bite turned me, and I went berserk, Grimma could shut me in here to feed on my friends.
Nice
. But her next words surprise me again.

“Thank you for what you did for Fia.”

I push the resentment away. Monitoring me was the only practical response. Of course the Sisters thought I could turn.

“Is she all right?” I ask. I’m pretty sure Fia made it up the ladder, but I passed out before I heard anything else about her.

“She was shaken up, but otherwise fine. She’s home, sleeping.” The older woman pauses, and then her voice takes on an unexpectedly affectionate note. “She’s my partner, you know.”

I smile. “I didn’t know that.”

“Can’t imagine what I’d do without her.”

“Then I’m especially glad she made it.”

“Were you not afraid to be down there with the wailers?” She sounds genuinely intrigued.

I weigh what to say. I could explain that the water is poisoned and they’re sick, and that it’s all a really sad delusion, but I’ve already been down that particular path. If I couldn’t convince most of my own people of the truth, those who knew me best, how will I convince Grimma, or any of the Fire Sisters?

“Yes, I was.”

“Remarkable,” Grimma says. “I wasn’t sure about the wisdom of keeping you on as an Initiate, being Sightless. But Alev argued for you and the others, and I respect her opinion. Now I’m thinking she’s right—you’ll make a fine Sister.”

I work very hard to smile as if nothing would make me happier.

“What happened?” I ask. “Did the,
er
, wailers, leave?”

She grunts. “We killed them all, rounded them up, and burned their bodies in the Eternal Flames. It purifies them, you know, returns them to humanity, so they might have a chance of spending their afterlife with Mother Asis.”

I wince. Even after being bitten—again—by a sick one, I wouldn’t wish being killed and burned on them. But I can hear the compassion in Grimma’s voice. The Sisters and she clearly feel they’re doing the best they can for them.

“Let’s hear about you, then.” Her chair creaks as she shifts her weight. “I know you come from the forest. Beautiful country. I haven’t been in that part of the world in years, but I remember it. Not so stirring as the Cloister, but lovely in its own way. Did you suffer much there?”

Suffer?
“Um—”

She must see my confusion. “Were you mistreated by your men?”

I run my finger around the rim of the cup, thinking. If I’m being honest, I
was
mistreated at times. There were a few boys who enjoyed teasing and tormenting me when I was a child. Moray hurt me, and Adder’s paranoia and narrow-mindedness caused no end of hardship and anguish. Osprey and his followers took Eland from me. But I never blamed their behavior on the fact that they were
male
. There were women—Breeze and Thistle come to mind—who caused me as much pain, if not more.

As far as I can tell, people are people. Men
and
women. We all have good and evil in us.

“No,” I tell her. “I wasn’t.”

I take a shaky breath. As ever, thinking of Eland’s death hurts more than any physical wound could. Grimma touches my arm, misunderstanding whatever she sees on my face.

“Are you in pain?”

I reassure her I’m not. Not that kind, anyway.

“I wasn’t born in the Cloister, you know,” she says. “I came here as a young woman, like you. The Sisters have been good to me. I’ve been content.”

I bite my lip, wondering if she’ll allow me to ask some questions. It’s worth a try.

“
Why
do the Sisters live apart from other people, Grimma? From men?”

I have an inkling already from a story Peree told me, one about a bird whose feather became a spear that a village of women used to kill their menfolk. Kai told it to him, and I’m convinced she learned it while she was here as a girl. Did the Teachers tell it at night in the children’s compound? A ghastly goodnight fairy tale?

Grimma’s voice softens, becoming speculative. “The first Sisters created the Cloister many years ago as a haven. The world was overrun with wailers, resources were scarce, and people were dying in droves.”

It sounds like it might be around the same time the Lofties took the safety of the trees, leaving us Groundlings below to try to survive the Scourge. Bitterness flashes through me. Old wounds take time to heal, I guess.

Grimma goes on. “Women and children were treated especially poor back then. They were weak, helpless, controlled by men. The first Sisters decided to stand up for themselves and for other women, to never allow themselves to be victimized again. They came together to support each other, and to give their daughters a chance to grow in a place where they were valued. They wanted them to be strong and confident, able to defend themselves.”

I consider her words; it’s a noble idea. “But why keep the girls separated from the adults?”

“To further protect them. The early Sisters decided that only a few select women, chosen for their wisdom and strength, would raise our daughters. They became our Teachers. The rest of the Sisters would see to maintaining the Cloister, keeping it safe from the outside world. We do all this for their own good.”

“You speak about the girls here like they’re your own flesh and blood. But aren’t they all… Gathered?” I was about to say
kidnapped
; I remembered the word the Sisters used just in time.

“They are family,” she says.

I was given to Aloe in the Exchange—our hideous, old practice of trading babies with the Lofties based only on their coloring—so, of course, I believe that family doesn’t necessarily have to share blood. But Aloe
raised
me, caring for and teaching me along the way. The Sisters have little to do with their daughters it seems, other than watching from time to time as they grow into disciplined fighters. Maybe that’s enough for them.

“Alev has been pushing us to stop the Gatherings,” Grimma says, sounding speculative. “Perhaps find some way to mate with men, birth our own daughters. Focused on the future, that one. Sometimes too much so. She’s done her own share of traveling, and now she wants us to do things differently.
We need to join the world
, she always says.” She takes another wet slug of her drink. “But we have our own way of doing things in the Cloister, and it’s kept us safe through many a hard year.” She pauses. “Alev is lucky Adar is her sister.”

So I was right that they’re sisters. Amarina and Frost said the pair looks alike, but they couldn’t be sure. Were they
both
Gathered from some village? Their poor parents.

“Adar’s position keeps Alev safe,” Grimma is saying. “Not everyone likes change or those who want it.”

I almost snort. She doesn’t need to tell
me
that.

“Thanks to Alev’s influence, we Gather only when we must to ensure the future of the Cloister. But our numbers are fewer because of it; we cannot afford to stop entirely,” Grimma says. “We are respected and feared among all those who know of us. The Gatherings, our reputation as warriors, the power of the sting—they keep us safe from any who might think to take the Cloister for themselves.”

My fingers dig into my thigh. Do the Sisters comprehend the terrible suffering they’re inflicting on the communities they take children from? They justify it by saying it’s essential for their survival. Which is also how the Lofties justified oppressing us for generations. Or the way my own people justified blinding me as a baby—and who knows how many other Sightless women through the years. Even Nerang can be unscrupulous at times, like when he drugged the others to move them past the sick ones to Koolkuna.

And I brought a group of Groundlings and Lofties to Koolkuna, knowing it would make life much more difficult for those we left behind. It seems we’re all capable of fashioning our own absolutions.

“Grimma… what about the boys?” I ask. “What do you do with them?”

Her voice hardens. “Boys grow up to be men. To men, women are valueless objects to be used for their pleasure. They turn us against each other and distract us from protecting each other and ourselves. The first Sisters left their sons behind when they came to the Cloister. An agonizing decision. We honor their sacrifice by continuing the tradition. It is for the best.”

I can’t help but think of Moray. He seems to see Frost as a valueless object, except that she’s carrying his child. And Kai’s attraction to Peree certainly seemed to turn us against each other. Still, not all men are like Moray, and not all women are like Kai. It’s ridiculous to think otherwise, but the Sisters clearly do. And Grimma didn’t answer my question.

“The boys from our village,” I say. “Where are they now?”

Please don’t say you killed them. Please.

“We will trade them to the ants in exchange for provisions.”

That word again. “What? How can you trade with ants?”

Grimma laughs. “The ants are
people
. They live in the Colony, a massive underground complex by the River Restless. They came to this area generations ago, around the same time we did, to escape the wailers. We don’t have much to do with them if we can help it—leave ‘em to their scurrying around beneath the earth, pasty and pale—but they have some use as trading partners. They have excellent stores of meat—keeps a long time underground.”

I gasp. The boys will be traded to these ant people? Were they who attacked us? Were we near the Colony even then?

“Now don’t you worry,” she says. “The Colony isn’t so bad. They’ll find a place for those boys. One of ‘em is a handful, from what we hear from the Teachers. He’ll learn to mind himself in the Colony.”

Thrush.
“When? When will they be traded?”

“I don’t know. Soon. You forget about it, now. Taking you four on as Initiates, given why you came to us, was a stretch for Adar. Don’t offer her any reason to think she was wrong to do it. Keep your minds on your training and your work. You have your daughters, and your own safety, to consider.”

There’s a warning in her voice, one that a part of my brain yells at me to heed. But I can’t. This is
awful
.

Grimma groans a little as she stands. “I’m off to bed. I’m glad to see you’re on the mend. Fia will want to thank you herself, when she has the chance. Until then, I’ll thank you in my own way. You stay here and rest tomorrow—I’ll send Nuria to see to your wound. And I’ll go easy on the others, too. Not sure they can bear up under another day of hard labor anyway.”

I say goodnight, only half listening as she reminds me to put the fire out before I go to bed. Shadows and silence draw tight around me after Grimma closes the door.

I’d hoped we’d have more time to understand the daily routines of the Sisters and familiarize ourselves with the Cloister so we could find a way to slip out with the least amount of bloodshed. But at some point in the near future—we don’t even know when—the boys will disappear underground with the ant people. If they’re taken away, we’ll not only have to get the girls out, we’ll have to locate the Colony and rescue the boys. Every hour that goes by leaves us closer to failing the children, their parents, and our mission.

Ready or not, it’s time to act.

“Ants?” Amarina mutters.

“I remember hearing about them now.” Kai sounds far away again.

“We can’t let the Sisters trade Darel and Thrush away,” I say. “How will we ever find them? I’m going to talk to Peree and the others, warn them. If the Sisters bring the boys outside the walls, the men will have to try to take them back.”

It will mean a fight with the Sisters, but under no circumstances can we let the boys be spirited away to this Colony place. Not if there’s anything we can do to stop it.

“How will you get outside?” Frost asks.

There are voices outside on the porch. Grimma’s back.

“I’ll figure something out,” I whisper. “In the meantime, don’t get into any trouble today. We need the Sisters to let their guard down with us.”
If that’s even possible.

My fingers thrum on the covers of my bed as Grimma rounds the others up for training. She pats me on the shoulder before they leave, telling me the healer would be by soon. Much as I might have thought I’d luxuriate in a day off from training or hauling rocks, I don’t. The boys could be traded away to those ant people today, this hour.