Grimm shielded his eyes against the glare of the setting sun as he drove the wagon towards Brianston. After the gloomy squalor of Yoren, he felt prepared for almost anything, except for the dazzling sight that met his eyes.
This was no town full of run-down shanties and faded glories, but a vision of heaven on earth. Proud, gleaming cupolas and turrets came into view, and the colourful opulence of the market square, visible in the distance, seemed to eclipse even the rebuilt centre of Crar. Grimm could not fail to notice the well-dressed, smiling people walking the clean, paved streets. Several of the townspeople favoured the wagon with a cheery wave as it passed them; a quick scan with Mage Sight showed the citizens’ auras to be free of deception or worry.
Quelgrum, sitting beside the mage, tapped him on the left shoulder. “A bit of a change from Yoren, eh, Lord Baron? From the look, a man could do worse than spend his life here, I reckon."
Maybe it's just a little too good to be true, Grimm thought. How does a town in the middle of this wilderness maintain such magnificence? I've been guilty before of taking things at face value, and I'm not about to make that mistake again.
"I just wonder if it isn't a little too nice, General. Let's not forget our purpose. We're not here to sightsee or relax, remember?"
The General nodded. “I hear you there, Lord Baron. It's a fine sight to admire, I must say, but I agree we should stay alert. Even a squalid hellhole like Yoren had armed guards and barriers. You'd think a place as fancy as this would be riddled with them, but where are they? It looks as if a marauding army could just march in and take over in an instant."
Grimm stopped the wagon short of the town centre, and tapped his right pocket. “Thribble; are you there?"
"Where else would I be, mortal?” the imp squeaked, pushing his head into view. “This does seem a pleasant spot to stay-are you planning to rest here?"
"I don't know yet, Thribble. Just recently, I've had my mind baffled and enslaved by pheromones and my eyes bedazzled by grandeur and opulence. I refuse to be fooled like that again. If we do decide to stay here, it's for one night and no more; is that clear? If any of us, including me, starts to act at all oddly, I want you to tell me.
"I like the look of this place as much as you do, but that's just what worries me. I don't know if this is some honey trap or just what it appears to be, but I'll let nothing stand in the way of our Quest this time. If Brianston really is what it appears to be, we may stop off here on the way back from Rendale, but, for now, we're just on our way through. If I even make the suggestion that we might stay here for more than one night, I want you to remind me of what I've said."
"That's understood, Questor Grimm. To be honest, I really want to see you complete this Quest; it will make a good tale to tell my brothers when I return home-whenever that may be."
The wagon's canvas cover rustled, and Grimm turned to see Tordun's head emerging. “May I ask why we have stopped, Questor Grimm? Is there a problem? Oh! Is that not a fine sight to behold?"
"What is it, Tordun?” Harvel's muffled voice emerged from the cart's interior. Grimm turned to the old soldier. “General, would you mind standing watch for a while? I want to brief our companions."
"Go ahead, Lord Baron,” Quelgrum replied. “It doesn't seem we have any problems at the moment."
"Budge over, Tordun,” Grimm said, crawling into the back of the wagon. “I don't want to wield the whip hand here, but it seems that I'll need to set a few ground rules."
Drex hardly noticed the sting of the whip on her back, but the nun's hoarse, harsh voice brought her to attention. She had no idea how she might have transgressed the Order's rules, but Melana's brusque tone brooked no argument. “Am I wasting my time with you, Supplicant? What is the matter with you?"
"I'm sorry, Sister Melana,” the girl mumbled, her tone respectful, sincere and penitent. “I acknowledge my most grievous fault, and I crave correction.” The rote phrase slid with ease from between her lips, comforting her with its familiarity.
"Must I remind you of even the most simple of incantations, you worthless bitch?” croaked the Sister, her red-tinged eyes blazing. “You're a useless, pathetic ingrate!"
"Yes, Sister Melana.” Drexelica lowered her gaze in the required attitude of Holy Modesty. Nonetheless, she had not failed to notice Melana's haggard state, and she registered the fact that the nun's sorry condition was somehow her fault.
Poor Sister Melana, She only wants to train me in the ways of the Order, and I betray her with sloppiness and inattention. I deserve punishment.
Drex had the impression that she might have possessed a different opinion at the start of the session, but beyond this bare fact all else was hazy and inchoate.
"Sister Melana: this humble Novice believes that the Supplicant's response was correct,” one of the ever-present attendants called, and Drex almost gasped at the junior nun's effrontery as Melana whirled to face the daring Novice.
"You dare to oppose me, Novice?” The Sister's narrowed eyes seemed to scorch the attendant, who shrank from the baleful gaze, seeming almost to melt in its intensity. “Do we all come to you for advice, now?"
"No, Sister Melana,” the nun whispered. “I merely thought…"
"You think way too much, Sister Falun! Who is in charge here: you or me?"
"You are, Sister Melana."
"You may both consider yourselves fortunate that I don't send you to the Prioress for correction. I am displeased with both your attitudes; you both seem to believe yourselves more familiar with Holy Ritual than I, and you will correct that at once!
"I will kindly make allowances for the fact that you are still young and callow. However, I require both of you to make an act of Contrition in the Lower Chapel-two hours of Level Two Punishment. Be grateful that I am in a merciful mood."
"Thank you, Sister Melana,” the Novices chorused. “I acknowledge my most grievous fault."
Melana glared at the two miscreants in turn. “Now!” she screamed. “My patience is not inexhaustible!"
The Novices looked at each other with nervous eyes, and Falun spoke in a faltering voice. “Sister… it was the Reverend Mother's explicit and definite order that we remain with the Supplicant at… at all times during her training."
"That was for periods of basic training only, dolt, and you know it!” Melana snapped. “The Supplicant requires a period of more intense instruction, and I have no need for a pair of fumbling, ignorant, ungrateful Novices criticising my every action! Need I remind you that I am a member of the Anointed Score? If I hear one more word of dissent from you, I will recommend your removal from the Priory, and you know what that could mean. Go and exorcise your guilt at once, before I decide that a more severe punishment is appropriate."
The junior nuns exchanged glances once more, but they seemed to have decided that further opposition was pointless.
"At once, Sister Melana,” Sister Falun cried, touching her forehead to the flagstones, with her fellow Novice following suit. “Thank you for your forbearance."
Rising to their feet, the two Novices made their way across the flagstones of the chamber to a side door Drex knew only too well; the Lower Chapel was a place of contrition and punishment.
"As for you, Supplicant,” the Sister said, raising her steel-tipped martinet, “you will soon regret the day you were born!"
As the door closed behind the departing Novices, Drex reached behind her to fumble with the laces on her gown. She knew only too well what lay in store for her, but she could no longer bring herself to care. She knew she was at fault, and that was all that mattered.
"Stop that!” Melana's voice was harsher than any whip, and Drex let go of the troublesome strings, waiting to hear the details of her well-deserved punishment.
"What do you want, Supplicant?” the nun demanded. This was a formal question, Drex realised, one requiring an answer. “What do you truly want?"
"I want only to serve the Order to the best of my abilities and with all my heart, Sister Melana. I must expiate my most grievous guilt, my base lusts, and my wayward spirit. I must-"
"Don't give me that nonsense, you stupid slut! What do you really want?"
"I want only to serve the Order, to the-"
"That's enough of that! We've finished with Responses. Don't you want to get out of here?"
Drexelica tried to make sense of Sister Melana's words, but she failed, tears of confusion beginning to trickle down her face. “What do you want me to say, Sister Melana? Tell me, and I'll comply! I acknowledge my most grievous fault, and I beg correction!"
The Sister muttered something Drex did not catch. “We're going for a little walk, Supplicant. We are getting out of here. We are going to escape."
Drex felt her jaw gaping, and she tried to encompass the enormity of Melana's words. She failed. “I don't understand, Sister,” she said, feeling the comforting embrace of routine deserting her. “Escape from what?"
"From here, you stupid girl! As your Superior, I order you to open that door and run out of here, as fast as you can."
"Where would I go, Sister Melana? My home is here now."
"I don't care where you go, girl. Just go! Don't worry: I'll be right behind you."
Drex put her hand on the black iron ring on the door leading to the main stairs. It felt cold and somehow odd; since she had become a Supplicant in the Priory, she had been escorted everywhere, and Melana's Novices had opened and closed all the doors.
A command from a Superior must be obeyed at once, but Drexelica felt a tight knot of anxiety in her stomach. She knew something about Sister Melana's order was… wrong.
"Do I have to give my orders twice, Supplicant?” The Sister raised her lash. “Obey at once, or you'll be looking at five hours of third-level Contrition!"
Melana's voice had more effect than the lash would have done, and Drex yanked the door open and began to launch herself up the steep, worn stairs. She retained sufficient awareness to hitch her cumbersome robes clear of her feet, but she had little idea of where she was going.
Panting, she wrenched open another door at the top of the stairs, and she found herself in the Reverend Mother's own temple; the very room to which she had been transported from Crar. Numerous doors led from the bare, stone room, and Drex paused. Which should she take?
"The door opposite the throne, idiot! Go! Quietly, now! We don't want to wake the Reverend Mother; she may be asleep."
Drexelica padded across the stones as silently as she was able, trying to ignore the rising clamour in her mind. The chants that had echoed through her head were beginning to fade, to be replaced by doubts.
Why is Sister Melana doing this? she wondered. It can't be for my good…
Stop that! another mental voice commanded her. Everything Sister Melana does is for our own good. Everything! We don't want to displease her…
The Order is all! another screamed. Obedience and discipline!
Other voices joined in: some haranguing, some cajoling, but each one commanding her attention.
"Do it, idiot!” Melana hissed, pausing by another, open door. “Open it!"
Drex did as she was bidden, revealing another flight of stairs, but she saw Melana slipping through the other portal.
What's she up to?
Don't you know anything? Never question a Superior!
Shut up, curse you! She's using me as a bloody decoy!
The series’ last thought dismissed her inner traitor's objections and burst into her sensorium like bolts of lightning, driving the dull darkness from her mind, illuminating every crevice of her awareness. I won't have a chance! The raddled cow wants me to be caught, just so she can get away!
Letting go of the door handle, Drex made her way over to the exit Melana had used, and made her way up more stairs into a dark corridor with a brightly lit exit. Silhouetted against the gleam, she saw the unmistakable form of the Sister, poised like a sprinter awaiting the whistle.
So that's her game! she thought, seething. Poor little Drex'll make a mad dash for freedom, alerting everyone, while Melana sneaks away in the confusion. Well, this girl isn't as stupid or as indoctrinated as the dear Sister thinks!
Shaking her head to clear the last traces of fuzziness that had built up over the course of the day, she made her way over to the crouching figure, who was staring intently into a large hallway.
"Hello, Sister,” she muttered, and Melana started as if she had been struck by an arrow.
"What in Hades are you doing here, you little whore? Don't you understand plain speech? I gave you a direct order!"
"I thought we might change the plan a little, Sister Melana. I'm not going to be some fox thrown to the hounds so you can save your own precious hide. If you're going, I'm going with you."
Melana gasped, her eyes wide and staring. “You can't still be unaffected after all that training!"
"I'm not. Something inside me still wants to come to attention whenever I think of your precious freaking Order, but I've been keeping a little bit of myself aside during our fun interludes. It's getting smaller and smaller by the day, but I'm still me. I know I can't resist forever, so I'm not willing to take the chance they'll replace you with someone more competent than you."
"I could take you straight back down to the chamber right now!” Melana's eyes blazed with naked hatred. “You'll break in the end."
"I don't doubt it, Sister. But I'll howl the house down before I let you do that. We're leaving right now-together, or not at all. You don't look as if you'll last too long yourself; Lizaveta must be pretty peeved with you for some reason. I don't think she's looking on you with any great favour, sweet lady."
Melana growled like a cornered tigress, and she thrashed her limbs like a petulant child balked in its desires, but she nodded in the end.
"All right, all right-hug the shadows, and I'll follow behind you. Keep it quiet."
Drex stifled a laugh. “Nice try, Sister Melana, but I don't buy it. At the least sign of trouble, you'd develop a limp, or something, and call down the wrath of the avenging Score on me, so you could get away.
"You can go first. I'm a beggar-girl from Griven, and I've had harder mistresses than you; I can handle lack of food and sleep a lot better than you, by the look. I also reckon I could best you if it came to a fight, and I'm willing to try. Are you?"
Melana's eyes locked on Drexelica's, but the former beggar did not look away, in flagrant breach of the rule of Holy Modesty. The nun was the first to avert her gaze, and Drex smiled, confident now that the Sister had seen sense.
"Very well, Grivense slut. You win-for now.” Melana slunk out of the dark haven like a ferret creeping from its hole, and Drex followed closely behind, hugging the walls of a large hall, the edges of which were shrouded in shadow from a parapet above.
She saw nuns bustling through the atrium with brisk efficiency, their heads low, and she began to believe that success was in sight: these Sisters seemed intent only on their own business. A large, imposing door on the far side of the hall must be their goal.
It's all too easy! Surely, Melana could have slipped out at any time-what's all the fuss about?
As the two furtive figures approached the exit, Drex looked up. The chime was soft, but unmistakeable, and it could not be coincidental that it had sounded at this time.
Melana thrust Drexelica into the full light of the hall and ran for the door, as a pair of cowled figures ran towards the tumbling Supplicant.
As she sprawled on the marble floor, Drex felt herself consumed by rage.
You traitorous bitch! she thought, as the two nuns closed upon her.
With a facility born of intensive, forced practice, Drexelica reached mental tendrils through the floor into the earth beneath the Priory, drawing its energy into her. She did not even think as she loosed a bolt of pure, will-sapping despair into the mind of Melana.
Two more nuns appeared, as the Sister, her hand on the door handle, collapsed with a moan of mingled guilt and terror. Drex held the power on for as long as she could, before a bright spark of pain behind her ear turned into a blazing globe of agony.
As if from a distance, she heard the dry, crackling voice of Prioress Lizaveta: “Very good, my dear: I see that Melana's instruction was not totally wasted. I think you'll make a splendid witch. Of course, we'll need to step up the obedience training a little…"
Red light subsumed Drexelica's consciousness, and she knew no more.
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