Quest (3 page)

‘No wonder they’re sending her to Temple Tenebrak,’ said one Sister after a particularly fraught session which had ended with Katia in tears yet again. ‘I’ve never seen a novice so unhappy.’

‘Yes, but Cheral will know how to deal with her. There’s no Novice Mistress to equal our Sister in Tenebrak.’

They exchanged grins. Cheral’s sharp tongue was a byword in the Sisterhood, yet those she had trained remained fond of her ever afterwards.

So Katia was exchanged again and found herself among another group of strange girls, one of three wagonloads now travelling together on the last stage of their journey. She couldn’t help noticing how lush the fields and woods of the Claim of Tenebron were. Tenebron, first of all the claims, the history books said. Tenebron, the place of beginnings.

Even here Those of the Serpent had gained a foothold, the new Sisters admitted over the camp fire, but their shrines were few and had had little effect upon the life of the Sisterhood.

When the wagons entered the ancient city of Tenebrak, Katia was relieved to see no sign of black robes or serpent staffs in the streets, only cheering crowds in brightly-coloured festival garments, who greeted them and showered flower petals in the path of the proudly-smiling girls.

Katia couldn’t return their smiles. Tallest of the novices, very thin now, with dark-circled eyes, she let the flowers strike her body and fall to the floor of the wagon unheeded. Her green eyes were feverishly bright, like jewels in her pale face, and her dark hair cascaded to her waist unbraided.

Not until they were entering the huge grey mass of Temple Tenebrak itself, did Katia stir. She raised her eyes to the high walls that were about to swallow her up and shuddered visibly as the tall bronze gates clanged shut behind them. The other girls had to push her from the wagon, for she seemed unable to move.

QUEST Shannah Jay 9

When the Novice Mistress bustled out to take charge of the new girls, one of the Sisters whispered in her ear for a moment, and as Cheral’s shrewd eyes flickered over Katia, she nodded in acknowledgment before leading the girls into the temple where they would live for the next few years.

First, Cheral took them into the Hall of the God for their welcoming ceremony. The Sisters and older novices were all waiting, arrayed in ceremonial robes and headdresses. This was a time of rejoicing. Their singing was of such piercing sweetness that it brought tears to Katia’s eyes, and their dancing was more graceful than she would have believed possible.

Then the Circle formed, and for the first time the newcomers took part in a Gathering, that mystical communion of Sisters with their Brother the God. As its peace and joy washed over them, even Katia’s grinding misery abated for a few precious minutes.

Afterwards Herra, the Elder Sister, went to the foot of the legendary Statue of the God and spoke kind words of welcome. Behind her, the strange forms carved into the stone showed the wondering novices the Seven Manifestations of the God their Brother, whom he had sent down among them. To the rear of the statue was a darkness that twisted your eyes in another direction, however hard you tried to look at it.

Katia stared at the Elder Sister, who had been heard of even as far away as the High Alder. An awesome person, Herra, and famous throughout the land, for she was over two hundred years old and wise, they said, beyond belief.

But today Katia could not help noticing how tired Herra looked, how dreadfully bone-weary, and her welcome speech was brief.

Ceremonial over, Cheral showed the novices the long, narrow dormitories where their cohort would live, then the hall where everyone ate and the day-chambers in which they would meet to learn and practise the Disciplines. By now Katia was not the only girl drooping with weariness, so the Novice Mistress hurried them into the bathing chambers, fed them a light meal and sent them to bed.

‘That one is going to be a problem,’ Cheral thought to herself as she walked briskly down to the Sisters’ chambers afterwards, ‘or ninety years have taught me nothing about novices.’

But she soon forgot Katia in her worry over the Elder Sister, who was failing daily. Herra, who had lived longer than any other Sister in their long history must soon risk another Renewal of her ageing body, and they all feared to lose her. Indeed, we cannot survive without her, thought Cheral for the hundredth time. And even with Herra’s skills and wisdom, who knows if our Sisterhood will survive? Those of the Serpent grow ever stronger, even in Tenebrak.

She shivered and forced her thoughts into more cheerful avenues. It was not for her to doubt their Brother’s power and wisdom.

Cheral watched over the Elder Sister’s health like a fussy grandmother during the next month or two, for she was one of the few who dared to chide Herra and scold her into resting. The Novice Mistress was herself becoming something of a figure in the Sisterhood, though she scorned to pay attention to that. What were a mere hundred and sixty years of life, compared to over two hundred and thirty? What were her mundane Gifts, compared to those of Herra?

Cheral knew better than anyone that she had never demonstrated any exceptional Gifts; she just excelled in supervising the everyday tasks without which no community could exist, and also in first-stage training of novices.

Such Gifts as she had were in the small things in life, not prophecy and healing. Well, and why not? Such things were as necessary as the more exotic Gifts and powers.

During the next few weeks Cheral worried because she could not give Katia’s cohort as much attention as usual.

But there were so many things to do and so few Sisters to do them nowadays, and Herra must come first. Without Herra, their world would be lost to the evil spread by Those of the Serpent.

#####

QUEST Shannah Jay 10

The wind sobbed around the fretted stonework of Temple Tenebrak and shook showers of petals from the garlands hanging by the gate. In the novices' quarters Katia shivered and huddled under the thin coverlet, which was all each girl was allowed. At home when the wind shrieked around the houses like this, they called it demon's weather. She had used the expression when they were getting ready for the final Gathering of the day, and the other girls had laughed at her. They were always laughing at her country ways here in Tenebrak. Kelandra Clod, some of them called her, though only when the Novice Mistress was out of earshot.

Katia had stopped telling them that she didn't come from Kelandra. Why bother, when most of them had never even heard of the High Alder? Why, oh why, had she been
chosen
? She muffled a sob in the pillow and curled into a tight ball on the hard mattress. Who wanted to wear a long grey novice's gown that tripped you up if you tried to run? Who wanted to live enclosed by thick stone walls, even if they were beautifully carved? One real flower was more beautiful than a hundred stone ones! And who wanted to spend long hours indoors learning the Disciplines and the temple rituals, when they could be outside in the lush green beauty of the wildwoods? She stuffed the side of her hand into her mouth to stifle another sob. She mustn’t wake the others.

In the small chamber behind the statue of the God, the Elder Sister of Temple Tenebrak was also wakeful. Since her last Renewal a few months previously, Herra needed very little sleep, so she often took the night watch. In spite of her great age, her short russet hair showed no grey and her limbs were almost as supple as a girl's. She sat comfortably cross-legged on the mat, her blue robe spread around her, outstretched palms resting easily on her knees in the position seemly to one who
listens
to the God. In her headband, one kushlan flower gleamed silver-white and its delicate perfume wafted around her every time she moved her head.

In front of her, on a low table, stood the farspeaker which their Brother, in his new Manifestation, had sent down to Temple Tenebrak. This strange box showed them pictures of many wonderful things, as well as pictures of this Manifestation of the God himself. Herra was a little disappointed at his appearance, if truth be told. She had dreamed of beings with great golden wings, like the Lord Terraccalliss, who had been the Second Manifestation of their Brother. Instead, she found herself speaking to a young man, not even particularly good-looking, and dressed in the most ugly garments she had ever seen.

The farspeaker began to hiss and Herra focused all her attention on it. At first her Brother didn’t tell her what he wanted. He showed her some pictures instead, and told her to speak her thoughts about them aloud. As she did this, she automatically memorised every detail of what she saw, to review later at her leisure. 'A birth chamber . . . In Setherak . . . The High Lady, is it not?' She gasped and stretched out a hand. 'Brother, what are they doing to her?

Brother, stop them, or she will die!'

The image vanished, and another scene took its place. 'Another birth chamber . . . Peneron . . . The High Lady again . . . Brother, stop them! They're killing her, too! Why do you not stop them?'

When he spoke, his voice was bitter. 'I can't stop them, Herra. I'm too far away. Can your Sisters help?'

She rocked to and fro in anguish. 'We can't get there in time. Both High Ladies are dying now!'

'The babies, then? Couldn't you try to save them?'

She sat motionless for a moment, then nodded. 'Perhaps. I must use the farspeaker, though.' Unlike some of her Sisters, Herra didn’t flinch from the use of machinery. The God's Wonders were there for just such an emergency as this, though not to be used in their everyday life. He had explained this to her the previous year, when he first manifested himself and placed farspeakers in all the temples.

She stood up and moved the little stick on the side of the box. With the faint hissing sound echoing around the chamber, she spoke to her Sisters on watch in the great temples of Setherak and Penerak. Before the echo of her voice had faded, her faraway Sisters were running through the streets of those cities, using the Disciplines to speed their footsteps. Those Sisters would give their lives, if necessary, to do the bidding of the God their Brother.

Herra continued to watch the pictures and pray for a peaceful next life for the two beautiful women who lay dying, in spite of their great wealth, in spite of their high rank. Their beauty seemed to fade before her eyes as the attendants worked their evil.

QUEST Shannah Jay 11

When it was over and the two women lay dead in pools of blood, the attendants turned their attention to the babies, strong, healthy little creatures, who lay kicking by their dead mothers. Their faint wailing cries tore at Herra's heart. As the attendants started to smother the royal infants, working carefully so as not to mark the tender flesh, Herra thought for a moment that her Sisters had failed. But no! While the babes were still squirming, the draperies moved and her Sisters entered each birth chamber.

Herra watched as they
stilled
those who mocked the art of healing. The attendants stood there frozen, unable to move, while her Sisters wrapped the infants in soft cloths and carried them away to safety. She sighed in relief, but stayed on in front of the screen to keep watch.

As the farspeaker showed first one, then another of the birth chambers, Herra saw both sets of attendants recover the use of their bodies and discover that the babies were missing. She smiled grimly as they panicked and conferred frantically. Such was their fear of their secret masters that each group sent one of their number to buy a newly-dead baby from the Shambles. You could buy anything in the Shambles and babies died there every day. The poorfolk lived close to desperation in these hard times, with the Serpent gaining power in the slums that had begun to fester like sores on the flanks of every great city of the world.

Later she saw dead babies with the same colouring as those recently borne by the High Ladies smuggled in, washed and dressed in embroidered silk. They would be presented to the two grieving Lords Claimant as the stillborn children of their wives, though to Herra it showed in their faces that these were the ill-fed offspring of the poor. Strange to see identical responses from murderers separated by days of travel. How fear controlled those who served the Serpent!

To fear for one's life is to lose it a hundred times.

Herra had often paused at those words in the Book of Sayings of the God. Fear paralysed people, made them forget what they knew, led them to act foolishly. Sisters were taught not to give way to it. Yet that was the least of the things they learned. The Disciplines trained the Sisters to use the Gifts born in them and made them strong beyond other people's wildest dreams - strong enough, it was to be hoped, to survive this Age of Discord.

Such Gifts were mainly bestowed on those born of the bloodlines nurtured by the Sisterhood, and had been passed down the generations by careful marriages. They ripened at puberty, at which time the most gifted of the girls were
chosen
to enter the Sisterhood and continue with the great Quest which would become the purpose of their whole lives.

But sometimes, in spite of the Sisters' watchfulness, Evil grew stronger in the world and an Age of Discord like this one developed. Throughout Herra's long lifetime Those of the Serpent had multiplied in number and spread their poisonous ways across claim after claim. It had taken a while for the Sisters to realise how the Servants of the Serpent were working on men's minds: the drugged incense, the hypnotic chants and the special blood-wine drunk by those men initiated in the ways of the Inner Shrine. What sort of god wanted his followers to offer him pain? It became a point of honour among some of the younger men to endure in smiling silence the first whipping on the black altar of the Shrine, above which hung a huge carved serpent.

First the land of Setheron, then Garshlian had fallen to the Serpent, just before she reached her hundredth birthday. Setheron had been an easy conquest, with the first Sen-Sether, the Lord Claimant's own brother, lending Those of the Serpent his support. And when that Sen-Sether died, his son carried on both his name and allegiances.