LITMIR.BIZ

       8

      Nona liked the dormitories better than the nun’s cell of the night before. The building had three storeys, Red and Grey classes dividing the ground floor between them in two long, low rooms, Mystic and Holy each having their own floor, with study rooms for the Holies at the top. The beds were larger and more comfortable too, being raised on legs, each with a mattress of folded blankets over boards. Nona lay on hers while the class moved about her, chatting and getting ready for sleep. In the bed to Nona’s left Ghena had already crawled beneath her covers and lay dead to the world.

      Nona stretched, yawning. The exercises in Blade, one punch and one throw repeated over and over, never quite to Sister Tallow’s satisfaction, had left her sore and sweat-soaked. The bathhouse afterwards took away the ache and stink of exercise and left in its place a warm and bone-deep weariness. If Clera hadn’t reached down a hand to help her out of the pool Nona suspected that she might still be there, floating helpless amid the steam.

      Ruli came to sit at the end of Nona’s bed, her long hair pushed up into a nightcap bulging comically atop her head. ‘I’m surprised you can keep your eyes open after that.’ She nodded towards Ghena’s bed.

      ‘Did I do all right?’ Nona asked.

      ‘You were great! You’re fast, Nona! Ghena doesn’t have a lot of technique because she’s only been here three months, but she’s really, really quick, a prime for sure. Only Clera’s quicker than Ghena and some say—’

      ‘They say I’m the fastest the convent has seen in years.’ Clera sat on the next bed along and favoured Nona with a dangerous smile. ‘Hunska full-blood.’

      ‘Are there other convents?’ Nona remained flat on her back, the blanket pulled to her neck, gaze returning to the dance of shadows on the ceiling.

      ‘Six.’ Ruli began to count them off on her fingers. ‘Silent Patience, Chaste Devotion, Gerran’s Crag—’

      ‘Sweet Mercy is the only one to teach Blade, Path, or Shade. The rest just train Holy Sisters.’

      ‘Just?’ Jula from a nearby bed, still sounding sour about her lost hair.

      ‘Holy Sisters are as important to the Ancestor as any other sister,’ Ruli chipped in with a conciliatory tone. ‘The abbess is a Holy Sister and she’s in charge of us all.’

      Nona let them talk and watched the shadows play. She didn’t want to see Arabella, strangely alien now with her pink scalp and patchy blonde stubble. She didn’t want to catch the girl’s eye and start another round of accusations. Jula had taken her shaving with poor grace but her reaction was as nothing compared to Arabella’s outburst. Nona had wondered for a moment if Sister Tallow would have to hold her down …

      Abbess Glass had said Nona was free to leave at any time, but when Arabella had demanded to go home in the tone of someone used to being obeyed, Sister Tallow had said no.

      ‘I’m not letting a novice hack at me with a razor because some wild-land peasant stole my belt!’ And with that Arabella had started to stride towards the main doors.

      What followed had been ugly to watch, but no matter how Arabella raged or how dire her threats the nun had shown no hint of backing down, and eventually a tearful Arabella Jotsis sat in the chair provided while Jula removed her golden hair with a long razor and a trembling hand.

      By the time it was Arabella’s turn to shave Jula’s head she did so with a steady grip on the blade, her eyes red-rimmed and full of cold accusation aimed in Nona’s direction.

      Nona opened her eyes with a start. Sleep had nearly taken her. She rolled her head to the left. Clera sat on the edge of the bed in her long white nightgown, the copper penny she so often played with in her hand. The other girls were settling into their beds. ‘We’re friends then?’ she asked without preamble, watching Nona’s eyes.

      ‘“Friend” can be a dangerous word,’ Nona said.

      Clera laughed. ‘Friend? Really?’

      ‘It is if you mean it.’ Nona didn’t smile. She thought of Amondo and of Saida. ‘Friend’ was a bond. Much of what people did, how they acted, confused Nona. But ‘friend’ she understood. A friend you would die for. Or kill for.

      ‘Well I mean it.’ Clera let her own smile slip.

      ‘Then we are.’

      It seemed enough for Clera. She rose from Nona’s bed and went to her own, flipping the penny once and humming some tune, low and sweet.

      Nona let exhaustion close her eyes. The dormitories were heated by the same pipes that ran in the bathhouse and cells. She hadn’t imagined that commoners ever wholly escaped the cold, perhaps the emperor before his ever-blazing fires, but not girls like her, not like this. One of the high windows was even a quarter open to stop it being too muggy, as if heat were something that could be given to the wind rather than something precious to be hoarded.

      In the village mothers cut their children’s hair to a fuzz whenever the weather turned. When the ice-wind surrendered to the Corridor wind and the cold grew less bitter the knives came out. They did it to reduce lice, fleas, and nits to a manageable level, but Nona had always felt it marked the start of something new: new growth, new possibilities. Her last thoughts before dreams stole her were that if a shaved head were the worst thing to have

Скачать книгу