Ry and I cornered Hilga after the midday meal today. We went to her office in the top of the tower, where no one could hear.
Where Sister Rose couldn’t hear.
“Please,” Ryber began before Hilga had even reached her chair. “Please be our mentor again. We know you have duties as Head Sister, but Rose is … she isn’t …”
“She isn’t very good,” I said bluntly—exactly like Ry told me not to do. “She’s ancient, and she—”
“She is the oldest Sister here,” Hilga snapped, dropping emphatically onto her stiff-backed chair. She was wearing her Stern Head Sister face. “Rose has more knowledge and experience than anyone else. You should be grateful she was willing to take over after me.”
“But we want to learn more,” Ry pleaded.
This was a half lie since I had no interest in learning more. That was really only Ryber. But I was dreadfully sick of Rose.
She means well. Sleeper knows she does, but her Sight overpowers her most days—a common ailment for older Sisters and one of the reasons Sisters remain at the Convent their whole lives. It is too hard to live in the outside world with the Sight.
These days, it seems too hard for Sister Rose to live in this world. She’ll forget mid-sentence what she was teaching us, and no matter how much Ry and I try to remind her, it’s rare that she’ll ever actually circle back to finish a lesson.
Instead she always feeds us the same phrase, “You’ll understand once you’re Summoned.”
It’s so thrice-damned frustrating!
But my argument wasn’t nearly as compelling as Ry’s, so I let my Threadsister do the rest of the talking. She is the better orator, and also the more desperate party. Plus, the Rook was on his perch, and it had been a few weeks since I’d seen him last.
The Rook is my favorite person at the Convent aside from Ry. And no, he isn’t technically a person, but he acts like one. I’ve never seen an animal that understands so much of what we say—much less one who insists we get his name right.
It’s not Rook, but THE Rook. He’ll bite you if you get it wrong.
“He belongs to the Convent,” Rose said this very morning when he swooped in during breakfast. “He is as old as the Crypts and will outlive us all.”
“How is that even possible?” Ry had demanded.
“You’ll understand when you’re Summoned.”
That had been the last grain of salt to flood the sea. Ryber grabbed my wrist, and I knew it was time. Finally, we were going to beg Sister Hilga for a new mentor.
After giving the Rook a few good scratches beside his beak (I love the way he purrs! Even the kitchen cat doesn’t purr with this much satisfaction), I honed in on the argument unfolding behind me.
“Surely,” Ryber insisted, “not all questions must be answered with ‘You’ll understand when you’re Summoned!’ There must be something we can learn now. Fazimeh said she learned about the Standing Stones and the glamour spell yesterday. And Oriya said she learned about the Twelve and the origins of magic.
“Tanzi and I are some of the oldest Serving Sisters here, yet we don’t know anything about these pieces of Sightwitch lore. We are woefully behind, Hilga. Please.”
It was an excellent speech. Not that I was surprised. Ry could convince ice to melt. Still, I had to fight the urge to break into applause.
As if sensing my delight, Ry glanced back at me with one of her sly half smiles.
Her smile widened when Hilga huffed a sigh of defeat.
“I suppose Rose is too old to be teaching.”
“She is,” I confirmed, scooting toward the desk.
“And I suppose, at your ages—how old are you now?”
“Fifteen,” Ryber declared as I said, “Fourteen.”
“Then yes, your educations should be further along.” Hilga fixed us both with a wince. “Do you really not know how the glamour spell hides the Convent from the rest of the world? Or how its magic is bound to the Standing Stones?”
“No,” we barked in unison.
Her wince deepened. “Then you indeed have much to catch up on. Here.” She shoved out of her chair, aiming for the wall of books behind the Rook. He fluttered with annoyance when she shooed him aside to pull not one, not two, but three massive tomes off the shelf.
For half a breath, I regretted our decision to come here. MORE WORK was not really what I had wanted.
But then I caught sight of the elation in Ryber’s dark eyes. Her fingers were clutched at her heart, a sign she was itching to pluck the books right out of Hilga’s hands.
“Read these,” Hilga ordered, offering the books.
As I’d guessed, Ryber snatched them up. She even gave a little squeal of delight.
“Then,” Hilga went on, “once you have read them, I want you to come back to me for a list of subjects that you will be researching further in the Crypts.”
I tried not to grimace.
I hated the Crypts.
“You will continue to meet with Sister Rose each day, and then once a week with me. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I muttered, wondering how I was going to fit in time for my daily game of ring-ball with Birgit and Yenna. (Birgit has gotten very full of herself since she beat me last week. It’s intolerable.)
Meanwhile, Ry bounced on her toes. So much excitement! “Thank you, Sister Hilga,” she breathed. “Thank you so much!”
Then, as if she feared Hilga would change her mind, she grabbed my wrist and rushed me out of the office.
Now, as I write this, she sits curled up on her side of the bed reading about the Twelve Paladins. Already, she’s halfway through the massive book—and already, she’s made notes to summarize it all, since she knows I’ll never crack open that ancient cover.