Grey Sister

“Joeli didn’t come to you?” Abbess Glass asked. That didn’t sound like Joeli Namsis at all. The girl would go to the sanatorium with a splinter and try to stay for a week. Especially if she could lay the blame for the splinter at someone else’s feet.

“No.” Sister Rose shot the novice a sympathetic look. “That was unreasonable of me. She couldn’t be expected to brave an ice-wind in her condition. But if she had sent word I would have come. Sister Rail really should have told me.”

“Why would you not seek Sister Rose’s attention?” Sister Apple stood from her chair and advanced on Joeli.

“I didn’t want to bother—”

“You’re bothering all of us now, Joeli. You bothered Mistress Academia before lunch. And yet you didn’t present yourself to our own sweet Rosie to ease your suffering?” She stalked around the novice, peering at her neck. “Show me your hands.”

Joeli instinctively hid them in the pockets of her habit. Apple reached out and took the closest one, pulling it towards her face, palm up. “Come.” She led the novice to the table, holding the hand towards the candles. “See?”

“I see four fingers and a thumb.” Judge Irvone covered a yawn.

Sister Apple ignored him. “This yellow staining here. Do you see it?”

Abbess Glass leaned forward. The girl’s fingers were faintly yellow here and there, the colour of an old bruise almost faded from sight.

“Wodewort and burn-cotton. Careful preparation with an alkali base gives you Ulhen’s ointment.” Sister Apple released Joeli’s hand.

Sister Rose scraped her chair back and came to see. “It has a role in the treatment of some chronic skin conditions but you have to be pretty desperate to use it. The main side-effect is severe bruising.” She stepped back and looked Joeli in the face. The novice bowed her head. “Oh, Joeli! You didn’t?”

“She choked me.” Joeli spoke softly and without conviction, staring down at her hands.

“I’ve a pill that will get the truth out of you soon enough!” Sister Apple turned to make for the door.

“Stay.” The abbess raised her hand. “Potions and pills have no role at convent table. We have no evidence of their accuracy nor Church sanction to rely on such.” She ignored Apple’s raised eyebrows. Sometimes the nun’s enthusiasm for her own works overrode common sense. Such cards were not to be revealed or played over novices and before an audience like Irvone Galamsis. “I will say, however, that it seems impossible that we condemn Novice Nona to any harsh punishment on the basis of what we have seen and heard. Both of you girls are confined to convent this seven-day and neither of you will eat lunch until the seven-day after that. If there is any more fighting between you I shall be asking Sister Tallow to break out the wire-willow. Now go. And count yourselves lucky! Run!”

The novices hastened to the door. “Not you, Zole.”

Zole turned as the other two vanished through the doorway. For a moment she seemed to be considering whether to obey. Then with a shrug she closed the door and returned to the table.

“So, to your business, Irvone,” Abbess Glass said. “You came with a petition concerning Novice Zole.”

“Indeed. Once more I come seeking the return of a novice.” He inclined his head, full of gravitas, consulting the notes his assistant had set before him. It had always amused Glass quite how closely the judge resembled the statues and images the heretic Scithrowl made of the Ancestor, the mane of his white hair and blade of his nose making him seem wisdom incarnate rather than the most corruptible of Verity’s three high court judges. Irvone cleared his throat. “Fortunately on this occasion the novice is to be returned to the bosom of her loving family rather than to her appointment with the gallows.”

“And the loving family in question would be . . .”

“Our own esteemed royal family!” Irvone smiled. “Young Zole is to be returned to House Lansis itself, and the arms of her mother, the honourable Sherzal.”

A low mutter ran the length of the table. Sister Wheel struggled to contain her outrage, and failed. “The Argatha belongs to the Church! She’s not some royal toy!”

The judge kept his eyes on Abbess Glass, ignoring Wheel’s outburst.

“The emperor’s sisters have standing invitations to visit the convent any time they like,” Abbess Glass said. “I would be delighted to discuss this matter in person with Sherzal.”

Irvone forced a smile and spread his hands. “I fear the honourable Sherzal is uncertain about the nature of her welcome after the wild slanders spread at court at the time of the convent’s . . . unfortunate loss.”

“Certainly she would be still more welcome if she came visiting with the shipheart that was stolen from us. But we’re hardly likely to take the emperor’s sister prisoner or raise our hands against her are we, Irvone? We are brides of the Ancestor, pledged to peace.” She gestured at the stern faces around the table. Sister Tallow in particular looked no more than a blink from killing someone.

Irvone glanced around the seated nuns with a nervous frown. “That’s as may be, abbess. However, Sherzal is within her rights to demand the return of her child.”

“Her ward,” Abbess Glass corrected.

“Adopted child.”

“Adopted in absentia? She was her ward when she arrived.”

“A recent development,” the judge acknowledged. “But entirely legal. Zole is Sherzal’s heir. Trained in her palace for some years before being entrusted into your care until such time—”

“Until such time as I see fit to discharge her from her pledge of service.”

“Until such time as Sherzal, Zole’s parent and guardian, calls for her return.” Irvone turned to his assistant who already had the uppermost of his books open at a ribbon-marked page.

“Yes. Yes.” Abbess Glass waved the matter aside. “Again, Irvone, you come to us with a matter properly covered by Church law. Sherzal should take any concerns she may have to High Priest Nevis and they will be dealt with through the correct ecclesiastical channels.”

“It’s a bad time to be imposing Church law over secular law, abbess.” The judge shrugged within his robe.

“One is not imposed over the other, judge.” Abbess Glass reached for her water again, mouth dry. Irvone Galamsis might be greedy and lacking morals, but he wasn’t stupid. After three years of narrowing, the Corridor ran with rumours of fresh wars. When the ice advanced something else had to give. Such times were poor ones to remind an emperor that some of the empire’s most deadly resources were not his to control but must be lent to his purpose through the goodwill of the Church. “Each law has its own domain where it applies without challenge from the other.”

“Reaching for Church law can get your fingers burned . . .” The judge let his eyes linger on Abbess Glass’s right hand. “In any event, I had the idea that under Church law the issue of family rights versus convent authority over novices was somewhat vexed. Is that territory you really wish to wander into?”

“Was there anything else, judge?”

Judge Irvone sat back in his chair, impassive save for a hard gleam in his eyes. “The honourable Sherzal was most insistent that Zole not go on the ice in any of the exercises your novices may undertake. I’m sure we can all agree on that. After all, none of us wish to lose the child.”