‘Wires, flowers, it’s all good.’ Nona had to force the levity into her reply. She’d seen what wire-work did to people. It wasn’t pretty.

Sister Apple inspected and dismantled Sharlot’s work at the door first.

‘Passable. You should set the low ones forward though.’ After completing her inspections she turned to view the novices. ‘Join me in the corridor, if you would.’

Sister Apple led the way and the novices clustered around her in the tunnel outside.

‘Every Sister of Discretion is expected to know how to traverse any wire-work she has laid, leaving it intact. It’s often a necessity to pass through at speed in order to encourage others to pursue with a suitable lack of caution.’

Nona felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. She tried to recall the pattern Ara had employed. Two crossing, one horizontal, one chord. Was it the left-to-right diagonal closest to the exit?

‘Sometimes.’ The Poisoner lifted her hand towards the class chamber. ‘In the dark.’ Shadow rose in a black tide, boiling around the doorway, reaching the roof.

‘Who should I pick to show us how speedy they are?’ Sister Apple turned her head until her gaze rested on Nona and Ara. ‘Perhaps two novices who were late?’

‘But, Mistress Shade. Nona won’t be able to see in there!’ Ara looked worried on Nona’s behalf though she herself had only a touch of marjal blood and shadow-work was her only talent; both late-developing and weak.

‘It’s not compulsory,’ Sister Apple said. ‘Unless you want the Grey.’

‘But Nona—’

‘Will not fulfil all the requirements of the Grey if she can’t complete this task. You may enter first, Ara, and after a count of twenty Nona may enter. Your classmates and I will then climb the stairs at a modest pace. If you are not waiting for us at the top, and if Nona is not there within a count of twenty of our arrival, you or she or both of you will have failed and need no longer attend my classes.’

Ara shook her head. ‘Nona—’

‘Go!’ A barked command, all Poisoner and no Apple. ‘One!’

Nona stepped forward and shoved Ara into the darkness. ‘Don’t be in my way when I get to the window.’

‘Two!’

Nona heard footsteps as Ara hurried to the central shaft.

‘Three!’

She allowed herself to be shocked. Even a small error could lead to a wound that might see Ara bleed to death. The loss of a finger, or an ear, or some other important bit of a face was also a distinct possibility. When moving at speed it was a dangerous game to play, even if you could see the wires. This wasn’t a simple poisoning with retchweed or similar. Being late for class had never carried a potentially fatal punishment before.

‘Ten.’

Lessons were over. The closed world of the convent was about to be broken open. The endgame had arrived.

‘Fifteen.’

Nona reached for her clarity trance, picturing a dead candle and the memory of a flame flickering above it. Her clarity couldn’t pierce the shadows but it made other things clear. Clarity brought her to the realization that Apple didn’t expect her to try the challenge. This was a goodbye. She should take the Red.

‘Nineteen. Twenty.’

Nona ran into the night-dark room.

‘Nona! What in the Ancestor’s name are you doing?’ Sister Apple’s cry rang with genuine distress. ‘This is madness!’

Cold stone greeted Nona’s outstretched palms, her clarity enough to bring her to the gap between the left window and the centre one that she and Ara had trapped. Knowing that Apple hadn’t intended her to attempt the task brought both relief and dismay. It meant the nun had wished her no harm but it also meant that Apple didn’t believe anyone without basic shadow-work fit for the Grey.

Nona felt for the edge of the window shaft. On occasion she missed Keot’s acidic commentary but she’d never really missed his violation of her body until she needed to see in the dark. As unpleasant as having an ancient devil invade your eyeballs was … it could be very handy.

Despite the daylight outside, Sister Apple’s darkness filled the window shaft. Nona knew where the wires lay but to trust to memories made with no particular urgency could prove suicidal. A moment of inspiration settled on her. She defocused her sight. With proper illumination the thread-scape overlaid whatever she would normally see, and those visual clues helped make sense of the confusion of threads, a near infinite complexity of them springing from every surface, passing through each other and solid objects, leaving the world at strange angles. In darkness the mass of threads was normally far more bewildering. However, Nona already knew how the chamber looked. She had spent a good portion of her life in it. She knew the shape of the window, the nature of the stone, even the weave of the magic that had stolen the daylight. And, more by chance than judgement, she had examined the threads of the Ark-steel wires. This prior acquaintance, combined with a rough knowledge of their position, allowed her to pick out from a chaotic background the taut sections placed in her path.

Even so, Nona moved far more slowly than she would have done had she been able to see. With daylight she could spot the telltale wedges, and move her head for a glimmer along the wires’ length. She advanced on all fours, having to negotiate a second, third, and fourth wire before being able to wholly discount the first from her considerations. Novices had been badly cut before when manoeuvring to pass a new wire and forgetting the one now level with their knee or foot.

Passing the seventh wire, Nona felt a tickle along the side of her left calf. No pain, though, not until the sharp sting as she adjusted her position and moved on.

At the cliff face Sister Apple’s shadows boiled away into the day. Nona stuck her head beneath the last wire and looked up. Ara was twenty yards above her with ten more to go. She was climbing barefoot, presumably having abandoned her shoes in the cavern in anticipation.

Nona had to force herself to patience. Not until every part of her was past the last wire would she be safe. If clinging to the outside of the Rock of Faith in a Corridor wind could be considered safe.

She drew herself clear as swiftly as she could while still remaining sure that she knew where each limb was relative to each wire. A few moments later she hung above the drop to the plains some three hundred yards below.

The delay in the window shaft had left Nona lagging behind Ara by a considerable distance. More than Sister Apple’s count of twenty could account for. Unless she closed the gap there would be no way she could make it in time. In moments Ara would disappear over the edge to the left of the treacherous section between Blade and Heart Hall. Seconds later she would be running around the back of Heart Hall. Finally a sprint along the length of the winery and across some open space would bring her to the gate that sealed the Shade steps.

Nona launched herself upwards, disdaining any attempt at finding handholds and footholds. She drove her flaw-blades into the Rock itself and hauled herself up by the strength of her arms. Each lunge risked a chunk of the limestone fracturing away and taking her with it, but the blood was boiling in her veins, a sense of being wronged drove her, and she fought her way towards the heights, screaming with effort at first, then grunting as she saved her breath.

She climbed much faster than Ara who had to rely on fingers and toes, but would it be enough to close the gap? Rather than crab across the cliff aiming for the edge where Ara had pulled herself over at the back of Heart Hall Nona made a direct ascent. This brought her to the sheer southern wall of Blade Hall at a point where it stood flush with the edge of the Rock. Further to her left a ledge started that would allow her to track around the building, ducking and climbing a series of buttresses. This obstacle course was what had forced Ara across the rock-face towards Heart Hall. Nona just kept going up, plunging her blades into the stone blocks as she climbed Blade Hall. She hoped Sister Tallow never saw the damage.