Red Sister

‘Like the ones in Path Tower,’ Hessa said. ‘Sigils of negation, specific to the Path.’ She squinted. ‘And some more general ones. All negation, though.’

The two stepped closer. Nothing happened. They faced each other, Ara’s lips twitching with the echoes of her serenity mantra, Willum ignoring her, staring at his fists, clenched before him.

‘Ah.’ The gasp escaped as Nona’s pain flared. She raised the cure to her lips, her arm responding jerkily to her demands.

‘Nona!’ Hessa hissed, reaching out to stop her. ‘Are you mad?’

‘P-poisoned!’

‘Ask for help then! We’re in the Academy. There are more marjal blood-workers here than in the rest of empire put together!’

‘W-what’s he doing?’ Nona nodded towards Willum to distract Hessa. She wasn’t going to put herself in the hands of the Academics. The man sitting behind the table opposite was probably the one who had armoured Raymel against her blades. What other favours might he be prepared to do for the Tacsis?

‘He’s building a wall,’ Hessa said, not looking away. ‘An invisible wall. There are faults in … everything … flaws in the stuff of the world, places where the Path has slipped and left a defect. Willum is rotating them and gathering them into a wall. They say it feels like glass if you touch it. It’s a rare talent. His wall is static but they say grandmasters can make mobile walls. The Durn-mage was said to have a flaw-sword, an invisible blade that would cut through any steel raised against him!’ Hessa put her hand out to cover Nona’s, keeping the vial from her mouth. ‘Don’t!’

‘I need to. I—’ But as Nona spoke the edge of her agony dulled and her rigid muscles released her to slump forward, retching acid onto the floor.

‘He’s finished.’

Nona straightened, ignoring the disgusted look from the student to her left. Willum stood waiting. If he’d built any kind of wall she couldn’t see it. Minutes passed while Ara settled into her trance, Nona’s pain retreating to a dull ache and sharp nausea. She wanted to be back in the tunnels beneath the convent – both to see how close Yisht was to the shipheart, and to seek a repeat of the relief it had given her the last time she had felt so ill.

Finally Ara spoke, her voice deep and resonant. ‘You’re prepared?’

Willum nodded, wetting his lips.

Nona felt the echoes of Ara’s footfalls as she walked the Path. One. Two. Three. Four. Ara had never walked so far. Perhaps in the presence of the Ark even Nona could manage a second step. Five.

Ara returned, jolting into her body, her hair flying up into a golden cloud about her head. The energies of the Path wrapped her in bright potential, shuddering through her flesh. Nona thought it would be too much for her but Ara swept the power forward and sent it lancing towards Willum in a jagged blaze that looked like lightning might if it were set on fire.

Ara’s attack struck Willum’s wall a yard from where he stood in a detonation that shook the room. Nona caught a brief impression of white-hot energy flattening out and spilling around a half-dome shape, just a faint echo of it penetrating to strike the student’s chest where the gold-worked sigils absorbed it as if they were holes into some other place.

A light round of applause went around the galleries. Willum gave a hesitant bow and retreated to the room he’d come from.

‘What? Did he win?’ Nona asked.

‘No. Ara did. Willum would have been injured if he hadn’t been wearing a sigil-robe – and they’re worth more than most lords’ estates, so not part of the standard Academic’s wardrobe. But it was impressive that he could stop so much of such a powerful blast. It’s not as if Ara would be able to do another in a hurry.’

The Academics set to their discussions again, the senior man putting questions to Sister Pan in quick succession. Nona leaned forward to look at Markus. He’d grown into his looks over the past two years, or perhaps he’d always been striking and she hadn’t noticed. Handsome, but not in the Raymel Tacsis mould, where the arrogance made something ugly of even features and a square jaw.

‘What can you do?’ she asked him.

‘I’m an empath.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Well … I can make you laugh.’

‘You can’t!’

He pulled a face, tongue out to the side, eyes crossed. A laugh burst from her, causing the discussion at the end of the hall to miss a beat.

‘That’s cheating,’ she hissed.

‘Isn’t that what magic is?’ He grinned. ‘But I can. I could reach into your head and make you laugh … or cry. Or if we’re pitted against each other I could make you surrender.’

‘I don’t know about the laughing or crying but you couldn’t make me surrender.’

‘Well. I’d give it a good try.’ Markus smiled, without heat.

‘It wouldn’t work. Giving up is not something I do. You do remember me, don’t you?’ But as she said it Nona wondered what he might remember of her. She remembered him as a serious, competitive boy, a boy she saw few signs of there in the Academics’ hall. Two years at the monastery had changed him, or perhaps it had been his power that changed him. Perhaps you couldn’t reach into people’s heads without part of them reaching back and shaping you too.

‘… Novice Nona and Proxim Luta.’ The senior Academic had gained his feet while Nona’s thoughts had been elsewhere.

The third student stood from her stool, a tall girl with fair hair that hung across half her face. The visible eye was dark and hostile above a cheekbone that looked sharp enough to draw blood.

Nona followed Sister Pan into the preparation room. Her nausea subsided as she entered. She stood puzzled but relieved, gazing at the paintings hung around the walls while Sister Pan closed the door. Academics in black robes looked down at her on every side, their painted faces uniformly severe.

‘Your opponent is a shadow-weaver, Nona.’

‘She’s going to hide and jump out on me?’ Nona frowned. ‘Can I hit her?’

‘No!’ Sister Pan stamped her foot. ‘No hitting!’ She pushed her chin forward. ‘Or kicking, or biting, or head butting, or any other damn thing that Sister Tallow taught you. This is Path.’

‘But I can hardly touch the Path. And how’s that going to help against shadows? Can I blast her?’

‘I don’t think you can, Nona, no. But if you suddenly develop the facility – and stranger things have happened this close to the Ark – she will be wearing the sigil-robe and yes, you can blast her. It would be remiss of me not to add that the robe is rated up to ten steps. More than that and you risk putting a hole through an Academy student. Which would be a bad thing.’

‘So … what can I use? Harsh language?’ Nona frowned. ‘And what can she do to me?’

‘Shadow-work is deeper than what Sister Apple has yet shown you. Concealment is the least of such manipulation. A shadow-worker learns to call fear. Others may be able to bleed the darkness into you. Blindness is the easiest harm to inflict but a whole limb may turn traitor if infected with shadow.’

‘You’re sure I can’t just kick her in the face before she starts?’