Raven's Ruin (The Keeper Origins Book 2) Page 2

  “I’m sorry she disturbed you, Holy Mother.” Hetty bustled around the couch, straightening pillows and adjusting papers and medicine bottles on a nearby small table.

  Unlike Narine, Hetty was the perfect example of a person whose presence carried no weight. The abbess served one of the three most powerful women in the city, and yet for all her bossing and bustle, she could be replaced with any of a hundred cross, old women, and no one would ever notice.

  “I’ll take her to the kitchens, where they can find something for her to do,” Hetty continued.

  Sable stepped forward. “No, Prioress Vivaine sent me to care for the Holy Mother.”

  “The High Prioress does not run this priory,” Hetty said with a stern voice.

  “Thank you, Hetty.” Narine folded her hands on her lap. “I wish to speak to Issable alone for a few moments. Would you be so kind as to find us a bit of bread?”

  Hetty frowned but nodded. “Yes, Holy Mother.”

  Left alone with the prioress, Sable smoothed the front of her torn and dirty white dress. There was a good chance her face paint was smudged, and from the wisps of hair hanging in her eyes, the braids Thulan had plaited for the play hadn’t weathered the night well either. Sable tucked a loose lock behind her ear. “Good morning, Holy Mother. I’m sorry to come to you this…disheveled.”

  Narine didn’t glance at her clothes or her hair but studied Sable’s face. “Why are you here, Issable?”

  Sable paused before stating the obvious. “Vivaine said you were ill and needed a caregiver.”

  “Please call her Prioress Vivaine. I did not ask what others want you to do. Why did you decide to walk into my room?”

  After the way Vivaine had controlled every aspect of the morning, stripping every decision from Sable’s hands, she let out a laugh at the question. “This is where that armed Sanctus guard brought me. I didn’t have a choice.”

  “You always have a choice,” Narine said, her voice still calm. “You had a choice this morning, when you turned your back on your friend while he stood on the gallows. You had a choice when you bent your knee before Prioress Vivaine and offered her your service. You had a choice last night when you stood on that stage and denounced the ambassador in front of everyone.” Narine studied Sable curiously. “Which leads to an interesting question. Last night I saw a young woman stand up against people far more powerful than her. But this morning I saw her fold before everything she believed in.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sable’s words came out harsher than she’d intended.

  Narine didn’t blink. “Prioress Vivaine has some hold over you. Even the young man on the gallows knew that. I assume your pledge of loyalty paid for his freedom?”

  Sable took a breath, trying to get control of the swirl of anger rising in her. “I couldn’t let him die.”

  “Of course not. The real question is, why did the High Prioress go through the effort? What use are you to her?” Before Sable could answer, Narine raised a finger. “Consider your answer carefully. It is best to speak the truth or say nothing at all. I have not decided what I’m going to do with you yet, but if you are not honest with me, I will let Hetty send you to the kitchens, and you and I will likely not speak again.”

  Sable shifted under the woman’s gaze. A ripple of light from the phoenix caught Sable’s eye. With every breath, the bird’s chest glowed slightly, like someone blowing on a bed of coals.

  Sable hesitated. She couldn’t tell Narine the truth.

  The thought stopped her.

  Why not? Because Vivaine wouldn’t want her to?

  Everything Vivaine did relied on secrets and manipulations. All the things that had gone wrong in the past few days were because of secrets and lies.

  The idea of simply telling the truth felt reckless, but freeing.

  The phoenix shifted on its perch, and a trickle of sparks fluttered off the bird, glowing like tiny falling stars.

  If Narine knew about Sable’s skill, there’d be two prioresses wanting to take advantage of her abilities, but was that much worse than one? And it would convince Narine to keep her close.

  The fact that telling Narine would probably annoy Vivaine was just an added bonus.

  Sable turned back to the Phoenix Prioress, who was watching her patiently. “I can feel the truth.”

  The prioress considered the words. “What you mean by that?”

  “When people say something that they deeply believe to be true, I can feel it.”

  “And if they lie?”

  “I can feel that too.”

  Narine paused, and Sable waited for the inevitable request for proof.

  Instead, the woman merely said, “A dangerous gift.”

  Sable let out a short laugh. “Dangerous?”

  “It is one of Amah’s greatest gifts to be able to believe people.”

  There wasn’t the slightest hint of coldness in anything the prioress had said so far, and this last statement had been the warmest of them all. Sable frowned at her. “You don’t want to know if someone is lying?”

  “You are missing the point of talking to people. Trusting them is the important part.”

  “You can’t be that naïve.” The words were out before Sable could stop them.

  Narine raised an eyebrow. “It is not naivety to believe that people can be the best form of themselves. It is hope.”

  “You can’t trust the Kalesh, certainly.”

  “Trust is given to individuals, not empires.”

  Sable frowned at the prioress. “Does that mean you would have believed me no matter what I said about why Vivaine wanted me?”

  “Prioress Vivaine. And no. Only a fool believes a blatant lie. There are very few things you could have told me that the High Prioress would value enough to let that young man go unpunished, but your skill qualifies.”

  Narine’s gaze turned to the fire as the flames chased each other across the wood. “Why did the High Prioress send you to watch me?” The words were said quietly, almost to herself.

  “I’m not watching you. I’m to be your caregiver so I have a reason to attend meetings with the Kalesh.”

  For the first time, the look Narine cast at her showed a hint of exasperation. “If you’re going to tangle with the High Prioress, child, you’ll need to be sharper than that.”

  Narine was right. There were plenty of ways that Vivaine could have arranged for Sable to be in the meetings that were simpler and more assured than hoping Narine would agree to this idea. “Then why does she want me here?”

  Narine shrugged. “Were you involved in the assassination?”

  “No!” Sable took a step closer to the prioress. “All I wanted was to warn people about the Kalesh.”

  The prioress considered her words, then nodded. “I intend to go to the meeting with the Kalesh today, if for no other reason than to convey my sympathy. You may accompany me and serve the High Prioress if that is your wish.” Sable opened her mouth to point out that none of this was her wish, but the prioress raised her hand. “On one condition.”

  “Anything,” Sable said quickly.

  Narine fixed her with a level look. “You never share with me what your gift tells you about people. I have no desire to be so restricted.”

  “It’s not restricting,” Sable objected. “It’s enlightening.”

  Narine’s look remained firm. “Do you agree to my terms?”

  Sable paused, then nodded.

  “Good. Then sit with me while we wait for Hetty to bring us that bread and tell me about yourself. From your speech last night, it seems you’ve had an interesting life.”

  Sable took a seat, and her eyes watched the fire dance as the prioress questioned her about the acting troupe and their travels, Sable’s life in Dockside, and her parents. Sable braced herself for questions about her skills or her agreement with Vivaine, but Narine was only interested in Sable’s relationships with the people in her life.

  Hetty returned with some warm bread and honey, and Sable told the elderly prioress about Leonis and Thulan’s endless bickering, how protective Jae and Serene were of each other, and the way Ryah had filled the role of an abbess to the people on the Eastern Reaches.

  “And the young man from the gallows?” Narine asked. “Who is he?”

  “Andreese is one of the only survivors of Ebenmoor,” Sable said. Purnicious had survived as well, but Narine didn’t need to know the kobold existed. “The Kalesh had burned the town to the ground.”

  Narine let out a sorrowful breath but said nothing.

  The bread filled Sable’s stomach with a satisfying warmth, and the cushions of the couch were so soft that she stifled a yawn.

  “When was the last time you slept?” Narine asked.

  Sable closed her eyes, and the room spun slowly. “It’s been a while.”

  “Hetty,” Narine called. “Take Issable to one of the open rooms down the hall. And find her something clean to wear.” She turned back to Sable. “We won’t meet with the Kalesh until late afternoon. You’ll be of no use to Prioress Vivaine if you’re falling asleep on your feet.”

  Sable shifted at the words. “I don’t want to be of use to her.”

  Narine picked up a book and opened it. “Then you should have made different choices.”

  Chapter Two

  The scent of soup and warm bread woke Sable what felt like moments after she’d fallen asleep. The light coming in the window of the small room she’d been given had moved far enough across the floor, though, that she must have been asleep for hours.

  “You can eat once you’re clean,” Sister Hetty said brusquely, setting a tray down on the small table. “I’ve found you something more decent to wear than that rag you’ve got on.” She held up two very plai
n, white servant’s robes. They had long, straight sleeves and no waistline at all. “I’ll show you to the baths, but there’ll be no dawdling. If you’re here to help the prioress, then you’ll need to learn to be useful.”

  Sable’s head was still fuzzy with sleep as she followed the woman to the baths. The room was long, with a row of pools sunk into the ground. The nearest were cold, but farther into the room, the water steamed.

  Hetty pointed to the pools. “In and wash quickly. I don’t have all day.”

  A handful of abbesses bathed in the different pools, and Sable went to the third one, which was unoccupied. She pulled the last of the braids from last night’s show out of her hair and stepped into the water. It was warm, but not hot, and she took the soap Hetty offered and cleaned herself quickly.

  “Don’t forget your face,” Hetty said. “Your powder is all smeared and smudged.”

  Sable scowled at the woman. “I’ve had a rough night.”

  Hetty crossed her arms. “You should be swinging from a gallows right now for playing a part in a murder. Instead you’re enjoying a bath in the Phoenix Priory. You have nothing at all to complain about.”

  “Enjoying is an overstatement,” Sable muttered, but she finished rinsing out her hair and took the towel Hetty offered.

  When they returned to Narine’s room, a group of abbesses filled the chairs around the fireplace, talking in muted tones with the prioress.

  “Can you read?” Hetty asked quietly, motioning Sable toward the desk. At Sable’s nod, the woman sniffed. “That’s something. Sit.”

  The chair was high backed with golden, velvety cushions. The desk itself was wide and deep, its edges stacked high with letters. In the center, a map was fixed into the surface.

  “You will sort through Narine’s correspondence.” Hetty kept her voice low. She handed Sable a stack of letters. “Most will be requests from abbeys for supplies. Note the abbey’s name and the requested supplies on this list then place the letter here. Well-wishes for the Prioress’s health are responded to with this exact message.” She held up a small slip of paper with neatly penned words conveying the Prioress’s thanks. “You will not embellish the message in any way, nor make any claims on the prioress’s behalf. Nor will you seal any letters. I will review your work before it is sent.” She folded her arms. “If you find mail with any other purpose, set it aside for the prioress to read. Questions?”

  Sable shook her head, and Hetty moved to the fireplace, preparing cups of tea for the abbesses.

  Moving some papers out of the way, Sable studied the map, running a finger over the peninsula of Immusmala. The city seemed so small compared to the vast world. At the very tip of the city, a star marked the location of the priories. Her eyes traveled north to Folhaven, then east onto the Reaches, following the path the troupe had taken just weeks ago.

  Her gaze caught on a tiny picture of a town labeled “Ebenmoor.” She blinked away memories of smoke and ashes. She scanned the rest of the Eastern Reaches, wondering how many other towns had suffered the same fate.

  Down near the very southeastern edge of the map, a tiny dot was marked “Pelrock.”

  Sable’s fingers clenched on the papers in her hand, crumpling their corners as memories of her home flared to life. The smoke and ashes and swirling, screeching ravens.

  “There’s a rebellion brewing in the north,” one of the abbesses said, dragging Sable’s attention back to the room. “Sister Tanny said the people are scared. The lords aren’t doing anything to protect them from the Kalesh, and towns are starting to take matters into their own hands.”

  “This will only lead to more violence,” another tutted.

  “Don’t be troubled, Sisters,” an older woman said. “These rebels are small, isolated farmers. Without support from people who know what’s happening on a wider scale, they’ll be ineffective and soon go back home.”

  “Instead of rumors,” Narine said, “let’s discuss the new garden plots on the Tremmen Hills. Have we found enough seeds?”

  The abbesses glanced at each other but followed the prioress’s lead.

  Hetty frowned at Sable from across the room, and she returned her attention to the desk. A rebellion? If it was merely isolated farmers, they would be ineffective against the Kalesh. But why would Sister Tanny, whoever she was, have heard of the rebellion if it wasn’t doing something worth noticing?

  Sable pulled a piece of blank paper from the stack, an idea forming. Maybe being a small, silent player in the world of the priories wouldn’t be useless. If a rebellion really was brewing, and it could be informed by someone who knew what was happening in the priories…

  She looked at the map. She only knew one person who might be able to find these rebels and see if they were worth helping.

  At the thought of Atticus, she tightened her hand on the quill. How could the old man have betrayed her secret to Vivaine? Sable had trusted him with the truth of what she could do. They’d all trusted him.

  She stared at the blank paper, trying to think of another option, but there was no denying he’d be the one who could make contacts, and getting a letter out of the priory to him would be simple with a little help from Purnicious.

  Hetty puttered near the shelves on the far wall, sorting through bowls of tea leaves and jars of herbs. The holy women’s voices droned on, quiet and dull. Sable pulled a blank piece of paper out of the stack. She dipped the quill in the ink and hesitated.

  Dear Leonis and Thulan,

  There are rumors of a rebellion beginning in the north. They are believed to be small and unsupported, but if you could find the rebels, and if they really are resisting the spread of the Kalesh, maybe we can help them.

  I’m sentenced to attend every important meeting that takes place here. I can send you what I learn.

  I know the old man has connections everywhere. If anyone can find them, it’s him.

  But one of you write me back. I have no desire to hear from the traitor.

  I miss you two already.

  Tell me of your travels and

  She paused. The troupe had been driven from Immusmala this morning, at the same time Reese had been banished. Undoubtedly they were traveling together. She lifted her pen to write his name, but she couldn’t shake the memory of how furiously he’d glared as she knelt before Vivaine.

  anyone else you pick up along the way. Maybe I can live vicariously through you and pretend I’m not trapped inside these holy walls.

  -S

  Hetty was still busy, so Sable folded the paper small enough to tuck inside her sleeve. She picked up a piece of mail and turned her attention to the list of supplies requested by a small abbey far to the north.

  She worked for an hour before Hetty came over, peering at her progress and motioning Sable out of the chair. The abbesses had all filed out of the room, and Narine sat quietly on her couch.

  “Go help the prioress with her shoes.” Hetty sat and started flipping through Sable’s work.

  A pair of white boots sat near the fire. Sable picked them up and brought them over to the prioress.

  Narine gave her a small smile. “Could you put those on for me? Bending over that far is challenging these days.”

  Sable knelt and picked up Narine’s foot. It was thin, bony, and alarmingly light. “What are you ill with, Holy Mother?” she asked.

  “I’ve had too many years in my life,” Narine answered with a tired sigh. The phoenix stretched its wings and flew over to the end of the couch, leaving a trail of sparks. It fixed its gaze on Narine, and she ran a finger down the feathers on its neck, leaving a line of fiery brightness. “Even Innov here is getting older, aren’t you, dear?”

  Sable laced the white boots up to Narine’s ankle. “How can you tell?”

  “Her feathers are dimmer.” The prioress gave the bird a fond smile. “When she and I first met, she was as bright as the sun. But time dims us all, I suppose.”

  The phoenix sat, emanating light like a bed of hot coals. With every shift, embers fell harmlessly onto the couch and disappeared.