"Oh, shut up, Supplicant! We've finished with Responses for today."
"I'm so sorry, Sister Melana. I… I need to sleep."
"Sleep? You've already been lounging there for three hours. What more do you want? You have work to do; after that, you may eat."
"What work, Sister?"
"Your robe is torn and stained with blood. You are to wash it and repair the damage brought on by your own wilful disobedience. Each botched darn will earn you one hour's Penitence for a fault in Obedience. You will note that I have kindly brought you a bucket of water, soap, and a needle and thread.
"Well?” The Sister raised her whip in a threatening manner.
"Thank you, Sister Melana!” Drex tried to lever herself from the thin mattress.
"I'm waiting, Supplicant,” the nun hissed, tapping the lash against her thigh.
Drexelica tumbled to the floor. Her fingers fumbled with the robe's fastenings; the digits felt as if they belonged to someone else. At last, the final knot fell apart, and she shucked the garment like a snake casting off its skin.
Somehow summoning the strength to rise to her raw, bloody knees, she dragged the garment towards a tub of water at Sister Melana's side.
As if seeing through a layer of grey gauze, Drex remembered the lessons of her brief apprenticeship to Mistress Gutal, a washerwoman and seamstress back in Griven. Skills learned during fourteen-hour working days under the old woman's harsh, unyielding tutelage came to the fore, giving her new strength.
Despite the pain of the blood returning to her arms and hands, she fell into the familiar routine, scrubbing each brown stain as if possessed. Once satisfied that the pristine white of the habit's coarse material had been restored, she took up the proffered darning needle.
She pricked her clumsy fingers several times while trying to thread the needle, but she took care not to spill further blood on the garment.
As she worked, she felt her thoughts clearing. She recognised that her earlier, overt attempts at resistance had been foolish, only adding to her punishment.
Drex knew she could only survive with an intact mind by trying to appear broken. She knew she must try to work on Melana with subtlety, by pretending at first to sympathise with her. The Sister was ambitious and proud, and she seemed to despise Prioress Lizaveta.
Don't give the cow any reason for suspicion, she told herself, as she darned the tears in the robe. Work on her. Play to her vanity.
At last, she snapped the thread on the last darn with her teeth, having used every artifice she had learned in her childhood under the hateful Gutal. Taking care not to raise her eyes, Drex glanced at Melana's hands as she passed the mended robe to the nun: they were soft and pink, the hands of someone unaccustomed to manual work.
Go on, bitch; find something wrong with that!
Melana turned the garment over and over, searching for the least sign of carelessness or inattention, but Drex knew she had worked well.
Compared to Gutal, Melana, you're just an amateur. She'd eat you for breakfast.
The nun grunted. “The Supplicant's work appears satisfactory."
To Drexelica, it sounded as if the words had been extracted under torture, and she struggled to keep her face demure and respectful.
"Thank you, Sister Melana. I will try to be more diligent in future, I promise."
"See that you do, Supplicant. Tomorrow, you'll have a full day of Observance, and I won't hesitate to punish the least transgression. Put on your robe.
"That's better. Now, you have earned a meal. Remember my indulgence and kindness on this occasion."
"I shall, Sister Melana.” Drex made sure to keep her voice penitent and subdued as she fumbled with the gown's laces. “Blessed be the Order."
"Oh, do stop that, slut! Your voice tires me, and you'll have ample opportunity to exercise your lungs later. Wait here; I'll be seeing you soon. You have an hour; make the most of it.
"Sleep is not permitted. Just you remember that."
Melana left the room, and one of the Novices brought Drex a bowl of thin, grey gruel and a small scrap of dark, gritty-looking bread. The meagre meal looked revolting, but the girl consumed it as if it were the choicest cuisine, wiping the bowl with the bread, ensuring that she absorbed every vital calorie.
I've got to keep my strength up. I'm not going to let these bastards beat me, and I know Grimm's on his way here. All I've got to do is to go along with this charade, and come across like a good, confused little girl. I've just got to hold out as best I can. They may have my body, but I'll be damned if I let them have my mind.
"So, Sister Melana; how goes our new Supplicant?” Lizaveta mumbled, tearing flesh from a chicken-leg with her teeth. She tossed the bone over her shoulder and selected a ripe fig from the heaped table at her side.
Melana, lounging on a comfortable divan in the Prioress’ chamber, took a deep draught of wine before she answered.
"She's strong, Reverend Mother; I'll give the little slut that. Even so, she was almost off with the birds by the end of Devotions, as I'd hoped. I let her rest for a little while, and then ordered her to repair her robe; it was in quite a mess, as you might guess. I told her she had failed in Obedience."
"A nice touch, Sister,” Lizaveta said. “Still, I trust you've taken care that she's not marked?"
"There's nothing that'll show, Reverend Mother, I promise. I'll have the Novices go a little easier on her tomorrow, and then hit her hard the day after.
"By the time I left her today, she looked dazed, but I'm pretty sure she was more aware than she let on. She thinks she's playing with us."
Lizaveta laughed, a harsh, unpleasant sound that grated on Melana's ears, but the junior nun joined in, nonetheless.
"How amusing!” the Prioress cackled. “Perhaps she thinks she's over the worst? We haven't even started yet! She'll learn soon enough that it's useless to try to oppose the Score… or me."
Melana wondered if Lizaveta had gazed at her with a little more intensity than usual, but she put it down to being tired; it had been a long day so far, and it was not over yet.
"Get her started on emotions this afternoon, Sister. Let her access her power; flex her muscles, as it were. Keep her busy, but let her think she's still got the upper hand. A couple of hours’ Devotion tomorrow should be enough to start with. Find some reason for some more Penitence the day after; don't give her time to think. Allow her four hours of sleep tonight, no more."
Melana almost gaped. She needed to rest, and Lizaveta's pronouncement had condemned her to even less sleep; she would need to be up before the Supplicant. “Reverend Mother, may I detail the Novices to start off without me tomorrow? I'm exhausted."
"Oh, I don't think I should entrust a matter of such importance to a pair of callow Novices, Sister! No, I'm afraid you'll have to oversee the girl's training yourself. It'll be a trial for you, I know, but I trust you to recognise your duty."
The slender nun groaned inwardly, but she knew better than to demur with her Superior.
"As you command, Reverend Mother,” she said, trying to maintain a cheerful, obedient tone.
You shrivelled old goat! Melana thought. You're never up before dawn, are you? It's always people like me who have to do your dirty work for you.
"Thank you so much, Sister Melana.” Lizaveta favoured the nun with what she doubtless thought was a sweet, seraphic smile. Instead, it looked more like the rapacious grin of a predator. “I knew I could rely on you."
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Chapter 6: Investigation
Lieutenant-Colonel Shandimar, Shakkar and Sergeant Erik sat at the head of a long table in the Guardhouse. The room was bare, forbidding and cold.
The fourteenth and last man marched into the room, to Erik's shouted commands: