Grimm stopped the wagon short of the town centre, and tapped his right pocket. “Thribble; are you there?"
"Where else would I be, mortal?” the imp squeaked, pushing his head into view. “This does seem a pleasant spot to stay-are you planning to rest here?"
"I don't know yet, Thribble. Just recently, I've had my mind baffled and enslaved by pheromones and my eyes bedazzled by grandeur and opulence. I refuse to be fooled like that again. If we do decide to stay here, it's for one night and no more; is that clear? If any of us, including me, starts to act at all oddly, I want you to tell me.
"I like the look of this place as much as you do, but that's just what worries me. I don't know if this is some honey trap or just what it appears to be, but I'll let nothing stand in the way of our Quest this time. If Brianston really is what it appears to be, we may stop off here on the way back from Rendale, but, for now, we're just on our way through. If I even make the suggestion that we might stay here for more than one night, I want you to remind me of what I've said."
"That's understood, Questor Grimm. To be honest, I really want to see you complete this Quest; it will make a good tale to tell my brothers when I return home-whenever that may be."
The wagon's canvas cover rustled, and Grimm turned to see Tordun's head emerging. “May I ask why we have stopped, Questor Grimm? Is there a problem? Oh! Is that not a fine sight to behold?"
"What is it, Tordun?” Harvel's muffled voice emerged from the cart's interior. Grimm turned to the old soldier. “General, would you mind standing watch for a while? I want to brief our companions."
"Go ahead, Lord Baron,” Quelgrum replied. “It doesn't seem we have any problems at the moment."
"Budge over, Tordun,” Grimm said, crawling into the back of the wagon. “I don't want to wield the whip hand here, but it seems that I'll need to set a few ground rules."
Drex hardly noticed the sting of the whip on her back, but the nun's hoarse, harsh voice brought her to attention. She had no idea how she might have transgressed the Order's rules, but Melana's brusque tone brooked no argument. “Am I wasting my time with you, Supplicant? What is the matter with you?"
"I'm sorry, Sister Melana,” the girl mumbled, her tone respectful, sincere and penitent. “I acknowledge my most grievous fault, and I crave correction.” The rote phrase slid with ease from between her lips, comforting her with its familiarity.
"Must I remind you of even the most simple of incantations, you worthless bitch?” croaked the Sister, her red-tinged eyes blazing. “You're a useless, pathetic ingrate!"
"Yes, Sister Melana.” Drexelica lowered her gaze in the required attitude of Holy Modesty. Nonetheless, she had not failed to notice Melana's haggard state, and she registered the fact that the nun's sorry condition was somehow her fault.
Poor Sister Melana, She only wants to train me in the ways of the Order, and I betray her with sloppiness and inattention. I deserve punishment.
Drex had the impression that she might have possessed a different opinion at the start of the session, but beyond this bare fact all else was hazy and inchoate.
"Sister Melana: this humble Novice believes that the Supplicant's response was correct,” one of the ever-present attendants called, and Drex almost gasped at the junior nun's effrontery as Melana whirled to face the daring Novice.
"You dare to oppose me, Novice?” The Sister's narrowed eyes seemed to scorch the attendant, who shrank from the baleful gaze, seeming almost to melt in its intensity. “Do we all come to you for advice, now?"
"No, Sister Melana,” the nun whispered. “I merely thought…"
"You think way too much, Sister Falun! Who is in charge here: you or me?"
"You are, Sister Melana."
"You may both consider yourselves fortunate that I don't send you to the Prioress for correction. I am displeased with both your attitudes; you both seem to believe yourselves more familiar with Holy Ritual than I, and you will correct that at once!
"I will kindly make allowances for the fact that you are still young and callow. However, I require both of you to make an act of Contrition in the Lower Chapel-two hours of Level Two Punishment. Be grateful that I am in a merciful mood."
"Thank you, Sister Melana,” the Novices chorused. “I acknowledge my most grievous fault."
Melana glared at the two miscreants in turn. “Now!” she screamed. “My patience is not inexhaustible!"
The Novices looked at each other with nervous eyes, and Falun spoke in a faltering voice. “Sister… it was the Reverend Mother's explicit and definite order that we remain with the Supplicant at… at all times during her training."
"That was for periods of basic training only, dolt, and you know it!” Melana snapped. “The Supplicant requires a period of more intense instruction, and I have no need for a pair of fumbling, ignorant, ungrateful Novices criticising my every action! Need I remind you that I am a member of the Anointed Score? If I hear one more word of dissent from you, I will recommend your removal from the Priory, and you know what that could mean. Go and exorcise your guilt at once, before I decide that a more severe punishment is appropriate."
The junior nuns exchanged glances once more, but they seemed to have decided that further opposition was pointless.
"At once, Sister Melana,” Sister Falun cried, touching her forehead to the flagstones, with her fellow Novice following suit. “Thank you for your forbearance."
Rising to their feet, the two Novices made their way across the flagstones of the chamber to a side door Drex knew only too well; the Lower Chapel was a place of contrition and punishment.
"As for you, Supplicant,” the Sister said, raising her steel-tipped martinet, “you will soon regret the day you were born!"
As the door closed behind the departing Novices, Drex reached behind her to fumble with the laces on her gown. She knew only too well what lay in store for her, but she could no longer bring herself to care. She knew she was at fault, and that was all that mattered.
"Stop that!” Melana's voice was harsher than any whip, and Drex let go of the troublesome strings, waiting to hear the details of her well-deserved punishment.
"What do you want, Supplicant?” the nun demanded. This was a formal question, Drex realised, one requiring an answer. “What do you truly want?"
"I want only to serve the Order to the best of my abilities and with all my heart, Sister Melana. I must expiate my most grievous guilt, my base lusts, and my wayward spirit. I must-"
"Don't give me that nonsense, you stupid slut! What do you really want?"
"I want only to serve the Order, to the-"
"That's enough of that! We've finished with Responses. Don't you want to get out of here?"
Drexelica tried to make sense of Sister Melana's words, but she failed, tears of confusion beginning to trickle down her face. “What do you want me to say, Sister Melana? Tell me, and I'll comply! I acknowledge my most grievous fault, and I beg correction!"
The Sister muttered something Drex did not catch. “We're going for a little walk, Supplicant. We are getting out of here. We are going to escape."
Drex felt her jaw gaping, and she tried to encompass the enormity of Melana's words. She failed. “I don't understand, Sister,” she said, feeling the comforting embrace of routine deserting her. “Escape from what?"
"From here, you stupid girl! As your Superior, I order you to open that door and run out of here, as fast as you can."
"Where would I go, Sister Melana? My home is here now."
"I don't care where you go, girl. Just go! Don't worry: I'll be right behind you."
Drex put her hand on the black iron ring on the door leading to the main stairs. It felt cold and somehow odd; since she had become a Supplicant in the Priory, she had been escorted everywhere, and Melana's Novices had opened and closed all the doors.