Alyce stepped from behind the screen to look at Iris Rose's back, ramrod straight in its pale blue habit, topped by the white wimple and novice veil. For her own part, Alyce's own image could not have been more innocent, with her golden hair tumbled onto the shoulders of her white under-gown. Still behind the screen, Marie had frozen, listening.
«Do you mean that?» Alyce asked quietly.
Iris Rose turned slowly to face her, brown eyes looking fearlessly into Alyce's blue ones.
«I do», she said. «In the years I have been here, I have come to know and love Sister Iris Jessilde. I cannot believe that it is evil to be — what she is. Or what you are».
Alyce simply stared at her for a few seconds in shock, uncertain whether to take this bald statement as a declaration of trust or a test. But by Truth-Reading Iris Rose, Alyce could see that she believed what she had just said. As she started to reach for one of the blue over-robes, Iris Rose bustled forward and scooped it up instead, briskly rearranging its folds so that she could ease it over Alyce's head.
«You're very brave», Alyce murmured, from within the folds of pale blue wool.
«Bravery isn't nearly as important as vigilance», the other girl replied in a low voice, as Alyce's head popped free. «You should know that there's a new chaplain recently come here who does not like… well, women with minds of their own». She gave Alyce a meaningful look as folds of pale blue wool fell to ankle-length around her, including Marie in her comments as the younger girl stepped into view once more. «Sister Iris Jessilde would have warned you, but I got to you first. Just be very careful».
Alyce inclined her head slightly as she settled the skirts of the blue robe. «Thank you, I'll keep that in mind. But surely you have nothing to fear from him.
Iris Rose glanced sidelong at the door as she handed one of the multi-colored cinctures to Alyce, then to Marie. «Lady Alyce, I may not be — what you are», she said in a low voice, «but I do have a mind of my own — and perhaps tend to speak it more often than I should. He believes that women should be silent. He assigns very harsh penances when we're not».
«I see», Alyce replied. «And does this paragon have a name?»
«Father Septimus. He's young and handsome, and can be very charming, but don't let that fool you. Mother Judiana knows him for what he is. We're all hoping and praying that he won't be around very long».
Astonished, Marie glanced between Iris Rose and her sister. «But — if he's that unpleasant, how did he get here in the first place?»
Iris Rose rolled her eyes. «His brother is a bishop down in Carthane: Oliver de Nore. Mind you, he's only an itinerant one, but he still has a great deal of influence. Any bishop does».
A clatter at the door latch announced the bustling arrival of a much older woman in the habit and blue veil of a vowed sister.
«Are we ready yet?» she asked, mouth primping in an expression of disappointment as she noted the two girls' somewhat disheveled locks. «Good heavens, you can't go to Mother looking like that! Iris Rose, you haven't done their hair yet. Let me lend a hand. I'm Iris Mary», she added, as she came to lift a handful of Alyce's curls. «Dear me, this mane badly needs closer acquaintance with a comb — but you'll wear it in a plait while you're here among us», she said, as she began dividing it into sections to do just that. «Now, which one are you, Alyce or Marie?»
«She's Alyce», said Iris Rose, smiling as she began a similar service of Marie's ruddier locks. «And this is Marie. And you mustn't worry, girls. Sister Iris Mary isn't nearly as ferocious as she pretends to be».
«Goodness, no!» Iris Mary retorted with a good-natured wink. «I am far more ferocious!»
The relaxed banter between the two appeared to indicate that perhaps it was permissible to dispense with overmuch stiffness or formality, though Alyce sensed, without being told, that the limits had yet to be learned, especially for those of her race, and especially in light of the warning Iris Rose had just given her.
Nonetheless, by the time both stood in the full attire of their new situation, each with hair now tamed to a single plait down their backs, the future appeared far less bleak than they had come to fear. Sister Iris Rose was humming contentedly as she made a last inspection of each girl's attire, adjusting a cincture here, a fold of skirt there, and Iris Mary was smiling as she brought out two wreaths of dried flowers.
«By rights, these should be made of fresh flowers», she said, handing one to Iris Rose, «but the truth is, we rarely know enough in advance to prepare them — so dried ones have to suffice. Besides, it's winter, so the choices are few. But you'll only wear them for your reception by Reverend Mother, until you're veiled».
«I hope that's only a figure of speech», Marie said. «We don't intend to become nuns, you know».
Iris Mary made a clucking sound, looking faintly amused as she put her wreath on Marie's head. «Certainly not, child. I can imagine the sorts of tales you've heard about life in some convents, but I can assure you that no one is here who does not wish to be here».
«Then, what's this about veils?»
«Actually, they're more like kerchiefs, tied underneath your plait», Iris Rose assured them. «Not terribly attractive, but they're very practical».
«You will receive an actual veil», Iris Mary added, turning to fuss with Alyce's wreath, «but it's simply a plain white one such as any well-bred girl might wear, held in place by a rainbow-plaited fillet rather like your cinctures — and you'll only wear that on Sundays and other formal occasions. It's quite pretty. But the reason for having you wear a version of our habit is so that you'll blend in better with the vowed community, which is less disruptive to us. I promise you that there is no agenda more sinister than that».
«You see, Mares?» Alyce murmured aside to her sister. «I told you it would be all right».
«I suppose», Marie replied, though she still looked not altogether convinced.
To the relief of both of them, their formal presentation to the mother superior was considerably less daunting than they had feared. Accompanied by Sisters Iris Rose and Iris Mary, they made their way out along the cloister walk and through a side door into the chapel — and this, too, was not the dark, oppressive place they had feared.
A sweetly sung hymn of welcome met them even before they passed through the rainbow-arched doorway — the combined voices both of sisters and of students; and though the day had been bleak and wintry for the ride to Arc-en-Ciel, the Chapel of the Rainbow was a place of lightness and peace, purest white where stained glass did not pierce the outer walls, and ablaze with color at east and west, both from glorious rose windows and from scores of candles set behind shades of vari-colored glass around the altar.
Enfolded in light and sound and a hint of floral incense, they followed the two sisters down a stretch of carpet woven to give the impression of walking along a rainbow, passing between the center-facing choir stalls of the students and community. Jessamy came out to meet them as they advanced, conducting them thence to the sanctuary steps, where the three of them paused to reverence the altar beyond.
Before that altar, Mother Iris Judiana rose from a simple stool to receive them, accepting Jessamy's curtsy with a nod and a smile, then opening her arms to embrace her. Alyce and Marie had also dipped in respect as Jessamy made her reverence, and now curtsied more deeply as Jessamy drew back from the mother superior and turned to present them.
«Mother Iris Judiana, I have the honor to present my heart-daughters, the demoiselles Alyce and Marie, children of my dear friend Stevana de Corwyn, the late heiress of Corwyn. Their dear brother will be Duke of Corwyn when he comes of age, and likewise Earl of Lendour upon the death of their father, Keryell of Lendour, who has asked that they be given into your care to learn the gentle arts suitable to their rank».