Dara nodded, but she still looked unhappy. “Go on,” Mark said, giving her a poke. “I don’t want to stand here all day. It’s getting cold.”
“You stop that!” Dara said furiously. “You never think of anybody but yourself! You—”
“Dara! Mark! Both of you, stop it right now,” Kayl said firmly.
“But I didn’t do anything!” Mark said in an injured tone.
“I don’t care,” Kayl said. “I don’t want to hear a word out of either of you until we’re inside and I’m done talking to the Sisters. Understand?”
“But—”
“Not a word!” Kayl said. “Now come on.” She took their hands in hers and went into the Star Hall.
Two Sisters in medium-gray robes were waiting in the outer courtyard; Corrana had summoned them while Kayl was dealing with Mark and Dara outside. They led Kayl and her children through the front atrium and around the outside of the great hall. Kayl felt as though she were seeing double. She knew the way as well as she knew her kitchen at the inn in Copeham, yet it was somehow strange as well. The hall was narrower than she remembered, and she had forgotten the odd rose tiles that ringed the pool in the atrium. The lighting was too dim, and there were too many doors. Then, suddenly, there was a niche in the wall that fit her memory perfectly, and even that felt strange. Kayl suppressed a shiver of uneasiness and hurried after the Sisters.
The Sisters led them to a small chamber ringed with wooden benches. One wall was covered with a mosaic depicting a stylized eight-pointed star in shades of blue; the other walls were the same polished white marble as the rest of the building. On the opposite side of the chamber were two wooden doors.
“Baths have been prepared for you in the next rooms,” one of the Sisters said, indicating doors in the opposite wall of the chamber. “We will bring clean clothing for you while you refresh yourselves.”
Dara shot Kayl a reproachful look, but was wise enough not to say anything. Kayl thanked the two Sisters and saw them out, then sent Mark and Dara to bathe. As they left the room, she unwrapped her cloak and sank down onto one of the benches. Absently, she undid the cords holding her bundle, and sighed in relief as the weight left her shoulders. She set it on the bench beside her and stared at it.
Coming back wasn’t supposed to feel like this, she thought, but she didn’t know what she had expected it to feel like. She didn’t even know, really, why she had come. She had insisted, when Corrana pressed her, that she only wanted to return the sword of the Sisterhood to the Elder Mothers. But could she give it up? It had been a part of her for so long; even, she now admitted, when she had hidden it beneath the floor of the inn and denied its presence. And if she hadn’t given up the sword on that last, horrible day when she thought she hated the Sisterhood and everyone in it, how could she imagine that she would return it now?
Kayl sighed and leaned back, remembering.
Starlight glimmered on the mirror-smooth surface of the pool in the center of the Court of Stars. Kayl stood alone at one corner of the pool, staring straight ahead of her, trying not to think of the erstwhile companions of her Star Cluster. On the other side of the courtyard, the most senior of the Elder Mothers of the Sisterhood were gathered, their silver robes a dim reflection of the shimmering starlight.
“And is that all of your story?” a voice said from the midst of the silver mass.
“The return trip was uneventful, Your Serenity,” Kayl said. Her voice rasped in a throat worn raw with weeping.
“Then we thank you for your service.” The voice paused. “You have our sympathy as well, for your fallen companions.”
There was a murmur of agreement from the collected Mothers, and for a moment Kayl was comforted. Then another voice said, “It is hard to speak of this now, and harder for you to hear, yet it must be done. Your choices now are two: find among the unfledged and uncommitted students of our order new companion Sisters to form a new Star Cluster, or take your place among the Sisters who serve the Star Halls and go afield no more.”
“I—” Kayl stopped, not knowing what she was expected to say. She didn’t like either of the choices, but she couldn’t say that. Not to the Elder Mothers. She rubbed at her eyes, wishing she weren’t so tired. Maybe when she was rested this would all make more sense.
“You need not make this decision now,” one of the Elder Mothers said kindly. “Wait awhile, until the Varnans have been punished and the first of your grief has passed.”
Kayl stiffened, her weariness forgotten. “What do you mean about punishing the Varnans?”
“Surely it is obvious that the Varnans are to blame for this catastrophe.” The voice was kind, almost soothing. It raised prickles along the back of Kayl’s neck.
“That’s not what I said at all!” Kayl objected. “They didn’t do any better than we did—Beshara al Allard died and Glyndon… Those visions of his have crippled him as much as losing an arm would have! You can’t blame them!”
“That is not your decision to make.” Kayl could hear the steel underlying the gentle tone.
“But I am the one who took the Star into the Tower, Your Serenity,” Kayl insisted. “And no one knew about that thing inside. No one!”
“So you have said, and we have heard you.” The voice was dry and noncommittal.
“You’re implying that the Varnans deliberately led us into a trap!”
“It is a possibility that must be considered.”
“But it isn’t true! Your Serenities,” Kayl added belatedly.
“We must be the judges of that. Your duties in this matter are finished,” the Elder Mother said firmly. “And you are tired. Leave us to deal with the Varnans.”
The voice seemed to echo in Kayl’s mind, knocking loose bits of knowledge she had overlooked or ignored. The bits fell together into a horrifying pattern. Kayl shook her head, trying not to believe the words she heard herself saying. “You planned this. Right from the beginning, you planned to blame the Varnans if anything went wrong!”
“And if we did?” The Elder Mother’s voice was cold. “What is your concern for Varnans?”
“Glyndon and Kevran are my friends,” Kayl said, feeling anger rising inside her. “And even if they weren’t, what you’re saying about them isn’t true. I won’t be a party to it!”
“You question our judgment?”
“Yes!” Kayl shouted. “You can’t do this!”
“We can. It is in the best interest of the Sisterhood.”
“Then the Sisterhood is a lie. You’re no better than the Circle of Silence, or the Varnans themselves!”
There was a stunned silence. Then, “Leave us,” said a cold voice. “You are overwrought.”
“I know what I’m saying,” Kayl said, her anger turning suddenly cold. “I’ve worked for you, bled for you, and nearly been killed doing your precious business, but I won’t lie for you. If this is what the Sisterhood really is, I’m leaving.”
She waited, but no one spoke. Briefly, she was tempted to make some grand gesture, to break her sword over her knee; then she turned on her heel and left. Her boots rang faintly on the tiled courtyard. As she reached the door, she heard a faint, frozen whisper: “Go, then.” Her steps did not falter, and she left the court without looking back.
Kayl sniffed, and wiped away a tear with the back of her hand. She had left the Star Hall next morning, after spending half the night writing everyone she knew, inside or outside the Sisterhood, telling them the truth. And, for whatever reason, the Sisterhood had not laid the blame for the disastrous ending of the trip on the shoulders of the Varnans. Kayl had remained in Kith Alunel long enough to make sure of that, then left the city with Glyndon and Kevran. She had been hurt, confused, and bitter; she had given up the work she loved and the only family she could remember. But she had not given up the sword of the Sisterhood. How could she pretend that she would do so now?
With a sigh, Kayl leaned back against the cool marble wall, staring at the mosaic opposite her. It made no impr
ession on her; her eyes saw instead the faces of her friends. Barthelmy, her black witchlocks flying, grinning impishly. Evla, her slanted green eyes cool and serene and her silver-white hair braided close to her head. Varevice, a lock of brown hair escaping her cap, her brows furrowed in concentration. Mother Dalessi, her gray hair in a loose braid over one shoulder, her face creased with smile lines. Kevran, his dark hair falling into his gray eyes, his smile warm and friendly. Beshara al Allard, every blond hair perfectly in place, one eyebrow raised in cold appraisal. Odevan, gray-skinned and hairless, unmistakably a demon.
Perhaps this was the real reason she had come back to Kith Alunel and the Sisterhood, Kayl thought. To lay to rest the ghosts in her memories.
Kayl heard a thump behind one of the doors to the bathing rooms. She turned her back on it, hastily wiping her cheeks. A moment later, Mark came bursting into the outer chamber, wrapped in one of the drying cloths “Because they said they were going to bring us clean clothes, didn’t they,” and Kayl went in to take her own bath.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
KAYL BATHED QUICKLY, REVELING in the feel of hot water and soap but unwilling to linger too long. When she emerged, she found Mark and Dara dressed and waiting for her. The Sisters had brought them soft, shapeless charcoal gray robes that fell to just above their knees and belted at the waist. Mark looked uncomfortable and out of place; somehow he had managed to belt the robe so that the left side hung significantly lower than the right. Dara, on the other hand, looked entirely at home. Kayl frowned slightly, wondering why that thought made her uneasy. Then she saw the pile of pale gray cloth beside her bundle.
“That’s what they left for me?” she said, startled.
“Well, it’s too big for either of us so it must be yours,” Dara said. “Why? Is something wrong?”
“No, I was just surprised,” Kayl said as she crossed the room and picked up the pile. “Only the Elder Mothers wear silver inside the Star Halls; everyone else wears gray. The shade of the robe indicates rank. The nearer the color is to silver, the most important the person wearing it is. I didn’t expect them to give me one of the lighter shades, that’s all.”
“How come we got dark ones then?” Mark asked, sounding injured.
“Dark gray is for visitors and students,” Kayl told him. “I was a member of the Sisterhood, but you and Dara aren’t.”
“What about—”
“Mark, I would appreciate it if you would save the rest of your questions until after I’ve changed into this,” Kayl said gently. “It won’t take long.”
Mark flushed and nodded. Kayl slipped back into the steamy warmth of the bathing room, carrying the pale gray robe. She stripped hastily, then, with a curious mixture of eagerness and reluctance, she lifted the robe and slid it over her head.
The soft wool grazed the floor when the garment hung loose; belted, the robe was ankle-length. Kayl noted with misgiving that the color was even lighter than she had first thought. She had never gotten past the middle grays while she was at the Star Hall. Why were they giving her a status she had not earned?
Kayl picked up her old clothes and went back out to Mark and Dara. She unstrapped her sword from the back of her bundle and hung it at her waist. The star in the hilt winked up at her as she turned back to her children. “Now, what was it you were going to ask, Mark?”
“What about Father? Would he have had to wear this color?”
Kayl’s lips tightened. “Your father was a Varnan,” she said as calmly as she could manage. “I doubt that the Sisterhood would have let him in at all. Varnans are not welcome in the Star Halls.”
Mark started to say something, then stopped, frowning. Dara looked at Kayl. “Is that why you sent Glyndon away before we got here? I saw you talking in the shop.”
“It’s part of the reason,” Kayl said.
“Mother,” Mark said, and stopped.
“I’m listening; what is it?”
Mark hesitated, then said carefully, “Do I have to wear this?”
“I’d prefer you did, for a number of reasons, but I won’t make you if you dislike it that much,” Kayl replied.
“It’s not that. I just don’t think I ought to take anything from these people if they felt like that about Father. It doesn’t seem right.”
“We’ll be giving the robes back at the end of the visit, but I understand what you mean,” Kayl said, and smiled at his serious expression. Mark had done a lot of growing up on the trip to Kith Alunel. “Go ahead and change, if you feel that way about it.”
Mark nodded solemnly and picked up his bundle. Dara looked stricken. “Does that mean I have to change, too?” she asked, fingering the soft folds of her robe wistfully.
“I’m not making Mark wear the robe, and I won’t make you wear something else if you don’t want to,” Kayl said. “It’s your decision.”
“You’re not going to change,” Dara said accusingly.
“The Sisterhood already knows exactly how I feel about their attitude toward Varnans.”
“Oh.” Dara plopped onto the bench, frowning.
Mark came back a few moments later, dressed once more in his traveling clothes. As he handed Kayl the folded gray robe, there was a knock at the outer door of the chamber. “Enter,” Kayl called.
The door swung open to reveal Corrana. Her robe was the same shade as Kayl’s, and the star of the Sisterhood shimmered on her left shoulder. She looked vaguely disgruntled, as if she did not approve of the task she was set to do. Her eyes swept the little chamber, and she frowned. “I understood there were to be clean robes for all three of you,” she said.
“My son chooses not to be indebted to a group which considers his father’s people their enemies,” Kayl said.
Corrana’s eyes narrowed. “And I suppose that if I say he must remain in this room, you will insist on remaining with him. Very well, then; he may do as he wishes. But if trouble comes of it, the fault lies with you.”
Kayl made a quarter-bow in acknowledgement. Light flashed from the gem in the hilt of her sword.
Corrana’s eyebrows rose. “You choose to wear your sword in the Star Hall?”
“As I wore it when I last was here,” Kayl replied.
Corrana made a small, exasperated gesture. “Come, then.” She turned and left, and Kayl and her children followed.
She led them down a long, straight corridor of white marble to one of the small rooms that bordered the inner court. She threw open the door and said in a disapproving tone, “They are here, Your Serenity.”
Kayl motioned Mark and Dara forward as she went in. Her eyes swept the room, taking in the pale blue hangings on the walls, a bronze gong in one corner, and four chairs, piled high with cushions, grouped beside a closed brass brazier in the center of the room. Then she stopped short. One of the chairs was occupied by a white-robed woman. Her hair was white and the lines on her face had deepened, but otherwise she had not changed. “Mother Dalessi!” Kayl said without thinking. Then she remembered Corrana’s salutation and corrected herself. “Elder Mother, I mean; forgive me.”
“It is good to see you again, daughter. Come and sit down, and let me know your children.”
Kayl drew Mark and Dara forward, noting as she did that Corrana had left them alone with the Elder Mother. “My son, Mark; my daughter, Dara,” Kayl said, then turned to the children and went on, “Elder Mother Dalessi was the first Silver Sister I ever saw.”
Dara’s eyes widened as she bobbed her head in acknowledgement, and she glanced quickly up at her mother. Mark kept his gaze on Elder Mother Dalessi, his expression wary.
“Welcome to you both, Mark Kevranil and Dara Kaylar,” Dalessi said.
“My name is Mark Rondalis,” Mark said with an uncertain frown.
Dalessi smiled. “So it would be, in Kith Alunel and most other countries of the Estarren Alliance, where a child’s name follows his father’s family. But there are other ways of naming; among the Thar you would be named for your mother’s
family, Mark and Dara Larrian. We of the Sisterhood make second names of a parent’s name, the father’s for a boy, the mother’s for a girl. So I called you. If I have erred, forgive me. Names are of great importance, and I would not willingly miscall anyone.”
“Oh.” Mark looked thoughtful. “I want to think about that for a while.”
“Of course. But now, come join me. I have a great deal to say to you all, and little time.”
As they took their seats, Kayl glanced toward the closed door. “Corrana—”
“Corrana does not approve of this meeting,” Dalessi said with a slow smile. “She would have stayed, had I allowed it. A little denial of her wishes may do her good.”
“Is that entirely wise?” Kayl said.
Dalessi’s smile faded. “Perhaps not,” she said. “Still, it was necessary. For if she were present, I could not ask you openly: how great has the friendship grown between each of you and her, on your journeying here? Children, you first.”
Mark and Dara looked uncertainly at Kayl. “It’s all right,” Kayl told them. “Tell her exactly how you really feel.”
“I don’t like Corrana,” Mark said positively. “She’s too bossy. And she thinks she knows everything.”
“Well, I do,” Dara offered. “She’s so beautiful and elegant, and she tells me things. Only-—”
“Go on, dear,” Kayl prompted after a moment. “Only what?”
“Only she doesn’t like Glyndon,” Dara said. “And she doesn’t have any reason. He’s nice, even if he is Varnan.”
Kayl looked sharply at her daughter; she didn’t like the thought of Corrana’s attitude toward Varnans rubbing off on Dara.
Before she could speak, Elder Mother Dalessi leaned forward. “Glyndon? Not Glyndon shal Morag?”
Kayl nodded. “He came with us from Copeham. Didn’t Corrana tell you?”
“No.” The Elder Mother pressed her lips together briefly, and Kayl thought that she would not like to be Corrana when Elder Mother Dalessi next crossed her path. Then Dalessi went on: “And you, Kayl—how do you feel about Elder Sister Corrana of the Sussewild?”