Gateway to Fourline (The Fourline Trilogy Book 1) (14 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

“Always use direct eye contact,” Barba said for the hundredth time. “Don’t look above, below, or to the side.”

Nat glanced at the lab classroom’s door.

“No, no, you’re looking to the side. Your job is to observe emotions and anticipate movement. And for the love of all things, do not speak more than absolutely necessary. Warrior Sisters are not loquacious, they are—”

“I know, Sister. They are aloof, fierce, and aware.” Nat recited the oft-spoken descriptions she’d heard over and over during her training the last few weeks. “They’re everything I’m not,” she said in a tired voice and slumped over the stainless-steel counter.

“You have more Sister in you than you know, Natalie,” Barba said with a hint of impatience in her voice.

Ethet held up her hand, silencing Barba. The classroom in the Science Center became eerily quiet. As far as Nat knew, she, Barba, and Ethet were the only people in the entire building, since everyone was still on break. Cairn had given Ethet a set of keys to the building so she could use a centrifuge to extract plant oil. The location was convenient for Nat’s final training lesson.

“I believe we are almost done, Natalie,” Ethet said and placed a stoppered vial full of a balm made from the plant oil next to Nat.
I hope so,
Nat thought. Her brain felt ready to explode from all the last-minute information they were cramming into her.
So much information, but so few answers.
She stifled a yawn and rubbed her sore arm. Her body ached from the hours of self-defense drills Andris had run her through with Estos the night before.

Ethet poured a brown liquid from a thermos into a battered cup and handed it to Nat. She eyed the herbal tea with suspicion, wondering if it was the same foul brew Ethet had been forcing her to drink since she’d arrived back on campus the day after Christmas.

“The balm fights infections.” Ethet gestured to the vial and crumbled a dried herb over a fine linen cloth with her other hand.

Nat sipped the sludge-like tea and made a face.

“Pay attention, Natalie.” Ethet frowned. “This wrap and the dennox are useful for both open wounds and bites. You may find need for it during your journey.” Her authoritative voice forced Nat to focus on the strip of linen. Ethet folded the fabric over several times and tucked it into a cloth case that held a small collection of herbs. “Fortunately these herbs grow on both sides of the membrane,” she said as she tied a knot in the leather string binding the case. “There are more herbs I wish I could give you . . .” She regarded Nat for a moment and pressed the case into her hand. “Don’t forget to bring this tonight.”

Nat stared wearily at her. “I won’t. Are we done now?” she asked, glancing at both Sisters. The aching pressure in her head was almost unbearable.

“Yes, we’re done,” Ethet said gently. Barba nodded in agreement.

Nat sighed, slid off the stool, and walked out of the classroom. She wandered through the deserted halls of the Science Center and out the entrance. The December day was bright and pleasantly warm for winter. Little pools of melted snow covered the walkways crisscrossing the quad. She picked a walkway at random, wondering where to go. She could return to her room, but the idea of spending her last few hours in the dorm was not appealing.

Strains of piano music spilled out from an open window in the college’s chapel. Nat paused and listened to the swell of the music, then pushed open the chapel door. She sat in a pew at the back of the church next to a stained-glass window. A woman played on a grand piano near the altar, utterly lost in the music. Other than the pianist, the chapel was empty. Nat stared at the woman as she played, awed by her focus and intensity. The music soared through the open space of the church. Nat closed her eyes, frustrated with how all of them had evaded so many of her questions over the past few weeks.

She didn’t realize Cairn was sitting next to her until she opened her eyes minutes later. She glanced his way and then focused on the rust-colored tiles. A small puddle was smeared between her boots.

“Barba asked me to find you,” he said.

The music stopped. The pianist looked up and saw them sitting at the back of the chapel. She gathered her music as if embarrassed and exited through a door near the altar. Nat shot a perturbed look at him.

“I just saw her. Isn’t it a little late for more lessons? I’m leaving in a few hours,” she responded, wanting nothing more than to be left alone to clear her mind.

“No more lessons. She was just a little concerned about how you were holding up.” He leaned forward and laid his hands on the pew in front of them.

She turned to him. The bright lights hanging from the ceiling reflected off his glasses. “I’ve been training with and listening to your family and your friends for weeks, and I still have no idea how Fourline can be . . . how it’s even there,” Nat said.

He looked away from her and cleared his throat.

“Vow of silence for you, too, huh?”

“Natalie . . .”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but would you just go?” Nat rubbed her forehead. “Tell Barba and Estos not to worry, I’ll be there.” She wouldn’t break her promise to help Estos. It was too late for her to change her mind, anyway—that opportunity was lost weeks ago when she’d told her parents about the fake scholarship money.

“Natalie,” he said again, “not telling you everything is only to protect you. I promise you that.”

“You can’t fault me for wanting to know what I need protection from,” she snapped.

Cairn stood, his hands still resting on the back of the pew. He hesitated, then leaned down and whispered into Nat’s ear, “Years ago I was wondering the same things you’re wondering right now.”

Nat looked at him with surprise.

“It was my father who first came through from Fourline. He found the entrance, Natalie, but from the other side.” He stopped and looked around the open expanse of the chapel. He gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder. “Some of your questions simply cannot be answered. But know this.” His expression turned serious and Nat gave him her full attention. “There is no way Estos or any of us can ever adequately express our gratitude for what you’ve agreed to do.” His voice trailed off and he straightened his long body. “See you in a few hours, then,” he said as he slipped on his coat and sidestepped out of the pew.

Nat watched him leave and then stared at the shafts of colored light streaming in through the stained glass.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

For a hermit, Benedict liked to talk. Now that the rain had stopped, he was chattering like a bird. Fortunately, he didn’t expect much in the way of a reply. Nat pulled off the damp hood of her cloak so she could hear him better. Her bandaged hands came away covered with donkey hair.

The two were dressed as Yarkow pine merchants doing a little business off the beaten path to avoid a run-in with Rustbrook soldiers. From listening to Benedict, Nat had learned that Lord Mudug had a transportation syndicate. Merchants paid a “security fee,” and Mudug’s men would accompany the merchants through Nala-infested territory. According to Benedict, Mudug had proclaimed the entire southern territory infested, so even when there was no risk of Nala anywhere in the area, merchants still had to pay. It wasn’t uncommon for merchants to use the path less traveled to avoid paying the fee.

“We’ll stop to do a little trading in Yarsburg. There’s usually a group or two that travel without protection, quietly trading there. We can sell the donkeys and drop a hint that we’re joining a wagon of free traders heading west.”

Nat rubbed her back. Two days on a donkey was more than enough for her. The coarse double-burlap cloak that covered her Warrior cloak was matted with donkey hair. She’d been looking at the back of Benedict’s donkey for so long now that she was an expert at dodging the piles it dropped.

“If word got to Gennes, one of his men will meet us a day’s walk from Yarsburg. We’ll need to get through the slag hills in the dark to meet him on time. Gennes’ man won’t wait for us.” Benedict glanced back with a nervous expression. “You have an orb, don’t you?”

“Of course.” Nat tapped into the condescending voice she’d worked on with Barba and Cairn before leaving. A mini–acting class in playing the part of a Sister was just one of the crash courses she’d had in the days leading to her departure. How to use Barba’s orb was another. She felt inside the special pocket that held the orb. It warmed slightly at her touch.

“No offense meant, Sister.” Benedict wiped the back of his hand across his nose. “So many orbs were destroyed or confiscated when Mudug burned the Houses. It wouldn’t be a shameful thing if you didn’t have one or if you couldn’t make one during your apprenticeship.”

“I have one,” Nat said firmly. He’d been poking and asking about her apprenticeship since they’d started this interminable ride. Nat had let it slip that she was from a northern fringe house like Ethet suggested, but she wasn’t sure he was buying it.

Benedict rubbed his thin leg and continued. “Good. We’ll need light to get through those fields, and a torch would draw too much attention.”

Nat felt her inner pocket a second time, touching the orb and remembering the moment Barba had turned the confounding thing over to her. Based on Barba’s expression, she knew the orb had better come back with her. “The orb has a part of its Sister in it,” Barba had explained. “That’s why it responds to only the Sister.” She had pressed her orb to her lips and whispered to it before placing it gently in Nat’s palm. She’d continued, slightly misty-eyed. “Speak to it and it will listen to you now,” she’d said. The orb had felt cold when Nat had touched it to her lips. Feeling slightly stupid, she’d whispered, “Hi, orb.” The orb had warmed instantly.

Benedict’s voice broke her away from the memory. “It’s coming up here after the bend. You’ll be wanting to stop, I suppose, but just for a few moments. We can’t waste our time, especially on things that can’t be undone.”

Nat glanced around. The donkeys crossed over a little creek and up the side of the gulley. She leaned forward as they emerged from the gorge. Tall, wet grass brushed the soles of her boots. A fine mist was coming down. She gazed into the distance. Ahead of them stood a gently sloping hill. The blackened ruins of a series of buildings stood in contrast to the lush green crowning the hill. Nat pulled back on the thin leather rein. Her donkey brayed in protest.

“What . . . ?”

“I know, I know. It’s still a shocking sight to me as well. I used to come here to get the herbs from the Sisters and consult with the Head of the House.” Benedict directed his donkey to the road. “Might as well use the road a bit. Hardly anyone ever travels this way anymore.”

Nat followed. So this was one of the Houses, or at least what was left of it. None of the maps Barba or Estos had provided her included any images of them. After discovering that they were places of learning, she had imagined small brick school buildings. But her imagination and Barba’s limited descriptions had been far from the truth. This House had been made up of many buildings, all massive in size.

The road curved gracefully up the hill and ended at the remains of an old brickwork archway. As they rode under the remains, three jackrabbits scampered from beneath an enormous scorched door. What remained of an intricate carving of a sun covered its entire central panel. Nat thought she recognized smaller carvings of a vine, a bird, and a sword as they passed by.

Benedict stopped his donkey, dismounted with a slight wobble, and tied the reins to the remnants of a stone post. “I’ll do a little scavenging while you pay your respects, Sister. I found a crop remaining from the Head’s private garden last time I was this way. She’d want them to go to good use, and we may have need of the herbs where we’re going.” Benedict hobbled off around the charred remains.

Nat slowly dismounted, unable to take her eyes off the three massive stone staircases leading to the sky. Their wooden destinations had been burnt to oblivion. She picked her way over piles of crumbled brickwork to a set of stone stairs leading to what must have been the entrance to the House. The charred remains of another door slanted on its side near the entrance. She thought how her father would admire the engraving and the thickness of the wood that had clearly withstood such intense heat. With an awkward step, she slipped on a wet, glassy stone and landed on her side. Her arm shot out instinctively as she landed. When Andris had taught her how to fall without cracking her head, the floor had been much softer than this.

Rubbing her arm, Nat sat up and examined the slippery stone. Words were etched into the surface. She wiped away a clump of desiccated leaves and dirt. A row of stones encircled the entrance. Each had a name carved into the greenish surface. “Head Sister Ethea Matris, Head Sister Etheb Zornob, Head Sister Ethec Sallin.” She read name after name until she came to the last stone: “Head Sister Ethet Nightswain.”

“Ah, Sister Ethet.”

Startled by the voice, Nat rolled to the side and unsheathed her dagger.

Benedict dropped his bundle of herbs and stumbled backward. “Now don’t get all cackled!” he cried.

“I don’t like people sneaking up on me.” She sheathed her dagger.

“Then you picked the wrong House to belong to, didn’t you?” he said angrily. “Mind me, would you look at this jumble.” Benedict clutched his ears. “The dennox is mixed in with the camroot. Can’t have that now. Take one for a Nala bite and find out you’ve lost all use of your limbs.” Benedict knelt with care and picked through the pile with worn hands.

“You’ve got dennox?” Nat knelt and helped Benedict sort the fallen roots and herbs. Ethet had grilled the roots’ names and purposes into her over and over again. When dennox was dried, it could be made into a paste to cover any type of bite, particularly a Nala bite.

“I found a little bounty back there.” He pointed to an open patch near a thicket of trees. “That, and some camroot.”

Nat pulled out the small fabric case Ethet had given her. “I’ve got a bit of dennox, but my supplies are down.”

“Since when does a Warrior Sister carry an apothecary?” Benedict eyed the case.

“Since this.” She waved her arm in the direction of the ruins. Benedict sighed. He pulled the long, thin strands of dennox from the rounded leaves of the camroot. Nat put judgment aside and asked, “You knew Sister Ethet?”

“What a silly question. Of course I knew the Head Sister. Any healer of worth knew Ethet Nightswain.” He sat back, raised his tunic above the boot line, and began rubbing his leg. Even under the breeches, Nat could see how thin it was. “She was an apprentice when my father brought me here with limb sickness.”

“Polio,” Nat said softly to herself.

“She was a good friend.” Benedict rolled slightly and stood. “We had a few disagreements about the duozi.” He spat on the ground. “I never understood how she could tolerate them. If you can’t heal them, then the best place for them is with their own kind or dead,” he said bitterly. “She never listened to sense. She’d keep them around and try to heal them, even when they were too far gone.” He walked slowly and carefully over the rubble toward the donkeys. Nat followed, listening.

“Word was she sent Sisters sympathetic to duozi into Nala territory to study under that crazy predecessor of hers,” he grumbled as he approached the donkeys. “Her love of the duozi was her House’s downfall. Mudug justified his destruction of this place because she helped them. Called her a sympathizer. Where were her little duozi then?” He looked back at the ruins.

Nat wondered what he meant as they untied the tethered donkeys. She helped boost Benedict onto the unwilling animal. The frustration of pretending to know and understand everything he said was beginning to wear on her. The sleeve on Nat’s tunic rolled up as she helped Benedict. His gaze lingered on her markings.

“You’ll want to cover up before we get to Yarsburg. Most people this far from Rustbrook secretly support the Sisters, but enough believe Mudug’s rumors about the Sisters conspiring with the Nala. You’ll be turned in if you let anyone see that.”

“I can take care of myself,” Nat said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Ho-ho. I think I hit a bit of a nerve.” He leaned crookedly in the saddle. “You may be up for a challenge, Sister. Living on the fringe as your like’s been doing these past years leaves you missing out on one important thing.”

Nat climbed onto her donkey, wincing slightly as her sore bottom hit the saddle. “And what’s that?”

“Information.” He touched a skinny finger to his temple. “What you don’t know can kill you.” He smiled.

“Then humor me and treat me like an imbecile. Tell me everything that’s happened while I’ve been living on the fringe.” She coaxed her donkey to move and glanced back. “You talk enough that you should be able to tell the story of the world before we reach Yarsburg.”

Benedict snorted and turned his donkey. “First thing I’ll tell you, Sister, is you’re going the wrong way.” He pointed to the distant mountains. “Yarsburg is that way.”

Her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. The donkey brayed and turned as she pulled gently at the reins.
He doesn’t need to treat me like an imbecile—I am one,
Nat thought.