King's Blood Read Free Page A

properly.”
    â€œShe hopes that you will make a Christian of me,” Edith said, then added with care, “lady.”
    â€œI will make a Christian of you,” the abbess said, “and a bride of God.”
    Edith kept her lips tightly pressed together. She knew better than to say what she thought of that.
    â€œSister Rotrude will take you to the mistress of novices,” her aunt said, inclining her head toward the aged nun who had brought Edith from the gate. “Your mother, no doubt, has taught you the rudiments of obedience. You will be obedient always, and humble before the face of the Lord. Do you understand?”
    â€œI will try,” Edith said, and again: “lady.”
    â€œYou will call me Mother Abbess,” her aunt said. “Now go.”
    Edith could hardly have been happier to be dismissed. The air in the abbess’ study had the same deadness that it did where her mother was. Even the cloister was easier to bear than that.
    As her guide led her away, she found her wits somewhere. She remembered what her father had told her once, that a fighting man was wise to notice everything around him. He never knew when a small thing might save his life.
    This was war in its way. She kept her head bent, but her eyes were alert, taking in as much as they could. She set herself to remember where they went: which turns, how many steps in each stair.
    She did not know how well she did it, but she tried. It gave her something to think about, and it kept her from dissolving into tears. She was a long way from any home she had known, and from any human thing that she could call friend.
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There was no one in the novices’ dormitory when she came there—no novices, no dour nun to rule over them. Sister Rotrude left her without a word, all alone in the big bare room with its rows of hard narrow cots. Each had a thin blanket folded over a straw pallet, and nothing else to warm it or make it comfortable.
    The only light came from high narrow windows. At night there must be lamps, but Edith did not see any now, while it was still midday.
    What she did see was a flock of the folk of air peering through the windows. They tumbled together into the room, a whole babbling stream of them, scattering through the barren space and casting light in corners that had not seen such a thing since the abbey was built. They brought more than light: they brought beauty, and a memory of the world’s splendor.
    Edith sat on a cot that did not feel as if anyone was using it, and tucked up her feet and folded her hands. The folk of air explored every crack and cranny of the room. That did not take them very long. When they were done, they gathered in a flock, clustering along the beams and hanging head down, bat-like, from the windowframes.
    They made her smile. She wondered if anyone had ever smiled in this place. How she was going to live here, she did not know. She was tired, hungry, thirsty. She was terribly alone.
    Someone was watching her. There was no danger in it that she could feel. She waited quietly.
    After a while the watcher came round in front of her. She looked up along a length of black-robed body to a face that made her start.
    The lady smiled. Even Edith’s fierce glare did not make her stop.
    â€œYou went away,” Edith accused her. “You left me alone.”
    â€œSome things are necessary,” the lady said. As soft as her voice was, it had the ring of steel. “Come now. The rest of the novices are waiting to meet you.”
    Edith narrowed her eyes. “It’s you. You’re the mistress of novices.”
    â€œHere,” said the lady, “I am Sister Cecilia, and you owe me obedience.”
    â€œYou’re not always here. Are you?”
    â€œI am here while you need me,” Sister Cecilia said. “For many reasons, you need this place. You’ll learn those reasons as time passes. For now, study what you see; and remember. And cultivate