She was the one all the novices turned to if they had a problem, and if they could find her. She was most often closeted with the Lestra or working in the infirmary or bustling about on convent business and hard to track down. Shavell, on the other hand, was always available, especially when you least wanted her.
They traveled in near silence except for the noise the horses made. Astira and Ellynor, of course, were too overwhelmed to speak, though they exchanged wide-eyed glances now and then. Two guards rode before the women, two behind, and made no conversation that Ellynor could overhear. Now and then Darris and the Lestra murmured together, but never for long. Ellynor imagined that, in years of living at the convent together, the two women had already discussed every topic that might come up.
At first they traveled through woodland, for the convent was located deep in the forest, but gradually they won their way to a main road cutting through more open terrain. The day was warm and a little humid, so Ellynor was a little sorry to leave the shade of the trees, but at least now she could gauge the position of the sun and guess their direction. She nearly clapped her hands together as she realized they were heading northwest. Neft! she mouthed to Astira, who smiled in delight.
Sure enough, by the time the sun began to set, they were pulling up on the outskirts of the city. Ellynor felt her head practically swivel on her neck as she tried to take in all the sights at once. There was no such thing as a city in the Lirrens—just the occasional clusters of sebahta families living in a more tight-knit community than others. Astira had said Neft was small by the standards of Ghosenhall, but Ellynor found it hard to imagine anything more grand than this place, with its crisscross of streets, its clutter of buildings, its press of people, its sounds, its smell, its energy.
The guards did not pause as they crossed into the city proper, though they had to make their way more slowly through the crowded streets. Even Ellynor could tell that some parts of town were more respectable than others, for they moved past buildings that had a slovenly look, dirty and ill-kept, and into districts where the storefronts were neat, the window boxes weeded, the doors covered in fresh paint.
Eventually they climbed a rather steep hill and came to a halt. They were outside an elegant three-story building located on about an acre of land enclosed by a wrought-iron fence. One of the guards helped the Lestra from the saddle. The other women dismounted without assistance, then the guards gathered up the horses. “Come for us tomorrow around noon,” the Lestra directed. “We will know then if we want to leave or stay another day.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Darris pulled back the iron gate and the Lestra strode in, the others trailing behind her. The wide front door had already been opened, and servants were bowing low, some of them touching their fists to their right shoulders. The Lestra swept by them as if they were invisible. Feeling just as invisible themselves, Astira and Ellynor followed Darris inside, then craned their necks to take in the opulence of the furnishings. Lush carpets, gold statuettes, high ceilings, stained glass. Certainly richer than Ellynor was used to, either at the convent or back home.
They were quickly ushered into a large parlor that was littered with chairs and sofas and small tables. An elegant, middle-aged, dark-haired woman rose to meet them, holding her hands out to take the Lestra’s in a warm clasp.
“Coralinda! So good of you to come. You’re looking well.”
“Thank you, Jenetta. The goddess watches over me.”
“Are you tired? Are you hungry? Would you like to eat or rest awhile?”
“We can do that later. Take me to your mother first, since her situation is so grave.”
The woman swept a doubtful
Renata McMann, Summer Hanford