Burn Bright - By Marianne de Pierres Page 0,15

her head, sick to her stomach with shame. She had never seen another girl’s body so closely, so brazenly.

‘Thought so!’ Cal sounded triumphant.

As she tried to think of something to say, the smell of funeral roses filled Retra’s senses, telling her that another person had joined them.

‘Aaah, baby bats, getting to know each other, I see,’ said Charlonge.

Cal released her shift and it fell back to its place over her breast. ‘How long do we have to put up with that stupid nickname?’

Charlonge stepped closer to them, breathing the sweet floral scent from her mouth. ‘Until you have earned a real one.’

Cal’s eyes widened for a moment then she gave a brittle laugh and walked back down the corridor.

‘Thank you,’ said Retra.

Charlonge sighed. ‘You of all must learn quickly … what Ixion name have you chosen? It is customary for the younglings to do so. A fresh start.’

‘I don’t know,’ answered Retra. The question surprised her. Many would think her Seal name unattractive, but it was still hers. She had no wish to change it. She would not lose her identity in this place.

Charlonge saw her reticence and shrugged. ‘Naif would be my choice for you – naive – but there’s time enough for choosing, I suppose. Come with me and I’ll show you your closet and where you may eat.’

‘Is Charlonge your adopted name?’ asked Retra as she followed the older girl.

‘Yes. I grew up to see things: outside what is visible, I mean. But my people disdained the occult. Somehow “Charlonge” seemed right. It means acceptance, you know.’

Retra didn’t understand what Charlonge meant. The occult was not revered in Grave, but neither was it disdained. In Grave it was more sinful to be joyous than a practitioner of the Dark Arts. ‘Who are your people?’

‘The Lidol from Lidol-Push.’

‘Another world?’ Retra gasped.

This time Charlonge laughed freely. ‘You are truly naive. Your real name should be Naif. Not another world, silly batling, another province. Grave is not the only land near Ixion.’

Retra stared at her, embarrassed and amazed. ‘How many others are there?’

‘Many.’ She laughed. ‘I’ve heard a reaction like yours once before. Are you what they call a Seal?’

Retra nodded.

‘Aaah. Then your learning has been very narrow. Your Superiors keep things from you. You must keep your ignorance a secret.’

‘What is your land like? How does it look? Where do you find it exactly?’ asked Retra.

But Charlonge shook her head. ‘Maybe I will answer you another time. Or maybe not. Now, though, you must dress for the Early-Eve. Your sleeping attire will never do.’

As they reached the foot of the staircase, the music swelled in soulful strums, each note more beautiful and sadder than the last. It plucked at Retra’s senses.

‘Charlonge. The music. Who is playing it? I couldn’t see properly from the balcony.’

Charlonge paused. ‘Aaah, at last, a good sign from you. You are among many to ask me that question. He is like you – a baby bat. But not for long, I think. His name is Markes and he has wings. Brilliant, jewelled wings.’

Markes was here. Cal had lied to her!

Charlonge beckoned Retra across the entry to what must have once been the church’s cloak room. It was now filled with rows of drawers and full-length mirrors.

‘We call this the neglegere. Beyond it is the wash room. Find your closet and choose your Early-Eve clothes. You must eat in the transept, take confession and then leave. Those who linger are noticed,’ she said.

‘C-can I come back?’

‘Of course, when you need to rest, but not before you have been other places. Baby bats love to explore.’ She began to turn away.

‘Charlonge, I am looking for someone …’

Charlonge turned slowly back to face her, a half smile hovering on her lips. ‘A boy, no doubt.’

‘Yes. But not like that. I’m looking for my brother. He and I … we look similar, though he is taller and came here a while ago. I m-missed him, so I came after him.’

Charlonge’s expression became guarded. ‘Do you know how many come to Ixion? How many I see? Why would I remember one boy above another?’ she said in a harsh whisper.

Retra flushed, stung by the girl’s sudden change of tone. ‘Can you tell me where to look? Where would I start?’ said Retra softly.

‘I would not start. Forget your brother.’

Charlonge walked away, leaving Retra standing alone, unsure of what to do.

Her indecision was broken a moment later when four girls pushed past her. Giggling and talking loudly, they sought their lockers