closed world of the convent was about to be broken open. The endgame had arrived.
‘Fifteen.’
Nona reached for her clarity trance, picturing a dead candle and the memory of a flame flickering above it. Her clarity couldn’t pierce the shadows but it made other things clear. Clarity brought her to the realization that Apple didn’t expect her to try the challenge. This was a goodbye. She should take the Red.
‘Nineteen. Twenty.’
Nona ran into the night-dark room.
‘Nona! What in the Ancestor’s name are you doing?’ Sister Apple’s cry rang with genuine distress. ‘This is madness!’
Cold stone greeted Nona’s outstretched palms, her clarity enough to bring her to the gap between the left window and the centre one that she and Ara had trapped. Knowing that Apple hadn’t intended her to attempt the task brought both relief and dismay. It meant the nun had wished her no harm but it also meant that Apple didn’t believe anyone without basic shadow-work fit for the Grey.
Nona felt for the edge of the window shaft. On occasion she missed Keot’s acidic commentary but she’d never really missed his violation of her body until she needed to see in the dark. As unpleasant as having an ancient devil invade your eyeballs was … it could be very handy.
Despite the daylight outside, Sister Apple’s darkness filled the window shaft. Nona knew where the wires lay but to trust to memories made with no particular urgency could prove suicidal. A moment of inspiration settled on her. She defocused her sight. With proper illumination the thread-scape overlaid whatever she would normally see, and those visual clues helped make sense of the confusion of threads, a near infinite complexity of them springing from every surface, passing through each other and solid objects, leaving the world at strange angles. In darkness the mass of threads was normally far more bewildering. However, Nona already knew how the chamber looked. She had spent a good portion of her life in it. She knew the shape of the window, the nature of the stone, even the weave of the magic that had stolen the daylight. And, more by chance than judgement, she had examined the threads of the Ark-steel wires. This prior acquaintance, combined with a rough knowledge of their position, allowed her to pick out from a chaotic background the taut sections placed in her path.
Even so, Nona moved far more slowly than she would have done had she been able to see. With daylight she could spot the telltale wedges, and move her head for a glimmer along the wires’ length. She advanced on all fours, having to negotiate a second, third, and fourth wire before being able to wholly discount the first from her considerations. Novices had been badly cut before when manoeuvring to pass a new wire and forgetting the one now level with their knee or foot.
Passing the seventh wire, Nona felt a tickle along the side of her left calf. No pain, though, not until the sharp sting as she adjusted her position and moved on.
At the cliff face Sister Apple’s shadows boiled away into the day. Nona stuck her head beneath the last wire and looked up. Ara was twenty yards above her with ten more to go. She was climbing barefoot, presumably having abandoned her shoes in the cavern in anticipation.
Nona had to force herself to patience. Not until every part of her was past the last wire would she be safe. If clinging to the outside of the Rock of Faith in a Corridor wind could be considered safe.
She drew herself clear as swiftly as she could while still remaining sure that she knew where each limb was relative to each wire. A few moments later she hung above the drop to the plains some three hundred yards below.
The delay in the window shaft had left Nona lagging behind Ara by a considerable distance. More than Sister Apple’s count of twenty could account for. Unless she closed the gap there would be no way she could make it in time. In moments Ara would disappear over the edge to the left of the treacherous section between Blade and Heart Hall. Seconds later she would be running around the back of Heart Hall. Finally a sprint along the length of the winery and across some open space would bring her to the gate that sealed the Shade steps.
Nona launched herself upwards, disdaining any attempt at finding handholds and footholds. She drove her flaw-blades into the Rock itself