the day. Since she’d lost hers Nona had never quite felt part of the world.
‘Where are we—’
Jula ignored Nona’s attempt at a question and marched on. She passed the Glasswater sinkhole and continued across pitted stone until they stood just yards from the jagged edge where the Rock dropped away. She pointed east. In the distance smoke smudged the sky.
‘You’ve been very busy the last few days, Nona, and nobody wanted to trouble you in the sanatorium … but that smoke? That’s Queen Adoma’s front line. Sherzal has returned to the Ark. They say the battle in the field is all but lost. Heretics will be at Verity’s walls in a week. Maybe sooner.’
‘But …’ Nona hadn’t known it was this bad. ‘What about the Ninth and the Seventh?’ The emperor’s personal divisions were an elite with fearsome reputation, forged through centuries. ‘Everyone says Crucical will deploy them.’
‘The Ninth went west last seven-day. A Durn army showed up at the walls of Arnton. The convent of Silent Patience and the monastery at Red Rill are both in ruins. The Seventh are lining up before the Ark but their numbers are badly depleted.’
‘Where do you get all this from?’ Nona demanded, not wanting to believe. ‘You sit in that library all day when you’re not in class!’
Jula pointed again and Nona followed her line back to the many-windowed spire of the convent rookery. ‘The armies have lost so many message birds they’re using church rooks now. And Darla taught me to read the standard military codes.’ Jula’s face fell. ‘General Rathon died at the coast last week …’
‘I …’ Nona had wanted to tell Darla’s father that she had brought Joeli Namsis to justice for her death. The general would never hear it now. Perhaps it wouldn’t have given him any comfort, but Nona thought Darla would be happier. Darla had never been the forgiving sort. ‘Well … it makes what we’re doing all the more important.’
‘Be careful.’ Jula managed a weak smile.
‘Me?’ Nona returned a brighter one. ‘You’re coming too! There’s no time for you to teach me how filing systems work now. I need you to find the book once we’re in!’
The four friends met by the laundry well, Nona and Jula arriving to find Ara aleady waiting with Ruli.
‘Joeli did this to us,’ Nona said by way of greeting.
‘She made us steal forbidden books?’ Ruli asked.
Nona repressed a snarl. Ruli hadn’t seen Darla die, hadn’t seen Joeli cause it. ‘She knows too much about us. She’s a Tacsis spy, right here in the convent. We should—’
‘Kill her?’ Jula asked. ‘The Book of the Ancestor is against the sort of thing.’ She favoured Nona with a level stare.
‘All right, all right, Holy Sister.’ Nona shook her head. Julia’s calmness, her goodness, was something Nona valued in these situations, though usually in hindsight rather than at the time. ‘I wasn’t going to suggest murdering her … Not exactly.’
‘What then?’ Ara asked.
Nona let her breath escape in a long sigh. ‘We’ll deal with her when we get back.’ She stepped into the well, taking hold of the rope. ‘Come on then.’
The four of them descended to the chamber beneath the novice cloister then began to thread the undercaves. They passed through the cavern where the strange free-standing ring stood taller than a man, crossed the spot where they had once faced down a holothour, and went on down the cliff beyond. Ten minutes later they passed the sad, calcified skeletons in their niche, and finally emerged back into the light through the hidden crack onto the slopes towards the base of the Seren Way.
Despite their covert escape, Nona felt watched. Joeli had driven her to this. Joeli had spurred her to sudden action. And, although she saw no sign of the girl, somehow Nona felt that the eyes on her back belonged to that same despicable puller of threads. Joeli was a spider in a web, but one bigger than she could ever have built herself.
The sense of being under observation waned as they approached the city gates after an hour’s brisk walk from the foot of the Rock. Although the streets of Verity had lost none of their colour they had gained enough streaks of grey and brown to paint a very different picture from the usual scene. Groups of refugees huddled on every corner. The city guard moved them on but there were always more to replace them. Peasants muddy from their journey with tattered bundles on their back.