Читать книгу Red Sister онлайн | страница 83

Ahead of Nona and Clera a novice laboured towards the tower in limping steps, a crutch under her left armpit.

‘Someone must have got kicked a bit hard in Blade yesterday!’ Nona slowed her pace as they caught the girl up. No one had been limping in the dormitory, and yet there was something familiar about the novice.

‘Ha!’ Clera shouted, ‘That’s just Stumpy!’ She raced past, jostling the girl enough to make her stagger.

Nona came to a halt, almost level with the novice, reaching to catch her, then pulling back her hands as she saw it wasn’t needed. The girl was hardly taller than her, hair the colour of straw set about her head in a hundred tight curls. ‘Nona,’ she said, without turning.

Nona knew the voice. ‘Hessa?’

Hessa pivoted on her crutch. The length of the habit hid her withered leg, but only the tip of her shoe touched the ground on that side. ‘We’ve come a long way from Giljohn’s cage.’

Nona had her arms about her before she had time to blink. ‘They killed Saida.’

‘I’m sorry for it.’ Hessa lifted a hand uncertainly to pat Nona between the shoulders.

‘How are you here? Why haven’t I seen you?’ Nona released her and stepped back.

‘I’ve been in the sanatorium. Sister Rose wanted to keep me in until I got rid of this cough.’ Hessa thumped a fist against her narrow chest. ‘I’ve been here for weeks. Giljohn tried to sell me at the Academy but I failed their tests. They said I was the wrong sort, quantal maybe, but definitely not marjal. He tried to sell me to three different mages. Their houses are so big, Nona! I thought we were going into the emperor’s palace—’

‘NooooOOOooona!’ Clera hollering from the north door. ‘We’ll be late!’

‘Coming!’

‘We’d better hurry.’ Hessa shifted her weight and set her crutch forward.

A bony hand closed on both their shoulders. ‘The heathens have found each other, I see!’ Sister Wheel pushed between them. ‘The peasant and the cripple, plotting together. We’ll soon clear out those muddy little minds. Scrub away heresy and falsehood so the Ancestor may find you worthy. Even simple clay can be moulded and fired into something of worth.’