This Red Sky

Chapter Sixteen

There was a rustling above her. Young women whispered to each other around the hard cot on which she lay. Sonia opened her eyes, finding them dry as sandpaper, and groaned, turning onto her side.

"She's awake!" the girl who'd caught her in the sanctuary said excitedly. "Should we get Mother?"

"She won't hear the vision until tomorrow morning," another young female voice advised in a hushed voice. "Best not to wake her up."

"What about the senior sisters? It's no good staying up if they're going to rat us out."

There was the patter of feet running to the wooden door. It creaked open a crack, and then closed.

"I think they're asleep!" An even younger voice announced at a loud whisper.

"Good," the first girl said, satisfied. Sonia felt a hand shake her shoulder gently. "Sister! Sister Mareka, come back to us!"
She rubbed her eyes and opened them. A dozen maidens were gathered around her cot, wearing clean white shifts. Their hair was loosed from the veils, and spilled in dark curls or waves down their backs, their skin ranging from warm honey to deepest black. Each face was expectant, eyes widened. A girl of eleven or twelve pushed to the front of the group, kneeling up on the foot of the cot in anticipation.

"So what did you see?" this youngest girl demanded.

"Sala!" the sister from the sanctuary pulled her hair, and she yelped. "That is for Mother's ears only."

She looked back to Sonia.

"Did he say why you were chosen?"

Sonia rubbed her aching head.

"Chosen?" she croaked. "By who?"

"The dark god!" the sister said as though it were obvious. She gestured to the simple shrine on the other side of the room, as if Sonia might not be familiar.

"What—what was that?" Sonia sat up. The dim candlelight in the room was too bright. "The ritual, the drug—"

"We perform it at the new moon of every month," the same sister said importantly. "Each time, great Gamorax chooses a sister—maybe two—to grace with a vision. Tomorrow morning, you'll have to tell Mother what you saw, and she'll relate the important parts back to the Dron."

Sonia flopped back down on the cot, staring at the ceiling in exasperation. There was no way she was recounting to the intimidating old woman the passions that went between herself and Syralth as the past months swirled around them.

"So what do they usually see?" she asked.

"Well, we don't know," the sister said a little dejectedly. "See, it's usual one of the senior mädrachins who get the honour. That's why there's so much fuss."

Great. More attention was the last thing Sonia wanted. She looked from one excited face to another. The young girl at her feet nodded and bounced on her knees.

"Ok," Sonia sat up again, rubbing her temples. "Uh, that's fine."

"Oh, and I'm Polla, by the way. Sister Polla," the girl continued. She gestured to the small girl, who beamed. "This is Sala, and her sister—blood sister—Daria. And these are the Sisters Helga, Rohesa..."

She continued around the group, naming each mädrachin in turn. Sonia nodded and forced a smile, having absorbed few of the names.

She looked to the small window. No light came through the blue and red glass.