This Red Sky

Chapter Nineteen

It was a particularly dark night. Sonia lifted her head from the cot in the dormitory, sitting up, bare feet touching the floor. Her heart began to pound inside her chest.

She could hear the soft breathing of the other sisters, and see their sleeping bodies in the dark—thick hair fanned out on thin pillows, a neat row against the wall.

Polla slept, curled up on her side. Her dark eyes were closed, peaceful for the first time in days.

Sonia knelt beside her cot, lifting the mattress as quietly as possible and pulling out her old clothes. The yellow robe pooled around her feet. Sonia folded it, laying it on the foot of the narrow cot, the sash rolled up on top, before pulling on her threadbare dress and skirt. The wool was fraying, and rough against her skin. Her hair fell loose down her back. She pushed her feet into the convent-issued shoes, heading for the door.

She opened it slowly. There was no sound from the hinges. A sister was snoring softly behind one of the doors that lined the hall. Sonia shut the door behind her, creeping unveiled down the carpeted hallway.

The door to the garden creaked loudly as she let herself out, hearing the guards by the front door chatting tiredly. The clouds blocked out the stairs, and the sounds of the outside hit her like a wave—distant clopping of horses' hooves, the sweeping of cloaks and robes over marble.

Sonia moved quickly now, stacking crates beside the high stone wall that blocked the mädrachins from outside eyes. Clambering on top of the shaky arrangement of three wooden boxes, she peered over the top.

The street along the side of the Temple looked the same as ever. Three men in black priests' robes walked steadily off in the other direction. A street sweeper passed them, his broom over his shoulder. It was nearly midnight, and the street was deserted as they rounded the corner, disappearing.

With a grunt of effort, Sonia hoisted herself over the top of the wall, hanging down on the other side, legs dangling. Her fingers slipped, and she dropped six feet to the ground.

Her feet hit the stone street hard, and she staggered back from the wall, falling onto her side. Sonia quickly got up, gritting her teeth against the pain of the impact, looking around. She was out. She turned and ran, out onto the road.

Her feet pounded on the street as she fled the clerical district, back to the jungle of limestone and wood that had once spelled freedom. A wooden set of stairs quivered and creaked as she ran up them, to a rickety wooden platform.

A group of men were standing under the torch affixed to the back wall of a building, drinking and laughing. Sonia's back tightened at the sound of a loud wolf-whistle and louder laughter as she rushed past.

At first, as she made her way through the streets that wound around the dilapidated buildings, from the cobblestone on the ground to the wood that creaked as the wind blew, Sonia thought the city looked different in the darkness. But then she began to find that something had changed. Swords were stacked high outside a blacksmith. Men with weapons leaned against walls and door frames, or stalked along the same streets she walked. The city was changing under the spectre of a Faithful uprising.

Sonia doubted Syralth would be sleeping at a tavern, but had no idea where else to check. Nakt loved the bar near the wall, built into the lower floor of what was once a bank in the city's prosperous past. Feeling stupid, Sonia slowed to a walk. Rare rain began to fall. Goosebumps rose on her damp skin, and Sonia shivered.

Even as most honest people had abandoned the streets, she could hear the sounds of the revelling inside as she grew closer to the base of the stone building, mixed with the steady patter of rain on stone. The wooden door swung open and two men staggered out, one of them bending over and retching. Vomit splattered to the cobblestones, and Sonia dodged around them as she pushed the door open, almost colliding with a large, burly man as she stepped inside.