Page 25 of Heir

“Anger is still belief, Aiz,” Sister Noa said. “Tell the tale. Not for yourself, but for the children. Div knows they must get precious little instruction here.”

Aiz dug her fingers into her thigh, anger nipping at her mind, demanding to be fed. But the only person who deserved her ire was herself, so she sat on the dirty stone floor and gestured for the children to join her.

“Gather, gather and listen well, for Mother Div’s voice must not be forgotten.” She started the tale as all the Sacred Tales began. “Long ago and across the sea, there was a fair gold and green land that was ours alone. It had at its heart a Fount of golden light, and that was the source of our magic.”

She told the children then of the cataclysm that struck the old country ten centuries ago. Of Mother Div’s desperate search for a new homeland for her people. Of her elation when she discovered Kegar, a spit of land ringed by soaring rock spires.

The children listened, and Aiz heard rustles from the cell next door, saw movement through the bars as other prisoners edged forward. Once, someone called a warning and Aiz ceased until Kithka—slappingher whip against her leather pants—had stalked by. When the story was over, Hani, Jak, and Finh watched Aiz with open mouths. Prisoners murmured up and down the cellblock.

“That was beautiful,” a rough voice said from across the hall—a Dafra Snipe, judging from his rounded vowels. “Tell another, would you, girl? Passes the time for the littles.”

Aiz wanted to say no. But the children in her own cell looked at her hopefully.

“One more, then,” she said. To her surprise, her heart lifted. Perhaps the stories that meant so much to her as a child weren’t useless. “Gather, gather and listen—”

“Ssst!” a voice hissed. “Questioners!”

Panic whipped through the air like shrapnel as prisoners receded into the dark of their cells. Children cried out and were hushed as quickly. Prayers of “Mother Div, please” echoed through the cellblock as the tha-thunktha-thunkof the Questioners’ boots grew louder.

And louder. Until finally, the boots stopped in front of Aiz’s cell. She looked up, summoning her anger. She wouldn’t let these bastards break her.

The Questioners were cloaked in blue and black, faces hidden. One stepped forward, a hand on the whip at his belt.

“Clerics.” His voice was menacing in its softness. “Rise.”

Aiz’s anger transformed into panic. “No,” she said. “They didn’t do anything. I’m the one who—who thought of this plot. I’m the one who—”

“The more you talk,” the Questioner said, “the worse it will be for them.”

Aiz held her tongue, hands shaking as Sister Olnas stumbled to her feet, Noa by her side, as the Questioners grabbed each cleric by the wrists and led them out, down the hallway to a place Aiz could not follow.

The Questioners brought Noa and Olnas back to the cell a few hours after taking them. They could hardly walk, their clothes soaked with blood and tears and grime.

“Turn away,” Aiz ordered the children. Jak and Finh obeyed, covering their little faces. Hani grabbed a box from the corner, offering it to Aiz. Inside, she found a bottle of spirits, gauze, and a few clean cloths.

“Kithka gave it to me,” Hani said. “Said it was to keep us from squealing too much.”

“Thank you, Hani.” Aiz turned to Olnas, but she waved her off.

“Hani can help me.” Olnas winced as she ran her fingers through her tangled hair. “Noa took the worst of it. Tend to her first.”

Aiz cleaned Sister Noa’s wounds: bruises that would take weeks to heal, cuts and lacerations that would take months.Mother Div, let her heal. Mother Div, let it be quick.

“Aiz,” Jak whispered, having broken away from Finh. He stared at Sister Noa. “Will she die? When Mam died, she looked yellow and sick like that. I—I’m scared.”

Aiz took the boy’s hand, her heart clenching at the way his body shook. “It’s all right, little love,” she whispered. “Do something for me, yes? Tell me a dream. A hope.”

“A dream?” Jak appeared to have forgotten the word.

“Well…I dream of shoes. Thick, warm ones, with fur on the inside.” Aiz wiggled her toes in the dark, and Jak’s mouth turned up, just a little.

“I dream of sugar,” he said. “Da brought it once. From the market.”

“I dream of chicken.” Finh limped over. “A big, juicy one, with red pepper and lots of salt.”

Next to Olnas, Hani spoke without looking over. “I dream of the wind,” she said. “I miss the sound it makes in the spring.”

“May Mother Div hear you,” Aiz said. “And bring you all of your beautiful dreams.”

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