Vespertine (Vespertine #1)(9)
“Nearly anyone can master a relic binding some common First or Second Order wraith. The sisters are proof enough of that. But your talent is in a different realm entirely. I have no doubt that you are destined for great things. In Bonsaint, you will be trained to wield—”
“I’m not going to Bonsaint,” I interrupted. “I’m going to stay in Naimes and become a nun.”
He stopped and stared at me as though I’d spoken gibberish. Slowly, a look of astonished disgust crept across his features. “Why would you ever want such a thing?”
I didn’t bother trying to explain. I knew he wouldn’t understand. Instead, I asked, “To be accepted into the Clerisy, wouldn’t I need to have passed the evaluation?”
He gazed at me a moment longer; then a condescending, almost bitter smile tugged at his mouth. “The sisters warned me that you might deliberately try to fail. The true test wasn’t your ability to read the relics. It was whether you were strong enough to resist mine.” My eyes went to his ring. “A relic of Saint Liliane,” he explained, with another brief, unpleasant smile. “It binds a Fourth Order spirit called a penitent, which grants me the power to draw truth from the lips of the unwilling, among… among other things.” Briskly, he tightened the satchel’s buckles and turned to leave. “Fortunately, the matter isn’t up to you, and the Clerisy must be alerted as quickly as possible. I will have the sisters collect your belongings. We leave for Bonsaint tonight.”
“No.” I watched him pause with his hand on the doorknob. “If I’m able to resist your relic, you can’t force me to tell the truth. How will you prove to anyone that I passed?”
He had gone very still. When he answered, he spoke quietly and with deadly calm. “It would be my word against yours. I think you’ll find that my word is worth a great deal.”
“In that case,” I said, “I suppose it would be embarrassing if you brought me all the way to Bonsaint, only for the Clerisy to discover that I’m completely mad.”
Slowly, he turned. “The sisters will confirm your soundness of mind. In writing, if necessary.”
“Not if it’s a new development. Everyone already knows there’s something wrong with me. It wouldn’t be hard to pretend that the shock of confronting an ashgrim during your evaluation was the final straw.” I lifted my eyes to meet his gaze. “Alas, it seems that the reminder of my past simply proved too much.”
I wondered how long it had been since someone had last defied him. He flung the case aside and took several great strides toward me, his eyes like poison. I thought he might strike me. Then he visibly mastered himself.
“I take no pleasure in this,” he said, “but you leave me without a choice. Know that this is for your own good, child,” and he clasped his hand over his ring.
At first I felt nothing. And then I gasped. A crushing pressure gripped my heart, my lungs. After a dazed moment I realized it wasn’t a physical force but an emotional one, a despairing, ruinous guilt. I wanted to collapse to the floor in misery, to weep and beg the priest for forgiveness, even as I knew I was undeserving of redemption—undeserving even of the Lady’s mercy.
The penitent.
I clenched my teeth. I had resisted his relic before, and I could do it again. If he wanted me to crawl on the ground and repent, I would do the opposite. Painfully, I stood, fighting against every joint; and then I lifted my head to meet his eyes.
The relic’s influence evaporated. He stumbled a step back, grasping at the desk for balance. He was panting, regarding me with a look I couldn’t interpret, a lock of golden hair fallen loose over his forehead.
There came a loud pounding on the door. Before either of us could react, it swung open, flooding the room with daylight. The person who stood on the threshold wasn’t Sister Lucinde, but rather a terrified-looking young page, clutching a folded missive.
“Confessor Leander,” he stammered. “Urgent news, Your Grace. Possessed soldiers have been sighted in Roischal. Your aid is requested—”
The priest recovered enough to yank the parchment from the page’s hands. He unfolded the letter and scanned its contents, then clapped it shut again, as though whatever he’d read had stung him.
I had never heard of Clerisy soldiers succumbing to possession. The priest’s face had gone bloodless white, but not with surprise, or even shock; he looked furious at the news. He breathed in and out, staring straight ahead.
“I am not finished with you,” he said to me. He ran trembling fingers through his hair to put it back in order. Then, in a swirl of black robes, he stalked out the door.
THREE
None of the sisters said anything to me, but they had to know I’d done something, even if they didn’t know what. I kept my head down for a few miserable days, dazed with lack of sleep and dreading going back to the dormitory.
Marguerite had a wealthy aunt in Chantclere who sent her letters and drawings of the city’s latest fashions, or at least used to—the letters had eventually slowed and then stopped without explanation. For years, she’d kept them tacked to the wall above her bed so she could look at them every night. I returned to our room after the evaluation to discover that she had torn them all down. Standing in the pile of crumpled parchment, she had looked at me with accusatory red-rimmed eyes and declared, “I would rather die than spend the rest of my life in Naimes.”