AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Sister Verna drew up her shawl. “What happens when you try to approach?”
Sisters Dulcinia and Maren looked away. Sister Philippa held Sister Verna’s gaze. “It is not pleasant. Not pleasant at all.”
Sister Verna wasn’t surprised by that. It surprised her only that no one had been hurt. “It borders on criminal behavior to ignite a light shield and leave it where some innocent could accidentally walk into it.”
“Not likely,” Sister Leoma said. “Not considering where it is, anyway. The cleaning staff found it. They were wise enough to stay away.”
It was ominous in the extreme that none of the Sisters had been able to break the shield to get to the ring, as Sister Verna was positive they had attempted. It would be a significant accomplishment if one of them could demonstrate that she had the power to recover the Prelate’s ring, on her own.
She glanced over at Sister Leoma. “Have you tried linking webs, to drain the shield?”
Sister Leoma shook her head. “We decided that first, each would be given a chance, on the theory that it might be a shield keyed to an individual Sister. We don’t know what could possibly be the purpose of that, but if true, and it is a defensive shield, then linking and trying to drain its power could very well destroy what is being protected. You’re the only one who hasn’t tried.” She let out a tired sigh. “We even brought Sister Simona up here.”
Sister Verna lowered her voice in the sudden silence. “Is she any better?”
Sister Leoma stared up at the painting of the Creator. “She still hears voices, and last night, while we were up on the hill, had another of her deranged dreams.”
“Go and see if you can retrieve the ring so we can get back to the selection process,” Sister Dulcinia said. She shot a forbidding look at Sister Philippa and Leoma, as if to say there had been enough talking. Sister Philippa noted the look without expression or comment. Sister Maren glanced impatiently to the soft glow under which sat the object of their desire.
Sister Leoma gestured with a gnarled hand toward the white column. “Verna, dear, bring us the ring, if you are able. We have palace business to get back to. If you are not able, well then, we will be forced to use a link to drain the shield and attempt to retrieve the Prelate’s ring. Go now, child.”
Sister Verna took a deep breath, deciding not to make an issue of being called “child” by another Sister, a peer, and started off across the polished floor, her footfalls echoing around the vast room the only sound except the muted, distant beat of drums. Sister Leoma was an elder, she supposed, and due a certain amount of deference. She glanced up toward the balconies and saw her friends, Sisters Amelia, Phoebe, and Janet, offering her weak smiles. Sister Verna set her jaw and marched onward.
She couldn’t imagine what the Prelate’s ring would be doing under such a dangerous shield, a shield of light. Something was wrong. Her breath quickened at the thought that it might be the doing of a Sister of the Dark. One of them might have keyed the shield to her, suspecting she knew too much. Her pace slowed a bit. If that were true, and it was a trick to eliminate her, she very well could be incinerated without so much as a hint of warning.
Only the sound of her footsteps echoed in her ears as she felt the outer bounds of the web. She could see the glint off the gold ring. Muscles tense, she expected something unpleasant, as the others had obviously experienced, but she felt only warmth, like a summer sun. Slowly, step by step, she proceeded, but it grew no hotter.
By the few, small gasps she heard, she knew that none of the others had gotten this far. She also knew that that didn’t mean she would be able to go all the way, or to escape. Through the soft white glow, she could see the Sisters beyond, their eyes wide as they watched.
And then, as if in the hazy light of a dream, she was standing before the pedestal. The light at the center of the shield had become bright enough that she couldn’t make out the faces of those beyond.
The Prelate’s gold ring sat on a folded piece of parchment sealed closed with red wax imprinted with the sunburst pattern from the ring. Writing was partially visible underneath the ring. Sliding the ring to the side, she turned the parchment with one finger so she could read it.
If you wish to escape this web alive, put the ring on the third finger of your left hand, kiss it, then break the seal and read my words inside to the other Sisters, it said, and was signed, Prelate Annalina Aldurren.
Sister Verna stared at the words. They seemed to stare back, waiting. She didn’t know what to do. She recognized the Prelate’s handwriting all too well, but it could be a forgery.
If it was a Dark Sister’s trick, especially one with a flare for the dramatic, following the instructions could kill her. If it wasn’t, then not following them could. She stood frozen a moment, trying to come up with alternatives. None would come to mind.
Sister Verna reached out and picked up the ring. Gasps of surprise came from the darkness beyond. She turned the ring over in her fingers, inspecting the sunburst pattern and the wear of age. It was warm to the touch, as if heated from an inner source. It looked like the Prelate’s ring, and a feeling in her gut told her it was. She glanced down at the words on the parchment again.
If you wish to escape this web alive, put the ring on the third finger of your left hand, kiss it, then break the seal and read my words inside to the other Sisters. —Prelate Annalina Aldurren.
Sister Verna, her breath coming shallow and labored, slipped the ring onto the third finger of her left hand. She brought the hand to her lips and kissed the ring as she said a silent prayer to the Creator seeking guidance and strength. She flinched as a beam shot from the figure of the Creator above her, bathing her in a bright shaft of light. The air about her fairly hummed. There were short, clipped screams and squeals from the Sisters around the room, but in the light as she was, she could not see them.
Sister Verna lifted the parchment in her trembling fingers. The air hummed more intensely. She wanted to run, but broke the wax seal instead. The shaft of light coming from the image of the Creator above intensified to blinding brilliance.
Sister Verna unfolded the parchment and looked up, though she couldn’t see the faces around her. “Upon penalty of death, I am directed to read this letter.”
No one made a sound, so she looked down at the neatly scribed words. “It says, ‘Know all those assembled, and those not here, my last command.’”
Sister Verna paused and swallow as Sisters gasped.
“‘These are trying times, and the palace can ill afford a protracted battle to succeed me. I will not allow it. I am exercising my prerogative as Prelate, as set down in palace canon, to name my successor. She stands before you, wearing the ring of her office. The Sister reading this is now Prelate. The Sisters of the Light will obey her. All will obey her.
“‘The spell I have left over the ring was drawn with the aid and guidance of the Creator himself. Defy my bidding at your peril.
“‘To the new Prelate, you are charged to serve and protect the Palace of the Prophets and all it stands for. May the Light cradle and guide you always.
“‘In my own hand, before I pass from this life into the gentle hands of the Creator—Prelate Annalina Aldurren.’”
With a boom that shook the ground beneath her feet, the beam of light, and the glow around her, extinguished.
Verna Sauventreen let the hand holding the letter fall to her side as she looked up into the circle of stunned faces. The vast hall filled with a soft rustle as the Sisters of the Light began going to a knee and bowing their heads to their new prelate.
“This can’t be.” she whispered to herself.
As she shuffled across the polished floor, she let the letter slip from her fingers. Sisters cautiously scurried in behind to snatch it up, to read for themselves the last words of Prelate Annalina Aldurren.
The four Sisters came to their feet as she approached. Sister Maren’s fine, sandy hair framed an ashen face. Sister Dulcinia’s blue eyes were wide, and
her face red. Sister Philippa’s usually placid expression was now a picture of consternation.
Sister Leoma’s wrinkled cheeks spread in a kindly smile. “You will be in need of advice and guidance, Sis… Prelate.” Her smile was spoiled by the way she swallowed involuntarily. “We will be available to help in any way we can. Please consider us at your disposal. We are here to serve—”
“Thank you,” Verna said in a weak voice as she started out again, her feet seeming to move of their own accord.
Warren waited outside. She pushed the doors closed and stood in a daze before the young, blond-headed wizard. Warren went to a knee in a deep bow.
“Prelate.” He glanced up with a grin. “I was listening at the door,” he explained.
“Don’t call me that.” Her own voice sounded hollow to her.
“Why not? It’s who you are, now.” His grin grew. “This is—”
She turned and started away, her mind at last beginning to function again. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
Verna crossed her lips with a finger and over her shoulder shot him a scowl that snapped his mouth shut. Warren scurried to catch up with her as she marched off. Once beside her, he lengthened his stride to keep pace as she proceeded out of the Palace of the Prophets. Whenever he looked as if he might open his mouth again, she crossed her lips with the finger. He at last sighed, stuffed his hands in the opposite sleeves of his robes, and set his gaze ahead as he strode along beside her.
Novices and young men outside the palace, who had heard the riot of bells proclaiming the new prelate named, saw the ring and bowed. Verna kept her eyes ahead as she passed them. The guards on the bridge over the River Kern bowed as she crossed.
