Richard Ford - Herald of the Storm

Kaira could now see Daedla waiting for her at the temple door. The feeling of elation she had permitted herself suddenly disappeared like a feather on the wind.

‘Greetings, Kaira,’ said the stooped priestess.

Kaira was quick to notice Daedla had left out her ceremonial title. It was not to be returned to her after all.

‘Daedla,’ Kaira acknowledged with a nod.

‘The Matron Mother awaits you.’

Daedla turned and entered the temple, and Kaira followed.

As they made their way through the corridors and anterooms, Kaira realised she had not missed this place. She had grown used to the city streets of Steelhaven, and despite its scum and its filth, had felt a freedom she’d never experienced here. Her birthplace felt cold, sterile and unlived in. Did she even belong in the Temple of Autumn any more?

The Matron Mother was waiting in her chamber, her head, as always, bowed over her desk, feather quill scratching at a piece of vellum parchment.

Kaira walked forward and stood to attention. It seemed the proper thing to do.

When the Matron Mother had finished she placed her quill in its pot and sprinkled a fine cloud of pounce over the script. Then she looked up, her features inscrutable.

Kaira waited. There was no indignity that could be worse than had already been inflicted.

‘Please, sit,’ said the Matron Mother, gesturing to the rigid wooden chair opposite her own.

As Kaira eased herself into the seat, she felt oppressed by the place — the rigidity, the discipline, the weight of duty. Out in the city, even with the importance of her mission affecting her every action, Kaira had never felt such pressure. Only in this place, within these walls, did she feel this way … like a child.

‘Your mission,’ said the Matron Mother, reclining in her seat. ‘It was a success?’

Kaira found it curious that she would ask such a question. By now she must know the outcome. Buttercup would have told her of the Guild’s fury, of the slavers’ massacre, of the freed slaves. What need for such a question?

‘You know it was not,’ Kaira replied, in no mood for games. ‘I failed. The Guild will by now know I was a spy. And even if they don’t suspect me as an agent of the Temple of Autumn, they will still wish me dead after what I did at the docks.’

The Matron Mother nodded. ‘Of course, but was it a success?’

Kaira felt anger rising; she had not returned to be mocked, to be scorned by this old woman. She almost stood to rail in anger at the ceiling, but she managed to hold the fury in.

‘I saved scores of people,’ she said, not trying to hide her annoyance. ‘But for my actions they would have been condemned to lives in bondage. Families would have been split asunder. Children would have been …’

Kaira stopped. She didn’t want to go any further; the thought of what might have happened to those innocents overwhelmed her.

Besides, she realised, she had raised her voice in the presence of the Matron Mother. Even though she was no longer a Shieldmaiden, this shamed her into silence.

The Matron Mother gave her an appraising look. Then she nodded. ‘So it was indeed a success.’

‘What?’ Kaira struggled to understand the Matron Mother’s reaction. ‘That was not my mission. My mission was to infiltrate the Guild and eliminate its leaders. I failed in that.’

‘But you succeeded elsewhere. As you say, scores were freed from bondage. The wicked were punished for their sins. You have acted as the spear hand of Vorena, and for that you must be rewarded.’

‘I don’t understand.’

The Matron Mother smiled. ‘No, my child. But then you do not have to understand. Merely obey.’

Kaira suddenly felt a stab of shame, but that was what this old woman did to her — shamed her, belittled her. All Kaira had ever done was serve this place, all she had ever done was carry out the bidding of others, and how had she been rewarded?

‘You have done well, Kaira Stormfall. And so we shall return things to as they were before your … indiscretion.’

For a moment Kaira thought she had misheard.

‘My standing as a Shieldmaiden?’

‘Will be returned to you with full honours.’

Kaira felt dizzy, nausea almost overwhelming her. For a brief moment, a frivolous moment, Kaira almost accepted, almost laughed with joy — but then she looked around the bare room, its austerity, its cloistered confines.

‘No,’ she said.

The Matron Mother looked confused. ‘What do you mean, “no”?’

It was madness. What was she doing? She was being given everything she wanted, everything she had yearned for, and was now turning her back on it. But something inside told her this was the right thing to do. Something inside knew that deep within this temple beat a corrupted heart. If the High Abbot’s behaviour hadn’t told her that so many days ago, then the Matron Mother’s arrogance certainly did now.

‘I am yours to use no longer.’ Kaira stood, towering over the old woman. ‘I will serve you no longer. I am a servant of Vorena, but I can enact her will without this temple, and without you.’

The Matron Mother shook her head in disbelief. ‘We live to serve,’ she said. ‘ You live to serve, Kaira Stormfall. Would you so readily turn your back on your home … your sisters?’

The feeling of sickness did not dissipate, but Kaira’s head was suddenly clear. She was not turning her back on her sisters, but opening her arms to the city. There was nothing left for her here. She could never go back to how things were.

‘I cannot ignore the plight of this city. Or its people. And that is why I must refuse you.’

With that she turned, not waiting to be dismissed, and made her way out of the temple.

Kaira had thought her name and position were all she’d wanted. Thought they were something to be proud of, but it had all been hollow. She would praise Arlor, be an example of Vorena’s might, but not by serving under this authority. An authority that would use her in its games; make her believe she was deserving of shame.

As she made her way out into the courtyard her sisters still awaited her. Perhaps they had been expecting her back in her armour of office, perhaps they had thought she would be accompanied by the Matron Mother, but when Kaira appeared alone in her drab attire they looked to one another questioningly.

Kaira strode across the courtyard, past the Exalted who took a step towards her, but stopped when Kaira gave her no acknowledgment. Past Samina, who looked on with sorrow at her sister.

She was done with this place, done with its cloistral ways. There were those who needed her in the city, and she would offer them that help on her own terms.

And as she made her way down the wide stone stairs, flanked by the beacon flames on either side, she realised exactly who would need her help first.

He would have taken a ship, would have fled far across the oceans where no one would ever find him, but he had no coin for passage. Of course he’d had plenty of coin right there in his hands. More than he could have ever spent, at least this year, but someone had given all that away. Merrick couldn’t even begin to express how fucking annoying that was, how much that fact vexed him. So instead of trying to find the words he was trying to hide himself inside a bottle of dubious spirits. The barkeep had told him where it was from and what it was called, but Merrick didn’t care. He just wanted to get blind drunk, and from the taste of whatever was in the bottle, that wouldn’t take very long.

Of course, he could have left the city northwards, but where would he have gone? There was a marauding army on its way south, refugees wandering the provinces, and he had no friends anywhere but here. Not that he had many friends here, either.