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Alessandra stared down at the bowl, as if watching the spoon stirring around hi it. She cleared her throat. "Sorry I hit you."
A
The eyes turned down again. "There is nothing to forgive. I am what I am, and nothing will change it. You've no idea of the things I've done to become a Sister of the Dark." She looked up with a distant expression. "You've no idea of the power I was granted in return. You can't imagine, Prelate."
A
"It was very good, Alessandra. The best meal I've had in… however long I've been here. Weeks, I guess."
Sister Alessandra nodded and rose. "If I'm not busy, I will bring you some tomorrow, then."
"Alessandra." The woman turned back. A
"Why?"
A
"I'm a Sister of the Dark."
A
"I was ordered to."
"Ah. More honesty than I received from the Sisters of the Light, I'm sorry to say." A
Silence reigned inside the tent. Outside, soldiers laughed, drank, and gambled. Smells of meat roasting drifted in. At least A
A
At last, Sister Alessandra sank back down. "I could sit with you a bit."
A
Sister Alessandra helped her sit up, and then the two of them sat in awkward silence while they listened to the camp sounds.
"Jagang's tent," A
"Yes, it is. It's like a palace he sets up each night. I can't say I favor going there, though."
"No, after my encounter with the man, I imagine not. Do you know where we're going?"
The other shook her head. "Here, there, it makes no difference. We are slaves serving His Excellency."
It had the ring of hopelessness to it, and made A
Sister Alessandra looked up with a frown, and A
"Now," A
Sister Alessandra laughed with her.
A
"When the chimes eventually go back to your master in the underworld, then Richard's bond will work again, and I will once again be protected from Jagang's magic, when it returns, too. In all this, that is the one comfort I have knowing I'm safe from Jagang's power entering my mind."
Sister Alessandra sat mute.
"Of course," A
"You don't know when he's there. You feel no different. Except… if he wants you to know."
She smoothed the lap of her dress when A
She looked up, waiting for A
Sister Alessandra gathered up the bowl. "I'd best be going back."
"Thank you for coming, Alessandra. Thank you for the soup. And thank you for sitting with me. It was nice to be with you, again."
Sister Alessandra nodded and ducked out of the tent.
CHAPTER 50
Although it was hardly noticeable, the grassy ground stretching to the horizon before Beata's Dominie Dirtch was slightly higher than the ground to each side of the enormous stone weapon, and so provided firmer footing, especially for horses. After the recent rains the gentle swale to the right was muddy. To the left it wasn't any better. Because of the unique lay of the land, especially after rain, people tended to approach Beata's post, her Dominie Dirtch, more often than others.
There weren't many, but those in the area traveling into Anderith from the grasslands of the wilds were inclined to come to her station first. Beata enjoyed being able to be in charge for a change, to pass judgment on people and say if they could enter. If she thought they looked like people who should not be let in, she sent them, on to a border station, where they could apply for entry with the station guards.
It felt good to be the one in control of important matters, instead of being helpless. Now, she decided things.
It was exciting, too, when travelers came through-something different, a chance to talk to people from afar, or to see their strange dress. There were rarely more than two or three people traveling together. But they looked up to her; she was in charge.
This bright su
"Carine," Beata ordered, "stand ready at the striker."
The Haken woman squinted over at her. "You sure, Sergeant?" Carine had terrible eyesight; she rarely saw anything beyond thirty paces, and these people were off at the horizon.
It was something Beata had never done before, ordering out the striker. At least, not when people approached. They practiced taking it out, of course, but she'd never ordered it out. If she wasn't there, the ones on duty were supposed to take it out if they judged a threat approached, but with Beata there, it was up to her to order it readied. She was in charge. They depended on her.
Since the terrible accident, they'd added an extra bar across the rack where the striker stood, even though they knew it wasn't the striker that had rung the weapon. No one told them to do it; Beata just felt better with another restraint on the striker. It made them feel like they were doing something about the accident, even if they weren't, really.
No one knew why all the Dominie Dirtch had rung.
Beata wiped her sweaty palms on her hips. "I'm sure. Do it."
Other times, when people approached, it was easy enough to tell they were harmless. Traders with a cart, some of the nomadic people of the wilds wanting to trade with the soldiers stationed at the border-Beata never let them through- merchants taking an unusual route for one reason or another, even some special Ander guard troops returning from far patrols.