“To calm or inflame?” Ōbhin asked. “The crowd’s like a nest of fulminator beetles. The wrong word, and fire will erupt.”
“The high refractor is a man of peace,” said Miguil. “He follows the Seven Virtues. The king has to understand there are limits to his power. Hopefully, he’ll see reason.”
Most have trouble seeing anything but their own ambition, Ōbhin thought, glancing down at his black-gloved hand.
As they passed the square, the roars dwindled. The streets became almost abandoned. The carriage picked up speed, the hoofs drumming to a staccato trot as they preceded into the heart of the district. He was glad to leave it behind.
“Is there another way to leave the city?” Ōbhin asked.
Miguil gave a slow nod. “Longer.”
“Safer.”
*
A stout wall surrounded the Hospital of the Prism’s Grace.
A surge of excitement rushed through Avena as she peered out the coach’s window. The streets here were quieter than the flood of boisterous men plunging into St. Jettay’s Square. Avena had never been one to pay attention to local politics, more concerned on immediate importance: caring for Dualayn and his wife, helping the sick, and staying busy by focusing on the present.
However, it wasn’t just caring for the sick that had her excited now. She hadn’t seen Daughter Deffona in weeks and weeks. It was sometime last year, she thought. Late winter.
Deffona was her closest friend so it pained Avena to only see her so rarely. Though they both lived in Kash, if nominally for Avena, the hour trip into the city took too much time out of her already busy day. Deffona, too, had her duties, so Avena treasured these trips.
She watched the wall of the hospital slide past. The structure rising above it was long, two stories. A warehouse donated a century past to the Daughters of Patience by a merchant concerned about the gleam of his soul. The hospital took in all the sick it could. They turned no one back. They couldn’t afford the best care but did what they could with their resources.
Dualayn donated his skills to assist them.
The rear gate of the hospital, located on the western side, loomed ahead. It was a loading dock where teamsters once upon a time had brought their wagons to haul goods across Stoytin Isle, the largest island of Arngelsh, or from its various cities, hamlets, villages, and towns. It must have bustled because it held space for up to five wagons at a time.
Miguil turned the horses into the gate, the carriage wheels clattering over the cobblestones as it pulled into the loading yard. A daughter waited in her bright-yellow habit, a white wimple wrapped tight about her head and neck, leaving only her face exposed. A veil, matching her habit, draped down to her shoulders and spilled down her back.
“Deffona!” Avena shouted with girlish delight.
Dualayn let out a long-suffering sigh. “Decorum, Avena.”
She ignored him as Deffona rushed forward, her prism flashing in the sunlight as it dangled from her belt. A smile dominated her round face. Though she had heavy bags beneath her eyes, she appeared bright and energetic.
“Avena!” Deffona stopped before the carriage.
Avena wrenched open the door and leaped down the moment the vehicle halted, not waiting for her promised to assist her. She landed on heeled boots, keeping her balance with skill. Since her daily practice with Ōbhin and the other guards, she’d become more aware of her feet. How she placed them, moved them. When she could do it without thought, Ōbhin would start to teach her how to really fight.
Avena swept her friend up in a hug, her dark skirts pressing into the Daughter of Patience’s habit. For a moment, both girls were giggling and speaking together, their enthusiastic words blending like the noisy chirp of a flock of birds.
They both broke off. “You first!” Deffona said.
“No, no, you,” Avena chided.
“You’re the one who left Kash.” Deffona’s eyes were wide. “You came back with a Tethyrian guard?”
“Qothian,” said Avena quickly. “He’s no ‘depraved lowlander,’ as Ōbhin puts it.”
“Ōbhin.” Deffona leaned in. “He’s a handsome man.”
“Compared to my Miguil?”
Deffona laughed in a manner wholly inappropriate for a young woman who’d sworn vows of chastity. “True, Miguil is a gorgeous man. How do you keep the other maids and cooks away from him?”
“I’m learning to fight,” she said. Strapped beneath her skirt and petticoats she’d concealed a binder. She could feel the leather belt pinning it to her calf. “So they better not flash their jewels at my promised.”
“Fighting?” gasped Deffona. “What happened on your trip?”
Avena’s stomach squirmed as she remembered some of the more harrowing parts. “We were attacked by bandits.” She gave a sanitized version of events in hurried whispers as Dualayn dismounted and Smiles backed up the wagon to one of the loading docks where a large door could open. Dualayn always took a few of the sickest patients back to his lab. Cases beyond the Daughters to care for. “I decided I need to learn a few things,” Avena finished. “It’s dangerous beyond Kash.”
“Daughter Deffona!” a voice snapped.
Deffona stiffened, her face paling.
Avena’s mood soured as Eldest Daughter Anglia marched over, Refractor Charlis at her side. The priest wore the rainbow robe marking him a high-ranking member of the Church. His stole draped over his neck and dangling almost to his feet was the pure snow of Honesty, the virtue he espoused over others. It was Eldest Daughter Anglia who ruined Avena’s joy. The older woman, dressed identically to Deffona, ran the hospital.
“Why are you here gossiping in the yard when you have duties to attend?”
“I am greeting our guests, Eldest,” Deffona said. She gave a stiff bow. “I had finished cleaning the surgery when I noticed their approach out the window.”
“Yes, greeting,” said the eldest, eyes
