Stone of Tears

At last, she tired of the sport and severed herself from the webs, tying them to the girl, locking them on. She settled gently to the ground, and left Pasha with the whole weight of the load to juggle. A simple, if devious, escape: giving the opponent not only the attacking spells to deal with, but dumping her own back on her. Pasha hadn’t been expecting this, and wasn’t able to defend against it; it was not the way she had been taught.

Sweat ran down the novice’s face as she grimaced slightly. The force radiating through the hall made carpets curl up at their corners. Lamps chattered in their brackets. Pasha was getting angry. Her brow wrinkled. With a loud crack that shattered a mirror far off down the hall, she broke the spells. Her slippered feet settled to the ground.

Pasha took a few deep breaths. “I have not seen that done before, Sister. It is not… by the rules.”

She put the rod back under the other’s chin. “Rules are for children’s games. You are no longer a child. When you are a full Sister, you must deal with situations where there are no rules. You must be prepared for that. If you always stick to somebody’s “rules,” you may find yourself at the point of a very sharp knife, held by a hand that doesn’t know about your “rules.’”

Pasha didn’t flinch. “Yes, Sister. Thank you for showing me.”

She smiled inwardly, but kept it off her face. This one had a spine, if a small one. A rare commodity in a novice, even one of the third rank.

She let her eyes take in Pasha again: soft brown hair that just touched her shoulders, big brown eyes, attractive features, lips of the sort men stared at, proud, upright shoulders, and a sweep of curves that even a novice’s dress failed to conceal.

She let the rod trail from Pasha’s chin, down her neck, down into the heart of her exposed cleavage.

Grown into a man.

“And since when, Pasha,” she said in a quiet voice that could have been taken for either threatening, or kind, “have novices been allowed to wear their dresses unbuttoned like this?”

Pasha blushed furiously. “Forgive me, Sister. It’s such a warm night. I was alone… I didn’t think there was anyone about. I just wanted to let the breeze cool my skin.” Her face turned a deeper red. “I sweat so, there. I never meant to offend anyone. I’m so embarrassed. Forgive me.”

Pasha’s hands rushed to the buttons. With the rod, she gently pushed the hands away from the swell of the young woman’s bosom.

“The Creator made you this way. You should not be embarrassed of what He has chosen,” in his wisdom, to bestow upon you. You should never be ashamed, Pasha, of what He has graced you with. Only those of questionable loyalty to the Creator would scorn you for being proud of showing the Maker’s hand in all its magnificence.”

“Why… thank you, Sister. I never looked at it in quite that way.” A frown wrinkled her brow. “What do you mean, “questionable loyalty’?”

She pulled the rod away and lifted an eyebrow. “Those who worship the Nameless One don’t hide in the shadows, my dear. They could be anywhere. Why, even you could be one. Even me.”

Pasha fell to a knee, bowing her head. “Oh, please, Sister,” she implored, “don’t say such a thing of yourself, even in jest. You are a Sister of the Light, and we are in the Palace of the Prophets, safe, I pray, from the whispers of the Nameless One.”

“Safe?” With her rod, she motioned the novice up. After she was on her feet, she gave her a stern look. “Only a fool assumes she is safe, even here. Sisters of the Light are not fools. Even they must always be alert to the dark whispers.”

“Yes, Sister. I will remember.”

“Remember it, any time someone would make you ashamed of how the Creator has formed you. Ask yourself why they blush at seeing the Maker’s hand. Blush, as the Nameless One would.”

“Yes, Sister…Thank you,” she stammered. “You have given me things to think on. I have never thought about the Creator in this way before.”

“He has reasons for the things He does. Is this not true?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when He gives a man a strong back, what does that say?”

“Everyone knows that. He was given the strong back to use. It means the Creator has given him the strong back so that he might work to feed his family. Work to make his way. Work to make the Creator proud. And not waste the Creator’s gift by being lazy.”

She whisked the rod up and down in front of Pasha. “And what do you think the Creator had in mind when he gave you this body?”

“I… don’t know… exactly. That I should use it to… make the Creator proud of His work… in some way?”

She nodded. “You think on it. You think on your reason for being here. Being here at this time. We are all here for a reason. The Sisters of the Light are here for a reason, are they not?”

“Oh, yes, Sister. We are here to teach the ones with the gift, teach them to use it, and guide them so they may not hear the whispers of the Nameless One, that they may hear only the Creator.”

“And how are we able to do that?”