Faith of the Fallen

"What's the matter with you!" Nicci shook the gasping girl. "Don't you know you're crawling with lice?"

"But, but-"

The soap was harsh and as rough as a rasp. The girl squealed as Nicci bent her over and put more muscle into the scouring.

"Do you like having a head full of lice?"

"No-"

"Well, you must! Why else would you have them?"

"Please! I'll try to do better. I'll wash. I promise!"

Nicci remembered how much she hated catching lice from the places her mother sent her. She remembered scrubbing herself, using the harshest soap she could find, only to again be sent off to another place, where she would get infested with the hated things all over again.

When Nicci had scrubbed and dunked a dozen times, she finally dragged the girl to a tub of clean water and swished her head about in it to rinse her off. The girl blinked furiously, trying to clear her eyes of the stinging, soapy water as it streamed down off her face.

Gripping the girl's chin, Nicci peered into her red eyes. "No doubt your clothes are lousy with nits. You're to scrub your clothes every day-underthings, especially-or the lice will just be right back." Nicci squeezed the girl's cheeks until her eyes watered. "You are better than to be filthy with lice! Don't you know that?"

The girl nodded, as best as she could with Nicci's strong fingers holding her face. The big, dark, intelligent eyes, although red from the water and wide with shock, were still filled with that rare sense of wonder.

As painful and frightening as the experience was, this had not dispelled it.

"Burn your bedding. Get new." Given the way these people lived and worked, it seemed a hopeless challenge. "Your whole family must burn their bedding. Wash all their clothes."

The girl nodded her oath.

Task completed, Nicci marched the girl back toward the gathered crowd.

Forcing her along by the studded strap used as a collar, Nicci was unexpectedly struck by a memory.

It was a memory of the first time she had seen Richard.

Nearly every Sister at the Palace of the Prophets had been gathered in the great hall to see the new boy Sister Verna had brought in. Nicci lingered at the mahogany rail, twining around her finger a lace dangling from her bodice, only to pull the lace straight and then to twine it again, when the pair of thick walnut doors opened. The rumbling drone of conversation, sprinkled with bright laughter, trailed to an expectant hush as the group, led by Sister Phoebe, marched into the chamber, past the white columns topped by gold capitals, and in under the huge vaulted dome.

The birth of gifted boys was rare, and a cause of expectant delight when they were discovered and finally brought to live at the palace. A grand banquet was planned for that evening. Most of the Sisters, dressed in their finery, stood on the floor below, eager to meet the new boy. Nicci remained near the center of the lower balcony. She didn't care whether she met him or not.

It came as something of a shock to see how Sister Verna had aged on her journey. Such journeys typically lasted at most a year; this one, beyond the great barrier to the New World, had taken nearly twenty. Events beyond the barrier being uncertain, Verna had apparently been sent off on her mission too far in advance.

Life at the Palace of the Prophets was as long as it was serene. No one at the Palace of the Prophets appeared to have aged at all in so trifling a span of time as two decades, but away from the spell that enveloped the palace, Verna had. Verna, probably close to one hundred and sixty years old, had to be at least twenty years younger than Nicci; yet she now looked twice Nicci's age. People outside the palace aged at the normal rate, of course, but to see it happen so rapidly to a Sister. .

As the roaring applause thundered on in the huge room, many of the Sisters wept over the momentous occasion. Nicci yawned. Sister Phoebe held up her hand until the room fell silent.

"Sisters." Phoebe's voice trembled. "Please welcome Sister Verna home."

She finally had to raise a hand to again bring the clamor of applause to a halt.

When the room had quieted, she said, "And may I present our newest student, our newest child of the Creator, our newest charge." She turned and held an arm out in introduction, wiggling her fingers, urging the apparently timid boy forward as she went on. "Please welcome Richard Cypher to the Palace of the Prophets."

Several of the women stepped back out of the way as he strode forward.

Nicci's eyes widened; her back straightened. It was not a young boy. He was grown into a man.

The crowd, despite their shock, clapped and cheered with the warmth of their welcome. Nicci didn't hear it. Her attention was riveted by those gray eyes of his. He was introduced to some of the nearby Sisters. The novice assigned to him, Pasha, was brought before him and tried to speak to him.