Soul of the Fire

Sister Georgia pointed at Ann. "I'm telling you, that's her." The man's eyes turned to Sister Georgia as she went on. "She's just fixed herself up like that to get in here."

The man gestured the other soldiers forward. They brought manacles and. chains. Ann tried to fight them off, to twist away, but the soldier who seized her, unconcerned, gripped her fists and pulled them out for another man to clamp on the manacles.

Two of them forced her to the ground as another man set down an anvil. They held the manacles' ears on the anvil as they hammered pins through the holes and then mushroomed the heads of the pins, locking the manacles on permanently. They made them too tight, so they dug into her flesh, but the men were indifferent to her unintended cry of pain.

Ann knew better than to struggle when it could do no good, so she made herself become still. Without her Han, she was as helpless as a child against these big men. The Sisters mostly cowered as far away as they could get. None watched.

The men hammered closed the open links at the end of the chains. Ann let out a grunt as she was slammed face down in the dirt. More manacles were affixed to her ankles. More chains were attached. Big hands lifted her. A chain around her waist webbed all the rest together.

Ann was not even going to be able to feed herself.

One of the men scratched his thick beard. "And she has no one with her?"

Sisters Georgia and Rochelle shook their heads.

He chuckled. "How'd she get to be the Prelate, if she's that dumb?"

Sister Georgia curtsied without meeting his eyes. "We don't know, sir. But she is."

He shrugged and started to leave, but then halted and cast his gaze over the shivering women on the floor. He pointed a thick finger at a Sister in one of the absurd transparent outfits.

"You."

Sister Theola flinched. She closed her eyes. Ann could see her lips moving in a futile prayer to the Creator.

"Come along," the man commanded.

Trembling, Sister Theola stood. The other three men grinned their approval of their leader's choice as they shoved her out ahead of them.

"You said you wouldn't," Sister Georgia spoke up, if meekly.

"Did I?" the man asked. He showed her a wicked grin. "Changed my mind."

"Let me go in her place," Sister Georgia called out as the man turned to leave.

He turned back. "Well, well. Aren't you the noble one." He seized Sister Georgia's wrist and pulled her after as he went out through the flap. "Since you're so eager, you can come along with her."

After the men left with the two women, the tent fell to terrible silence. None of the Sisters would look at Ann as she sat hobbled in the chains.

"Why?" Ann had spoken the word softly, but it rang though the tent like the huge bell atop the Palace of the Prophets. Several Sisters quailed at the single word. Others wept.

"We know better than to try to escape," Sister Rochelle said at last. "We all tried at first. We truly did, Prelate. Some of us died trying. It was prolonged and horrible.

"His Excellency taught us the futility of trying to escape. Aiding anyone in an attempt to escape is a grave offense. None of us wishes that lesson visited upon us again."

"But you could have been free!"

"We know better," Sister Rochelle said. "We can't be free. We belong to His Excellency."

"As victims at first," Ann said, "but now by choice. I willingly risked my life that you might be free. You were given the option, and you chose to remain slaves rather than reach for freedom.

"Worse, though, you all lied to me. You lied in the cause of evil." The women hid their faces as Ann delivered a withering glare. "And each of you knows what I think of liars-what the Creator thinks of those who lie in the cause of opposing his work."

"But Prelate-" Sister Cherna whined.

"Silence! I've no use for your words. You no longer have any right to have me hear them.

"If I ever get out of these chains, it will be by the aid of those who sincerely serve the Light. You are no better than the Sisters of the Dark. At least they have the honesty to admit their vile master."

Ann fell silent when a man stepped through the opening into the tent.

He was average in height and powerfully built, with massive arms and chest. His fur vest was open, revealing dozens of jewel-studded gold chains hanging from his bull neck. Each thick finger held a ring worthy of a king.

His smooth shaved head reflected points of light from the candles. A fine gold chain ran from a gold ring in his left nostril to another in his left ear. The long braided ends of his mustache hung past his jaw, matching the braid in the center under his lower lip.

His eyes, though, marked the nightmare of the dream walker.

They had no whites to them at all. The murky orbs were clouded over with sullen dusky shapes shifting in a field of inky obscurity, yet Ann had no doubt whatsoever that he was looking right at her.

She couldn't imagine the gaze of the Keeper himself being any worse.

"A visitor, I see." His voice matched his muscle.

"The pig can speak," Ann said. "How fascinating."