We entered a dining room already half full of women. After going through the chow line to collect my breakfast—an unappetizing bowl of mush—I found an empty seat. My stomach almost revolted at the pulpy smell as I tried a mouthful. A gritty cold paste coated my tongue and tasted like a wad of wet parchment. Yuck. I pushed the bowl away.
The others at my table watched me in amusement as they shoveled the mush into their mouths. I scanned the faces of those around me, searching for Melina. The ages of the women ranged from sixteen to fifty years old. Some met my gaze, while others quickly looked away. And a few kept their attention fixed on their bowls of mush.
All wore the brown robes and most had dark stains down by their knees. Their long hair had either been braided, pulled back into a bun, or hung loose. No one had short hair. And no Melina, either. Did we eat in shifts? Or were there more dining rooms? Based on the size of this place, I guessed it had plenty of room for everyone to eat at one time.
Guards patrolled around the edges of the tables with their reed sticks in hand. I followed the others’ example and didn’t make eye contact with them, but I kept track of their locations. So it wasn’t unexpected when one man stopped next to me. However, the sharp line of pain across my shoulders surprised a yelp from me.
“Eat,” he said, pointing to my bowl with his weapon.
“I’m not—” Another sting landed on my upper arm.
“Eat.”
I pulled the bowl toward me and took a bite. The disgusting texture hadn’t improved.
“More.” He remained by my side until I choked the rest down.
After we finished, we lined up to use the privy before heading to the prayer room. I paused at the threshold, amazed by the immense square room. Penitents streamed in from multiple entrances and formed long rows facing the same direction. Well over two thousand people. Pushed from behind, I followed the woman in front of me until a guard yanked me from the line.
“New penitents stand in the front until they learn how to pray.” He escorted me to the front row.
I stood next to a young woman who flinched any time one of the guards came close to her. Nothing was between us and the stone wall. I’d expected an altar or a religious artifact.
Once the shuffling noise of bare feet on stone stopped, a priestess arrived in a silky robe that flowed around her as she moved. She reached the front and gazed at us.
“You are filthy sinners who do not deserve the creator’s forgiveness. Get on your knees and beg for it,” she ordered.
Everyone knelt. The collective thump echoed off the walls. I quickly complied, joining them.
The priestess spread her arms wide and raised them. “Look upon the creator’s glory and pray for forgiveness.”
The skittish girl next to me craned her neck back and stared up. So did the others. I copied them. Far above, the sunlight struck a beautiful square stained-glass window. The intricate design showed a progression of pictures, and I guessed it must be the story of the creator. The monastery’s boxy tiers framed the window. Each upper tier smaller than the one below it. Like being inside a wedding cake.
Believing there would be more orders, I glanced back at the front. The priestess had disappeared and a guard stood in her place.
He strode over to me. “Keep your gaze heavenward while you pray. This will be your only warning.” He touched the reed hanging from his belt.
I returned to contemplating the stained glass window. It had enough detail to keep my interest for a while. However, my neck soon protested the strain caused by the angle. I bent my head to rub out the kink. Big mistake.
Thwack. The reed cut across my cheek and brought tears to my eyes. The guard raised his arm, pointing up. I gazed at the window again. It didn’t take long for the muscles in my neck to cramp and I had to decide between that pain and being whipped by his reed. Enduring as long as possible, I tried to keep still, but as the day continued without any new orders I had to relieve the strain from time to time, earning another slap with each infraction.
Eventually my legs trembled from kneeling for so long. My lower back ached as if I’d been shoveling stones. And my skin burned with multiple welts.
The angle of sunlight changed at a snail’s pace. Sounds of others getting slapped broke the silence from time to time. The ladies in the front row fared the worst. As the new sinners, we hadn’t built up the endurance to stay in one position for hours.
When the sunlight faded and the colored glass turned black, the priestess returned and allowed us to stand.
Relieved, I straightened. My legs cramped and at first refused to hold my weight. The other penitents in the front row also staggered to their feet. Fresh blood stained many of their robes at knee level, including mine.
We returned to the dining room, ate another bowl of wet parchment, lined up for the privy, and were ordered to our towers. All the while I searched for Melina. And because I hadn’t been paying attention, I’d no idea which way to go to find my tower.
Asking a guard resulted in yet another welt. I had to suppress the desire to zap him and take his reed.
Another penitent took pity on me and gestured for me to follow her. After we’d all been accounted for and the tower doors locked, we were allowed to speak until lights out. Everyone but me and the woman who had spoken to me the night before retreated to the upper levels.
She introduced herself as Fydelia and I told her my name. One of my many concerns disappeared. I’d worried everyone called each other by their number and since I didn’t know Melina’s it’d be impossible to find her.