Sparkling droplets arced through the air. Fountain their source; pool, their destination. Droplets also burst from the splashes of the bream and carp within the water; their aquatic clarity contrasting with the rhythmic coo of the abbey doves.

  Alicé could see a fair-sized party of them near the pool’s edge. Some striding; some sitting. Some preening and three bathing in the water. All in the ultramarine-and-white of May-Ensletia.

  Had to be something when the birds and Sisters wore the same colours. Right down to the edges on the cuff, lower hems, cloaks and wimples. White to echo the doves’ leg feathers and wings.

  Although the young doves weren’t in the spectrum blue with white trim of the pupils and sisters-to-be. They were pearl grey or white - almost like the clouds - and according to Haysarna, one or two kept it into adulthood.

  Not that the same could be said about her hair, Alicé exhaled. No amount of mirror-checking could change the mid and high lights developing amidst the dark brown shades. To which could be added a new bruise on her forehead from a falling book.

  “Oh, to be a dove without a care in the world,” she hummed, leaning on the ebony pew as she watched the doves. “A quiet garden to poke about in; a nice pool to bathe and get refreshments. A cathedral roof to sun-bathe on and the ability to spread my wings and fly away from it all.”

  “Until you see the falling anchor head of an Executioner Falcon,” a familiar voice cooed. “See, then hightail it for the bell tower.”

  Alicé turned in the voice’s direction. “Apologies for thinking aloud Sister - Linnette?”

  “Still a way to go, Alicé,” the speaker replied, also dressed in sister-to-be light blue; but in what could only be a v-necked shirt, trousers and clogs? “This is just the start.”

  “You’re telling me,” Alicé said, trying not to stare. “Did Ileen tell you I was here?”

  “Not since she was celebrating a win against Cryswyth, last night,” Linnette replied. “Although a rematch might pull in more than the contestants,” she added, then looked at something on Alicé’s face. “Could have already started.”

  “It hasn’t,” Alicé said, putting up her hands as Linnette’s may green gaze got telescopic. “I got the wrong side of a book, that’s all.”

  “And came off the worst by the look of it,” Linnette said, getting closer. “I’m not allowed to use my skills outside of the Infirmary yet. But if you come back with me, I can have a look.”

  “Oh no, I know what one of your look’s means, Justine-Linnette,” Alicé said, stepping away. “Too many test potions and pins and needles. And if Ileen didn’t send you, why are you in this neck of the woods?”

  “Subject change isn’t going to work, Miss Sain-Florengal,” Linnette replied, stepping forward. “And I was talking about healing, not herbs.”

  “Weeds from the back of Three Meres Farm, more like. ‘Full of goodness is Silver Thistle brew’ you said. ‘Purges the infirmities’. Purged a lot more than infirmities. Didn’t have an unbroken night’s sleep for a week.”

  “I got the quantities a little - off,” said Linnette. “Needed more mint.”

  “Mint? It’s not Potha-cherri’s finest at the Lakehouse in Minsmene. Throw in some lavender whilst your at it. No, you’d better not, Ensletia knows how many times you’ve had even a scone and they’ve had to drag you out for flying at Ilene again.”

  “Don’t need lavender for that,” said Linnette, face with that - gaze she would get when about to go into ‘battle’.

  “She’s one of your closest friends.”

  “And knows very well what keys to press. Keys shared by yourself.”

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Don’t bring me into this,” Alicé sighed.

  “It was you we were discussing in the first place.”

  “There wasn’t any discussion. You’d have dragged me to the Infirmary if we hadn’t veered onto herbs.”

  “I’ll be dragging you there yet if you don’t calm down. Don’t think I’ll hold back because you need medical attention.”

  “I’d rather eat a basketful of cherry tomatoes,” Alicé whispered, then had to put a hand to her mouth.

  “You’ll need a pint of Silver Thistle brew after I’m finished,” Linnette replied, flowing into a side-on-stance. “Let’s see if that contest all those years ago was a fluke.”

  “You’re supposed to help the sick,” said Alicé, taking a few steps back. “Not beat them to medical attention. And as for the fluke; we didn’t even start. Clareweather broke it up.”

  “Just as I’m about to this,” said a new voice, coupled with a burst of sunlight.

  “Aargh - who’s doing that?” Alicé said, putting her hand in front of her eyes.

  “Make a guess, Bleu de Ciel,” the voice replied, eclipsing most of the sunlight.

  Alicé turned towards the figure, then almost fell to the floor. “Prophetess Clareweather. I didn’t know that it was you.”

  “Didn’t know that it was me,” the Chief Prophetess of May-Ensletia Abbey said, lifting Alicé by the shoulders. “Almost seven years and you can’t recognise my voice?”

  “It was - the light - your Eminence,” Alicé said, legs flailing in the air. “I couldn’t think.”

  “Stopped you both in your tracks though, didn’t it,” the Prophetess continued. “Although why Sister-to-Be Belvarion is here rather than in the Infirmary is a mystery.”

  Seven years. Alicé thought as her ear picked up the sharp intake of breath from Linnette. Seven years of growth and still the dangle-in-the-air speciality of Hilarwen Clareweather had not any less - undignified.

  “Come on,” said Clareweather, letting go of Alicé, and turning to Linnette. “What brings Maria’s latest apple to my table?”

  “S-Sister Maria sent me here on an errand, My Lady,” Linnette said with a shaky courtesy.

  “An errand?” Clareweather repeated, whilst Alicé winced upon touching each of her upper arms. “Here? Things must be bad if Sister Maria requires my help.”

  “Begging your pardon, My Lady, but I was sent to find another.”

  “Alicé? Curiouser and Curiouser….”

  “It’s the Lady Meldannon, Your Grace,” said Linnette, shifting, so that Alicé was between Lady Clareweather and herself.

  “Meldannon?” said Clareweather, sweeping past Alicé and looking down at Linnette like a stork watching a lizard. “What in all Maysine does she want her for? And don’t try to hold anything back as I have ways of finding the bits.”

  Linnette squeaked as Clareweather seemed to get larger with every moment. Alicé could only stare; how many pupils, or sisters, didn’t become yelping-”

  “Babes?”

  “Yes,” Alicé began, then stared at the primrose-haired and delft blue-robed sister standing beside her. “Lady - Meldannon. But-”

  “One of the gifts,” the sister - no - Second Prophetess of May-Ensletia replied, almost as effortless as a breath of air. “As is speaking without words….”

  Alicé’s mouth opened. She’d heard the last two words. Yet her eyes did not catch a single movement on Meldannon’s lips after the word ‘speaking’. Not to mention her eyes that may as well have been heavenly blue sapphires.

  “Don’t look so puzzled?” the Prophetess said aloud. “You would have them too - if you accepted who you are. And I’m sure that I’ve heard the simile ‘richer than the gahnospinels on the vestments of the Archbishop of Minsmene’ regarding your own.”

  “Who - I am - and what I do does not involve becoming another you, Elena,” Alicé whispered. “But the sooner you could - diffuse - the situation between Prophetess Clareweather and Sister-to-Be Belvarion, the better.”

  “It would be remiss of me to not acknowledge a kindred spirit when I see one,” Elena continued, eyes cool and voice cold. “One with the same desire to soar above the clouds….”

  “I’ve got - plans,” said Alicé, glancing at Linnette shrinking towards the ground and Clareweather reaching up towards the ceiling. “None of which involve becoming Tess Number Three.”

  “Oh,” said Elena. “The Scriptorium? Very hideaway.”

  “Think whatever you like,” said Alicé. “But please sort this mess out.”

  “You have a point there,” said Elena, “It’s alright, My Lady, I know what this is about.”

  “Glad that someone’s forthcoming,” Clareweather said, turning away from a quaking Linnette. “Although for Sister Maria to need either of us makes me wonder if sisters need recalling from further afield.”

  “It’s on the question of fulfilment,” said Elena. “Within the Abbey or further afield.”

  “Oh, you’re welcome to that one. Might as well sit in the Prioress’s garden and talk to the mini-mountains for the conservation that wouldn’t pass between Maria and myself. We can resume our conversation later.”

  “Yes, it cannot be discarded.”

  “Are you okay?” Alicé whispered to Linnette, who was getting up from the pew she had sunk into.

  “I’ll be better when I’m back in the Infirmary.”

  “Come to the refectory for lunch if you like. Haysarna suggested it and you can check the - bruises.”

  “I might,” Linnette said with a grin.

  “Come along, Miss Belvarion,” Elena’s voice came from further ahead. “Sister Maria will wonder what has become of us, and Sister-to-be Bleu de Ciel has her own appointment to keep.”

  “Spoil-sport,” Alicé thought as Linnette ran after the speeding form of Elena.

  “Heard that,” two voices rang inside her head.

  Alicé followed Clareweather into her bright office. Prophetesses? They should be called Listen-

  “Heard that too.”

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