Woven Steel

CHAPTER 3: Benevolent Misbehavior

On the first night Kay ever wove, some five years ago, both moons had been nearly full. The Olympia ring hung pale and iridescent between them. Lake Baelway had been calm under their light. On the shore, the neat little town was quiet, with only a few flickering candleflames to be seen. Further up the mountain, the abbey of Baelway was even quieter. All the sisters of the woven shield, and all the sisters to be, had been sleeping soundly. All but two, for this was a prime night for fishing.

Kay and Iona were out on an eighteen-foot dory that rode gently on the undulating swell. They had anchored near the center of the lake, nearly a mile from each shore, on top of the entrance to the sunken temple. Rainbow trout were known to congregate there, especially on two-moon nights. The boat was not, properly speaking, theirs. Properly speaking, they didn't own anything. Even the gray initiate's robes on their backs were property of the Church of Raelle. 

They had both served on the boat, however, at different times. They had been loaned out by the Abbey to help Blue Wanda, the craft's true owner. Under the same arrangement, they been loaned out to many of the town's other tradespeople as part of their education. They had gutted fish, mended nets, and brought in the daily catch. They had both loved Wanda dearly, and had taken to fishing easily. She was a kindly woman, middle-aged and stout but still immensely strong. She taught all her charges from the Abbey with infinite and steady patience. Patience was no doubt a requirement for anyone who depended on the fickle whims of Lake Baelway for their livelihood. A patience punctuated by small country witticisms and crinkly wind-burnt smiles.

So, both had been greatly concerned when Blue Wanda turned up at the Abbey's infirmary, staggering on her feet and carrying a raging fever with her. It turned out not be the screaming sickness that had swept the lower valleys over the last year, as initially feared, but merely a common spring fever. In all likelihood, Wanda would be back on her feet after a week of care by the Abbey's attentive and skilled healers. She would miss a week of fishing though, including a prime two-moon night, and this could not, of course, be allowed. Not by Kay and Iona, not after everything Blue Wanda had done for them. How astonished she would be, when she returned home recovered to find a cellar stocked with fat trout!

So, a plan had been hatched. Benevolent misbehavior, such as this, was the only kind they ever engaged in. They did so frequently and were quite good at it. Just last  week, for example when Initiate Jara had been sent to bed without supper on extremely trumped up charges. They had managed to successfully liberate two apples and half a cheese from the kitchens and get them under Jara's pillow without anyone being the wiser.

Just before midnight, two suits of leather practice armor took their places in their respective beds. They escaped via their usual route, scaling the rough stone wall of the north tower. They then climbed the little stony ridge near the abbey and dropped down into the creek bed on the other side, following it down to the edge of the town's wharf. They found Wanda's dory, cast it off, set the sail, and glided over to the middle of the deep channel. This was accomplished with only a small amount of wrangling about the correct way to do it.

They were competing, as they competed in all things. The score was currently tied at one fish apiece. Though Kay's was slightly longer, Iona had caught hers first. They were standing on opposite rails of the boat, with quarter-inch hemp handlines over the side. Iona had a view of the sleepy town and the abbey above, while Kay gazed upon the wild hilly country on the far side of the lake, covered in forests of pine and cedar.

Iona had been the first to get a second bite. She had seen her float bob once, then twice, and let out a small excited gasp. She braced one foot on the gunnel and pulled, throwing coils of rope behind her as they came in. Kay wrapped her own line around a cleat and turned to watch. Iona felt a few great tugs as the trout fought back. She let it run, just a few yards, making it pay for every inch with pieces of its soul, letting it tire itself, until she felt the resistance slacken. She began to pull again, and soon the line went almost horizontal and they could see the trout just under the surface of the lake, some four fathoms off the starboard bow. All the fight was gone from it now. Iona let out a triumphant whoop.