Grey Sister (Book of the Ancestor, #2)

by Mark Lawrence

Enough minutes to constitute hours, weeks, decades. Never to be read.

Now more than ever she felt the irony that the Rock of Faith, named for the foundations of their religion, lay rotten with voids and secret ways, permeable and ever-changing.

“Also,” Inquisitor Pelter spoke into the pause, “a sold child belongs to the Church in a way that a wanted child cannot.”

“It is surprising,” said Zole behind them. “That surrounded by unbelievers on all sides, and even among your own peasantry, so much effort is spent on hunting down and torturing those who agree with your faith almost entirely.”

Even if the thing was as big as a bear and had teeth like swords she needed to see where Hessa died. With the shipheart so close Hessa might have worked miracles. There could be a clue. Missed by the nuns but waiting for one who was thread-bound to her. And with thread-work you start at the beginning.

Repetitive, much?

“I don’t understand.” The man shook his head, looking at his knees. “In my uncle’s village the old men leave the first cut of the harvest for the corn god. I heard they have a stone church to the Hope down in Whittle. Why are they arresting people here? The Ancestor’s own children? For what? They took Master Root. Said he was reciting the Ancestor prayer wrong. And the rector, they took him too, because he said this place was here when the tribes came. It’s madness . . .”

The devil would have had advice, and she probably would have opted to do the opposite.