CHAPTER 3: Permission

Goddesses.

First Daughter Rinnesia groaned and wished she had never, ever felt a calling to become a Daughter of the Goddess. She was now dedicated to a woman obsessed with things that mortals did not believe in. For instance, female warriors, though Rinnesia hadn't the slightest clue why. For almost one and a half months, now, the Mother had appeared in her dreams and reported, "The time has come for women to take a stand. Today, there is someone out there who will change everything. Be waiting for her." As if the idea of "women taking a stand" wasn't terrifying enough, now she had to participate and "wait for her." Wait for who, for the Goddess' sake? Here she was, running a convent and waiting for some girl to come change the world—was the Mother mad?

Rinnesia slammed her fist down on her desk in annoyance, and then winced in realizing she had narrowly missed smashing her porcelain teacup. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly.

"Whenever you're doing something that doesn't seem to be working, stop doing it," she reminded herself aloud, quoting a proverb of the Old Ones. It was one of her favorite sayings. It did not contradict the modern precept "try, try again," but instead simply recommended a break. On the other hand, it did not order her to continue her difficult task later on. She could always just stop worrying and never start up again.

Taking the advice to heart, she decided to forget about it. What came would come, no matter what she did. Instead, she took a sip of tea and excavated from her pile of papers a list of to-dos she had written up that morning. Skimming it for starred subjects, which signified urgent matters, her eyes stopped three-quarters of the way down at the words Trebond and Disart. She smiled. They had to be her two favorite students in the convent, with their perfect comportment in classes. They both did everything impeccably. What was more, one of the Daughters had reported seeing them in the library pouring over books that had curiously come from the section on foreign languages. And although she knew it was as good as treason to say it, Rinnesia took heart in knowing that "women taking a stand" would not—could not—start with these two excellent young ladies. Nothing else troublesome ever did!

Like she did with every lady of their status, the Daughter made plans to reward them. Standing from her chair, she turned to look out the bay window behind her. From there she could see the sundial that stood in the middle of the courtyard: it read just after five in the afternoon. Perfect. In ten minutes, the last class of the day would be finished. The ladies would have ten minutes to wash up after the lesson, and then she would call for Alanna of Trebond and Rowanna of Disart.

---

They had arrived promptly and perfectly, without giggling, whispering or showing the least disrespect. They were both dressed appropriately in the convent's uniform, their hair pinned up in the latest fashion. They stood with their hands clutched behind their backs and heads held high—the "at-attention" stance. There was Alanna, the upbeat first-year with her fiery copper curls and strange purple eyes, and there was Rowanna, the silver-tongued third-year with her smooth brown locks and tenacious brown eyes. Though they seemed the perfect friends, they differed so greatly: the younger so small, the older so tall.

The First Daughter smiled. They had learned so much. "Please be seated," she invited, motioning to the two chairs before her desk.

They curtsied with murmured thanks and obeyed, spreading their skirts carefully so as not to crease them.

"You have both been putting an excellent amount of effort into your classes lately," she informed them regally. "All of your instructors speak highly of you, and your assignments are always turned in completed and on time. Your work is very much appreciated, and I'm sure our country will benefit gratefully from the both of you. In way of thanks, tomorrow, you may both spend the entire afternoon in town."

What an honor. The convent was very strict about flaunting its half-trained ladies around in public without a reasonable excuse, so to be given permission to step beyond the walls surrounding the convent was a dream for many ladies.

Because of this, Lady Rowanna's response came as somewhat of a shock.

"Refuse?" Rinnesia demanded. "Why?"

"Because, we would like to make a request in its place."

The woman didn't respond, but her expression told Rowanna to continue.

"Lady Alanna and I…," she hesitated, and then continued boldly, "Lady Alanna and I wish to be trained in the martial arts."

The First Daughter's blood ran cold. Suddenly she realized she had completely misunderstood the meaning of the girls' efforts. "Oh," she replied faintly. "Oh I see." Rinnesia closed her eyes. How could she not have foreseen something like this? She had watched Alanna ride into the convent without a sidesaddle, glimpsed her hysterical conversation with Maude just after their entrance, and she had arrived a month ago, just after the Goddess' dream messages had started. Suddenly the First Daughter found herself in a horrifying position. Either she denied the girls their wish, therefore disobeying the Mother, or she let them go through with their idea and risked setting Chaos loose into the country. A vile taste filled her mouth, and she swallowed shakily. She either neglected her role as a Daughter of the Goddess, or she slighted her position as the First Daughter of the convent.

She rubbed her temples for a moment, and asked tremulously, "When and where would you learn? Who would teach you?"

"The time is the simplest of matters. The class would begin at five o'clock in the morning and end at six. That would give us a half an hour to wash up before breakfast. Lessons could be held out in the guards' training yards, with their permission. The teacher…." Rowanna licked her lips skeptically and continued a bit more slowly, "The teacher poses more of a problem. We know that there are many commoners out there with amazing skills, and we were wondering if we could, perhaps, enlist the help of the Crooked God-Daughter, because she is on friendly terms with them and might be able to find an instructor for us."

"Ah!" Rinnesia crooked her finger at them, her voice made light with relief. She had found a problem in their plan. "You mean a thief. Not likely. A well thought-out idea, but not likely. Thieves are dangerous and not to be trusted. They'd spend that hour manhandling you more than teaching you. I cannot allow that, and your parents would never agree."

Rowanna and Alanna both looked startled and, this time, Rinnesia caught on straight away to what they were thinking.

"Parental permission is one of the more necessary parts of this plan," she said gently. "Not telling them is out of the question."

"But my lady…."

Rinnesia jumped slightly when she heard this response from Alanna. The girl had hardly murmured a word since their arrival.

"Yes, Trebond?"

"My lady, my father would never agree to such a thing," Alanna told her helplessly. "He's a conservative to the bone—my house is as blue-blooded as Naxen, in the Book of Gold and everything! He'd throw a raging fit—if he reads the letter at all."

"It's the same with my family, my lady, though my father will most surely read the letter. But," Rowanna continued immediately, "is it mandatory to tell our parents everything? Perhaps we could omit a few details and ask for permission to add a new class to our inventories, without specifying the class."

Thank you, Mother: you gave them the minds of Uusoae, Rinnesia thought irritably before pointing out, "Your parents would be expecting you to learn a new subject, though. Are you just going to shower them with punches and kicks the next time you see them and thank them profoundly for letting you do such a thing?"

"My father would deserve it," Alanna said dryly. Suddenly, she gasped. "I have it! Rowanna and I are currently studying Carthaki—that could be our class!"

"Oh, so that's what you're doing in the library! The Daughters and I were most curious about that."

"Yes, yes, Carthaki," Rowanna agreed excitedly. "And we could make our instructor swear not to 'manhandle' us. Even commoners obey oaths."

Rinnesia stared from one eager girl to the other. She hated to admit it, but their undying zest was stirring up an adventurous feeling within her as well. Why shouldn't their plan work? Their parents never had to find out anything. She bit her lip, and then grinned. "You ladies are the queerest I've ever met, and I don't know why I'm going to say this, but I will: if you write the letters, I'll proofread and sign them."

"Really?" Alanna whispered, her eyes glowing with hope.

"I swear it. Now, off with you! It would be a terrible thing if you didn't manage to finish your assignments for tomorrow, right after this conversation!"

"Yes, First Daughter Rinnesia," they chorused, hopping to their feet and curtsying politely, though it was obvious by the light skip in their steps as they walked out the door that they were having trouble concealing their excitement. The moment the door shut, Rinnesia heard them both burst into shrieks of ecstatic laughter, congratulating one another as they hurried off to their rooms.

The woman shook her head, smiling. She had to be breaking a number of laws in doing this, but, for some reason, she felt no regret.

---

One day that June, Daughter Marinstha held Rowanna and Alanna back in class. They exchanged glances, biting their lips. Marinstha was the Daughter of the Crooked God. Perhaps she had an update on their fighting classes.

Indeed, as soon as the last of the other students had filed out of the classroom, she announced, "First Daughter Rinnesia said to tell you she received your families' responses and they both expect you two to be fluent in Carthaki when you next meet them. She also told me of your interesting request. Girls, you have to understand: commoners are not all like Shang masters. Of those that are—I mean to say, of those that would make adequate instructors—many of them don't want to teach. They are professionals that have no wish whatsoever to publicize their secrets. This is an extremely difficult task that you have asked me to carry out. Are you positive you want to do this?" she demanded, catching the eye of first one girl, then the other.

Rowanna and Alanna did not need to glance at each other to know what they wanted. They had sworn long ago that they would do whatever necessary to acquire a teacher.

Daughter Marinstha nodded coolly. "Very well. I'll alert you when I have news. You're dismissed."

The two girls thanked her, curtsied, and left. Although they knew they had to run for their next class, they did not speed up once out of sight of Daughter Marinstha.

"Rowanna?" Alanna asked slowly.

"Yes?"

"What are you in this for? My father couldn't care less about what I do, but your family—your family loves you."

Rowanna smiled sadly down at her. "It's simpler than it looks, Alanna. Like you, I've watched boys goof off all my life—just, unlike you, I've had women there to keep me from doing the same. You've just kind of been an unleashing of the bad, true me. What's more, the day before you arrived, I received a letter from Grandmother Sebila. She—I—Alanna, you know Ralon of Malven, the boy my cousin Raoul writes to me about, the one he hates so much?"

Alanna nodded—just listening to Rowanna's letters made her want to punch the disparaging bully's face in—and wondered what this was leading to.

"Well, I—my grandmother—well, she wrote to me to say that… that…."

"That?" Alanna probed curiously.

"Alanna, I'm betrothed."

Alanna froze and glanced up at her friend. To her shock, a tear slipped down the older girl's cheek.

"All I want to do is have a little fun before—before—" Rowanna's voice broke off, and Alanna knew she couldn't continue.

Hesitantly and carefully, as she had never comforted another girl before, Alanna laid a tender hand on her friend's back. Rowanna turned and buried her face in Alanna's shoulder, sobbing furiously.