The Nun and the Holy Water

Most of the clear holy water struck the pale face beneath the black-robed woman's hood and suddenly gave off a faint golden light. The glow was not dazzling. It was as if sunlight had been pressed into every drop. Against the black-robed woman's pale cheeks, the corners of her eyes, and her lips it made a faint sizzling, and a wisp of illusory black smoke rose swiftly. The black-robed woman, silent in every movement until now, finally let out a scream she could not hold back. She jerked half a step backward and clapped her left hand over the side of her face the holy water had hit. Her hood slipped with the motion, revealing a jaw lit by the golden light and a strand of black hair clinging to the side of her neck. Holy water clung to the edge of the hood and soaked into the black cloth, yet it neither glowed gold nor left a scorch, as if it truly were nothing but ordinary clear water. At the same moment, a few drops of the clear liquid splashed onto the back of Xialuote's hand and her cuff. Her heart clenched. She thought she was about to feel the same burning pain, but the drops only rolled slowly down her fair skin. Aside from a slight chill, there was nothing unusual. So it was not strong acid, and not simply poison either... This was a liquid made by Extraordinary power, meant specifically to disperse sinister power. It would not harm an ordinary person? But do I really count as ordinary... The worry Xialuote had carried ever since accepting this bottle of holy water had not come to pass after all, and her mind eased a little. At the same time, the fight on the other side of the storeroom briefly stalled. Luosaier, Gelin, and the gray-clad assailant disguised as a beggar were all drawn by the sudden scream from this side and by the black smoke that had strangely vanished even as it rose. They stared toward Xialuote in shock. But Luosaier recovered faster than the other two. He seized the instant the gray-clad beggar's attention slipped, snatched up a small wooden box of movable type at his feet, and hurled it. The box flipped through the air. Heavy metal type clattered out of it, forcing the gray-clad beggar to dodge aside, while Gelin at once pulled his gaze back and, matching the move, swung the ink-stained iron rod and pressed in from the other side. No words were needed. Moving as one, both of them understood that they must not let this astonishingly fast assailant escape the limits of the narrow space. The gray-clad beggar gave a low growl. The blackened short blade flashed again and again as he tried to break past Luosaier, but Luosaier forced him back through the narrow gap between a thick stack of paper and the wooden rack. Gelin seemed at last to have found the rhythm. He never met the man head-on in a contest of speed. He only swung in to interfere when the other was about to close on Luosaier, turning that heavy iron ink-stirring rod into an obstacle that was none too steady, yet troublesome enough. Xialuote had time for only that one glance before the black-robed woman, closing in again, pulled her attention back. The holy water had indeed taken effect. Smoke kept seeping from between the fingers over the woman's face, as if real strong acid were eating into her. One eye was shut tight. A dark yellow fluid ran from its corner, and even her breathing carried a sound like air leaking through a gap. But she did not fall. Instead she slowly lowered her left hand, revealing half a face marked with charring and shriveling, as if flames had licked across it. With the one eye that remained she stared at Xialuote, and anger showed on a face that had lacked expression before. This holy water isn't working the way I imagined. It didn't drop her outright. It only enraged her completely... Xialuote grumbled inwardly and kept backing away until her shoulder struck a wooden rack and she heard the metal movable type behind her knocking together inside the boxes. She was not far from the door, but the black-robed woman was blocking that way. Behind her, Luosaier and Gelin were still held by the gray-clad beggar. They were barely holding him off through their wordless cooperation, and were even less able to break free at once to save her. And all she had left in her hand was the real perfume bottle. The black-robed woman seemed to see her despair. Her steps lightened again. Her body dipped slightly, and like a shadow ready to spring she closed the distance between them little by little. Xialuote's throat tightened. She reached toward the wooden rack beside her, searching for anything that might buy time. Suddenly a white figure appeared by the storeroom door: a frail woman in a white cloak. The hood hid her golden hair and most of her face, leaving only the soft line of her jaw. From the familiar figure and the gentle smile at the corner of her mouth, Xialuote knew her at once. It was Weiyefu, who had heard her confession in the cathedral and given her the holy water. Sensing Xialuote's eager gaze pass beyond her, the black-robed woman checked, then whipped her head around. A slender dagger slid from her right sleeve into her hand. Before she could do anything more, Weiyefu closed in, raised one slender arm, and punched her in the side. Already burned by the holy water, the woman's movements had slowed noticeably, and turning in haste left her no time to dodge. As the blow landed, a flash of golden light seemed to pass between them. In the next instant the black-robed woman was as if struck by an invisible heavy hammer. Her body twisted at a nearly perpendicular angle. Before she could even scream she toppled sideways and crashed hard into a wooden rack. Then, in a soft voice, Weiyefu spoke a short, forceful string of syllables. Xialuote could only barely tell that it was a language wholly unlike the Yindisi language, the Fusake language, and the Luen language she knew. Drop after drop of liquid, glowing gold as if sunlight were refracting inside it, appeared out of nothing above the black-robed woman's head and fell like rain. The sizzle of burning returned. Several wisps of charred black smoke curled upward. The black-robed woman, who had still meant to struggle up and slip into the surrounding shadows, screamed again, a cry that filled the storeroom. She clutched her head in both hands and curled into a ball, trying to hide from the holy water that purified evil and filth. But the liquid found every opening. It soaked through the hood, passed through the gloves, and gradually covered her whole body. She collapsed limply to the floor, and soon only faint breathing and twitches remained. Almost at the same moment, the gray-clad beggar on the other side sensed the change. He dropped low. The blackened short blade swept swiftly through the air and drove Luosaier and Gelin back. Then he planted a foot on a wooden box beside him, leapt, caught the narrow windowsill high above with one palm, and slipped out as if he had no weight at all. "He got away!" Gelin shouted before he could think. Weiyefu glanced at the high window and said calmly, "Someone outside will deal with him." The words had barely left her when several dull impacts sounded beyond the window, followed by a wooden box overturning and someone's cry of pain. For a moment the storeroom was quiet. Luosaier gripped half a wooden ruler, his chest heaving rapidly beneath the slit in his coat. Gelin still held the ink-stirring rod in both hands, his face pale. He clearly had not yet come back to himself from the fight for their lives. They looked at Xialuote and Weiyefu, then at the black-robed woman curled motionless on the floor, their eyes full of shock. Weiyefu drew back her hood, revealing long golden hair, emerald eyes, and the Sun Holy Emblem glittering at her collar. She gave them no chance to ask and spoke first. "I belong to the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun. Miss Xialuote Suolun previously sought help at Saint Luoke Cathedral. The Church judged that those who attacked her might still have accomplices, and so arranged a hidden watch and protection." As she spoke she glanced at the black-robed woman on the floor, and a slight smile touched her mouth. "As it turns out, our judgment was not wrong." Luosaier opened his mouth as if to ask something, then closed it again, looking thoughtful. As for Gelin Lande'er beside him, only a blank look remained on his face. He was only a merchant's son. Comfortable as his family was, he had never truly met with being attacked, or with being rescued. Until now his head had been full of the printing plant his family could not sell and the chance to make money that had suddenly appeared. In the turn of an eye, a beggar with a sharp blade, a woman in a black robe, and a beautiful woman who called herself one of the clergy had appeared in the plant one after another. It was plainly beyond anything he understood. "You go out first," Weiyefu went on. "Leave this place to me." Xialuote knew she was sending away the other two, who had never come into contact with the world of mysticism or with Extraordinary power. She nodded at once, steadied herself on a wooden rack, and walked out ahead of them. ………… When the three of them returned to the workshop where the huge printing press stood, the place was already in confusion. The workers who had been waiting in the corner heard the noise and tried to come closer, but a man in a gold-trimmed brown coat stopped them a short way off. He was not tall, and his expression was mild, yet not one of the workers dared step past him. They could only crane their necks and peer over, alarmed and uncertain. Gelin stood in the middle of the workshop, looking at his printing plant and his workers as if he still could not understand how things had come to this. Luosaier looked toward Xialuote. In his gaze there was surprise, and doubt, and more than either, a kind of concern and searching. Meeting his eyes, Xialuote chose her words and explained, "After that night, because I was worried and afraid, I went to Saint Luoke Cathedral, listened to a sermon, and made confession. "The Church believed there might still be others behind Aidian, and that they might move against me again. So they told me to keep to my original plans as much as I could and not act too strangely. They would protect me from the shadows and strike when those people showed an opening. "Of course, today's attack really was beyond what I expected. I never thought they would be so bold as to try to kidnap me at the printing plant while workers were still here... Fortunately, Miss Weiyefu arrived in time and saved everyone. "Praise the Sun!" Her tone rose from low to bright, and that last word of praise came from the heart. As for the bottle of holy water that had looked like strong acid, and why frail Weiyefu could knock the black-robed woman down with one punch, Xialuote felt she could not explain. She simply said nothing, lest she carelessly let slip knowledge ordinary people were not meant to know and harm them instead. Clever people are the best at filling in the rest themselves. Maybe he'll even convince himself... Watching Luosaier look thoughtful, and at last even nod slowly, Xialuote muttered to herself, not without a touch of spite. A moment later Weiyefu came out of the storeroom. The man who had been keeping watch outside had gone in at some unnoticed moment. He now followed behind her with the unconscious black-robed woman over his shoulder. Her hood hung limp to one side. Black hair fell and covered most of her face. Only the side burned by the holy water showed now and then between the strands, and the watching workers looked horrified. "She will be taken back to the Church for interrogation. We will confirm whether she still has accomplices," Weiyefu said, looking at Xialuote, her expression and tone exactly as they had been the first time they met. "Until then we will go on protecting you, so nothing unexpected happens." I don't feel this will end so simply either. Maybe this attack was bait as well, and the real move in reserve still hasn't appeared... Xialuote nodded to show she agreed. Weiyefu paused, then added, "Come to the cathedral again this weekend." It sounded like an ordinary notice, but in Xialuote's ears it was nothing less than heavenly music. She remembered what Weiyefu had once said in the confessional. She remembered that the Church had already confirmed she was connected to the eighth sacrificial offering, so that she had been drawn, without choosing it, into an Extraordinary matter. She remembered, too, the golden light that had flared when the bottle of holy water burst across the black-robed woman's face. Her chance had finally come.