The Fickle Winds of Autumn

3. Amber's Room

The door to the chamber creaked slowly as Kira eased it open, but the distant sound of the disruption in the corridor covered the slight noise as she stepped in and closed it behind her. She let out a huge sigh of relief as the fluttering palpitations of her heart began to quiet and steady, and her blood started to circulate properly once more, safe from the booming terror of Sister Amelia.

She walked across the small whitewashed room and sat down on the low bed, which creaked beneath her slight weight. By the modest light of the two candles, glowing brightly in the alcoves at either side of the room, she looked down on the pallid face of her drowsy friend, who was tucked deep beneath the blankets.

"Are you feeling any better?" asked Kira.

"Well, a little," replied Amber; her eyes, watery and reddened by illness, contrasted with her pale skin. "But should you be here? I mean, isn't it today?"

"Yes, the others are already lined up ready to go; but I just had to check on you first."

"Don't get into any trouble on my account; you know how Sister Amelia gets."

"Yes, only too well! You don't need to remind me!"

"Wait a minute," said Amber as her nose twitched with curiosity: "I can smell pikelets!"

"Oh yes! I almost forgot!" said Kira, reaching down into the warmth of her pocket and handing the prized breakfast food to her friend.

Kira smiled to herself as the tempting aroma of the honeyed pancake seemed to perk Amber up considerably.

"But I thought these were your favourites?"

"You know they are! But, I couldn't sleep very well last night and I wasn't really feeling that hungry this morning; my tummy just wouldn't settle. I don't know, perhaps it's the all excitement of finally getting out of this place and seeing some of the real world. So I thought you might enjoy it as you couldn't get up to go into breakfast yourself today. But there can't be too much wrong with you if you can still smell pikelets!"

"No, I'm definitely a bit better: but not well enough to travel - not like you, lucky thing! But how did you get it past Sister Amelia? If she'd caught you with food outside the refectory... I can't think what she would have done."

"Well, I couldn't just leave you here all alone and hungry, while I go off to see the world."

"Yes, typical of my luck!" Amber complained through a croaky, strained voice. "All those classes and study for nothing! I finally get a chance to do something useful and take part in an actual ceremony out in the real world, and I'm too ill to go! I'm so jealous!"

"Mmm, sorry about that."

"Still, I'm pleased it at least gives one of us an opportunity to see the outside. And I want a full report when you get back."

Kira searched her feelings, but wasn't sure how to reply. She was excited and knew she definitely wanted to go, rather than be stuck behind the same boring walls she had lived in all her life. But she had never known anything or anywhere else; and now, as the departure time grew ever closer, her stomach churned with nervousness at the overwhelming prospect of having to leave behind all she had ever known, and the safe, dependable boundaries of the sacred institution.

And she would have to leave Amber behind too.

She thought of all the time they had spent together. Closer than any sisters could ever be.

How they had relied on each others' company over the years, growing up in the cold isolation of the gloomy nunnery. Each making the other's dull monotonous life seem somehow more bearable and worthwhile; the simple games of trying to jump on each other's dancing candle-lit shadows. They had been inseparable since she could remember, and Kira could not imagine how empty and miserable her life would have been without such a friend.

They had even grown to be a little alike too: they were both the same age and of similar height; but above all, their chestnut hair colour was an almost exact match; so that when they were younger, they had often huddled up against the cold, stone winter of the convent, entangling their brown locks together, pretending to be baby squirrels with their tails tied in an unfathomable knot.

From across the courtyard, the sonorous chantry bell rang out its bass chime.

Lost in her thoughts, Kira was startled by its solemn tone. The friends glanced nervously at each other. They both knew what this meant - the West Doors were about to open to allow the girls out.

"It's time. You'd better go." said Amber quietly.

Kira looked around the sparse white room and suddenly felt a chill of fear and sadness; worried that she might never see this familiar place, or her dear friend, again.

A deep anxiety welled up from the uncertain depths of her knotted stomach.

"Yes, I should go... it's just... I feel so...so...I don't know!" said Kira, exasperated by her inability to describe her own feelings. "I just seem certain that something will go wrong: I'll mess it up somehow - I always do. I never mean to, but somehow..."

Her features creased with worry and self doubt as she gazed at her friend. She half moved, knowing she should go, but her reluctant body seemed weighted to the bed and refused to stand.

Amber looked her full in the face. "Courage!" she said resolutely.

"Yes, you're right - courage!" replied Kira. "But all the same, I still wish you were coming with me. I mean, I'm not clever or good at lessons like you..."

"It's just the nerves of leaving the convent for the first time. Don't worry." said Amber, squeezing her hand.

Kira felt the warm reassurance of Amber's friendship pressing into her palm. But as she tried to remain calm and take comfort from her friend's support, the room around her suddenly lost its focus and began to swim before her eyes. She felt smaller and more distant, as a chilly draught, which arrived seemingly from nowhere, teased the candles, causing them to flicker low and gutter for a brief moment, filling the dim room with deep liquid shadows. Just for a dazzling instant, the red weakness in Amber's eyes seemed to clear as they sparked with a deep intensity, which Kira had never noticed before, briefly catching and reflecting the quivering yellow glow of the candles.

"No harm will come to you: I feel sure of it." Amber said with a calm, clear conviction, in a voice which caught Kira by surprise; a voice which seemed to echo from another time and place; remote and obscure.

Kira jumped and recoiled slightly. She tried to pull her hand away in a moment of confused alarm. But then, just as suddenly as it had started, the room pulled back sharply into focus and returned to a tranquil stability; its familiar unadorned walls were once again reassuring and whitewashed and reliable.

The dizzying flicker of the candles steadied, and her friend, who had momentarily seemed so distant and strange, was there once again lying weakly; feeble and ill in her bed, just as she had been before.

Kira blinked and looked around her. What could have caused such an unusual, shifting sensation? Perhaps her nervous anxiety at leaving the convent had been much stronger than she realised? Perhaps her own powerfully over-active imagination - another personal fault the nuns had repeatedly warned her about - had been enough to confuse and overwhelm her for a brief moment?

And then of course, her lack of sleep from the night before won't have helped.

And also, she had just skipped breakfast.

Back outside, the empty silence of the dark corridors told Kira that the other girls had already gone without her, forcing her to move quickly through the echoing stone cloisters, as she held her arms outstretched to the walls and allowed the memory of her fingertips to guide her along the familiar passageways, toward the outer doors.

She paused to grab her cloak and hood which hung in the porch.

"Well, this is it!" she thought to herself, and then looked down to reassure her apprehensive, fluttering stomach. "Courage!" she whispered.

She took a final steadying breath and, for the first time in her life, headed nervously across the threshold of the doors.