The Orphan of Saint Olette

Nine

Niamh was waiting for Aoife at their usual spot, outside a quiet little tea room a few streets away from the Cathedral. The place was always empty, and both girls were amazed the place was even still standing, but unbeknownst to them the place was funded by the Church and meant to act as more of a safehouse than anything. It was no great secret that various underground organisations were at work in the city—most cities, in fact—and while the Church chose to publicly condemn anyone affiliated with such an order, those in the know were all too aware of the Church's own ties to the muddy underground network. While most orders were workers' unions, freethinkers, radicals and fanatics, the Church's order was filled with spies. The Church had eyes and ears it could aim towards its flock, but there were those that eluded their direct influence that needed to be followed and monitored. And while its name had been obscured from the outside world for decades now, those at its heart were all too aware of it—the Order of Saint Olette.

The Order of Saint Olette was miles away from the interest of either orphan, however. The Order had its eyes cast on them, purely because they resided at its very heart and were under the patronage of its own founder, the dearly departed Saint Olette, but they were of little concern. Two girls with no dowry and no hope of life outside the Cathedral, the Order presumed they would simply take their vows and remain another two mouths for the Church to feed. Had they paid a little more attention to the two girls, though, they would have realised Aoife's doubts and Niamh's ambitions. Ambitions that were starting to bear fruit. The young Midlander was well on her way to securing a decent husband, despite her absent dowry, and if all went to plan, she was set to marry him as soon as she turned eighteen. She would rather it was sooner than that, but in the eyes of the law she was still under the Church's guardianship until then, and she could do nothing but wait.

The girl with the bronze skin could tell something wasn't right with her friend the second she set eyes on Aoife. For once, instead of badgering the elder girl for answers, Niamh instead kept quiet on the matter, choosing to simply get her friend inside the Cathedral and changed before the Sisters caught them. She wouldn't know it, not yet at least, but Aoife was all too thankful for her silence. She sat through their evening meal and mass like a lifeless porcelain doll, head caught up in the million and one thoughts buzzing around her skull. It wasn't until she was tucked up in her tiny bed, straw filled mattress beginning to sag beneath her, and all the other orphans were sleeping soundly that she finally put stock to her wondering. With careful steps, she made her way to Niamh's bed as quietly as possible, nudging her friend gently to wake her up. She knew Niamh wouldn't mind—they often woke each other in the middle of the night like this.

"This better be important, Aoife," Niamh muttered, eyes only half open as she tried to fully wake herself up. Despite the annoyance in her tone, there was no trace of it in her heart. If Aoife had woken her, it would be for something important. Her friend was too well mannered to wake her, or anyone really, for something trivial.

"I met a boy," Aoife whispered, her only means of explanation for the intrusion.

It was all Niamh needed to coax her into full consciousness. The younger of their pair shot upright, a gleeful smile spreading across her lips as she looked down at her friend, still resting on her knees on the floor as if in prayer.

"Well? Tell me about him!" Niamh said expectantly, motioning for Aoife to join her on the bed but the porcelain doll shook her head.

"Not here."

There were too many eyes and too many ears to speak of such things. In truth, Aoife would have preferred to leave the shadow of the Cathedral to talk about Rin, and her plans, but leaving there at night was not only scandalous but dangerous. There were far too many unsavoury types roaming the city streets at night, even so close to such a holy place, and there had been talk of murders all throughout Aoife's childhood, though luckily none had ever been close enough to the Cathedral to warrant worrying about them. Two defenseless young ladies out at night might just tempt fate, though, and Aoife had no interest in meddling with the Maker's affairs.