Compendium by Alia Luria Page B

younger girls was meticulously plaiting her thick brown hair into a neat braid while an older acolyte stood over her, guiding her hand and nodding, her plump cheeks pursed in concentration. An older man, maybe in his thirties, was seated at the center table with a large tome open in front of him. He frowned as he rubbed his temple absently, his hazel eyes narrowing as he studied the volume then flipped farther along in the book.
    Mia was surprised that no one had shaken her awake and commanded that she ready herself for the day. However, she was still a complete stranger here, and the other acolytes had their own business. They each wore a variation of the same general uniform, a taupe robe almost colorless in the dim light, blending into the drab stone background. The robe, wrapped in front of the body and belted at the waist, fell almost to the floor. Beneath that was a pair of flowing pants in the same brown-gray color and cinched at the ankles. Over the robe each acolyte wore a wide swath of fabric that circled the body and was pinned at the shoulder. For most acolytes this sash was nearly the same shade as the robe and pants, although some of them looked orangey in the light of the gourds. A gray metal pin sat at the shoulder atop the sash that held it into place. The designs of the pins varied.
    Mia felt out of place in her white gauzy pants, undershirt, sheer tunic, wide blue-green belt, and cream-colored overshirt, the entire ensemble somewhat grungy from travel and rumpled from sleep. Her clothes provided inadequate warmth in the cold, dank Compound.
    She rubbed her forehead and sighed. She was woefully unprepared for pretty much everything about her current situation. Her stone cubby would remain barren for some time. As she stretched her back gingerly, the fantastically uncomfortable mattress creaked under her legs. Blast it! What she wouldn’t give for one—who was she kidding?— all of those damnable furs they had at home. Father could have at least warned her of the cold.
    She stood and stretched her back and arms again. Almost instantaneously, Cedar appeared at the entrance of the cubby.
    “Good morn,” he said, and smiled cheerfully.
    She returned his friendly demeanor with what she hoped was one of her better scowls. “What’s in these mattresses?” she asked, rubbing her neck. “I feel like I slept on rocks.”
    “Escule beans,” Cedar replied.
    She raised an eyebrow in his direction and squinted.
    “I suppose they’re essentially small rocks,” he continued. “You’ll either acclimate, or you’ll procure an alternate mattress from somewhere. Many acolytes come prepared, and some even have custom-made robes.”
    She shouldn’t have been surprised but was regardless. It was naïve to assume that all acolytes came into service of the Order by indenture, but why would anyone willingly forsake the sun and trees for this cave?
    “Haven’t you been paying attention?” Mia asked, her voice laced with sarcasm. “In case you failed to notice, my presence here was entirely unplanned.”
    “What happened with the Dominus?” Cedar asked.
    She huffed and stretched her neck again.
    “Well,” he continued, ignoring her unpleasant mood, “the Order provides bedding, obviously, for acolytes, as well as meager but clean robes, basic toiletries, and facilities. It’s actually not a bad arrangement.” He shrugged.
    She sighed but decided against commenting. Complaining to Cedar wouldn’t change her circumstances.
    “I will say,” he said, then paused, as if considering his words. “Brother SainClair definitely has it in for you. I’ve never seen him look at any acolyte the way he was looking at you last night.” He squinted at her appraisingly.
    What are you looking at? “Well, that makes me feel loads better.”
    He laughed and clapped her on the back. She lost her balance and stumbled forward, muttering a curse as she fell. The older acolyte studying at the table turned to glare at them. If