Hope and Red Read Online Free PDF Page B

cleaned their rooms, they complained to Hurlo, sometimes even that their rooms were too clean. If she spooned food onto their trays at mealtime, they complained to Hurlo, even if it was that she had put too much on their plates.
    For other brothers, hell was the sudden presence of a female in their midst. When she drifted past in the baggy, hemmed old black monk robe that hung down to her ankles, silent and pale as a wraith, her eyes lost in the shadow of her hood, Hurlo could not have even said that she was female. Yet, somehow, these brothers seemed unable to focus on even the simplest tasks when she was in the room.
    The Book of Storms said that a man’s hell told a great deal about him. So, too, did his reaction to that suffering. Hurlo found it interesting that while some complained about Hope, and others ignored her, still others tried to befriend the tiny blond agent of their suffering. But after a few attempts at flattery or gifts of sweets, those well-meaning brothers faltered under her unfathomable blue gaze, and slunk away.
    After a few days of observation, Hurlo’s attention drifted back to his studies and meditation. So he didn’t notice at first when yet another reaction began to surface among his brothers. Cruelty.
    *  *  *
    It had been a week since Bleak Hope had entered the Vinchen monastery. She would not say she was happy. She was not sure she would ever be able to say that again. But she was comfortable. She had a warm place to sleep and three meals a day.
    She didn’t really understand what the Vinchen brothers did. They meditated, they read, and they exercised. Every evening just before dinner, they gathered in the temple for prayer. None of those activities had been popular in her village. In many ways, this life among the quiet monks was even more unfamiliar to her than those raucous few days aboard Captain Toa’s ship.
    She understood her work, though. Small rooms that needed to be kept neat, plain food that needed to be served, simple clothes that needed to be washed and mended. She took no pleasure in the work, but there was a certain peace to getting lost in the monotony of it. She treasured that peace, because the rest of the time, her thoughts were weighted with death and a dark hunger for revenge. Night was the worst time. She lay on her straw mat in the kitchen, and the thoughts pressed down on her until she could barely breathe. When sleep finally came, it was restless and full of nightmares.
    “You there. Peasant girl.”
    Hope stopped. She had been walking back to the kitchen from cleaning the outhouse. She turned and saw Crunta leaning in the doorway of the building where the brothers slept. Crunta was one of the younger brothers, about thirteen, and still in training. When Hurlo had first given her the list of tasks, he had mentioned that most of her chores would be for the older brothers. That the younger ones must perform chores for themselves. So she was surprised that Crunta was calling to her.
    “Me?” she asked.
    “Yes, you, stupid,” he said, and waved her over.
    Not sure how to handle the situation, she went over to him.
    “Come in.” He turned and went inside.
    Hope followed him. The inside of the building was all one room. The smooth wooden floors were lined with neatly spaced straw sleeping mats and small, cylindrical pillows. Hope watched as Crunta pulled his black monk robe off. Underneath he wore a small undergarment that left his upper body and most of his legs bare. His body was lean and tightly muscled with almost no hair on his chest.
    He balled up his robe and shoved it into her arms. “Wash this and bring it back to me right away.”
    Hope was sure the younger brothers were supposed to do their own washing, but she was afraid to say so. “Yes, brother.”
    His hand flew out and smacked the side of her face. “I’m not your brother. Call me master.”
    Bleak Hope stared up at him, a dark rage spreading through her body. She imagined him screaming in