Devil in the Rain
by D.G.P. Rector The rain was coming down so thick, Sister Marisha found it impossible not to think of the Great Deluge. Urartu’s Storm season was hard; if it weren’t, the Sisterhood would have no purpose. She and Sister Clarke had drawn the short straw: evening patrol, tasked with wandering the game trails and other places the Sisterhood’s drones couldn’t easily see from the sky. Most of the time, they found nothing. Maybe a Black Tongue, that Clarke would try to spear with her walking stick to add to the night’s supper. On rare occasions, there would be a lost Wildcat, some fool from the far side of the Frontier who’d heard of the riches hidden in Urartu’s soil and come to stake his claim. They’d bandage him as needed, feed him as needed, and send him quickly on his way. On this night, though, something was different. The forest was quiet save the sound of thunder and distant rain. Marisha thought she could smell oil on the wind. “Oughtta head to the road,” Clarke said, pointing w
