The Crossing Read Online Free Page A

longboat to the small wooden chapel in the clearing, on the far side of the village huts.
    Maryam searched each woman's features, as she always did when she stepped foot on Onewēre, for the one face she might recognise and call her own. But her memory deceived her—each woman here had something of her birth mother, yet nothing she could pick for sure. The faces spoke of work-worn lives, of hard losses, and even those about her age seemed lacking in light. She tried to read each set of eyes, always alert for fleeting recognition or some sense of ownership, but none shone back.
    As always, the village struck Maryam as chaotic and noisy compared to her own small atoll home, where people and animals numbered no more than thirty combined. Here, hordes of dusty pigs and thin dogs with mangy hides and weeping sores snuffled through the clutter, while scruffy chickens ran amok amidst the eighty or so villagers who lived in this beach settlement. At last year's Judgement, when the Apostles gathered every person on the island to attend, they'd counted over five hundred souls. But few would survive into old age, Maryam knew: sickness and the unrelenting toil of raising crops on barren land took their toll, and many babies died at birth. Still, the Apostles tended to them all, praying over the sick and preparing them to meet with the Lord should their bodies grow too weak to serve.
    Inside the chapel Brother James joined three other white-cladApostles who stood waiting there, lit the candles, and motioned for Maryam to kneel as the villagers filed in behind and took their seats. He began the ceremony with a recitation of the Divine Lesson.
    â€œThe Lord is the creator of Heaven and Earth and all living things,” he intoned, projecting his voice to carry right to the back row, “and His son, the Lamb, shed His Blood to save us from our mortal sins. When Lucifer, the evil one, tempted us into wrongdoing, the Lord sent forth the Tribulation to purge us all.” He smiled now, the gracious bearer of good news. “But we can still be saved, my children, if we look to the Lord and the Lamb and their Apostles, and obey their Rules.”
    Now he placed his hand on Maryam's bowed head. A spark like flint on rock ran through her and she dipped her head even lower to disguise her blush. Unaware, he began to grill her on her understanding of the Apostles’ Rules and, although she never faltered in her answers, her mind itself fled far away. This closeness to a man, it frightened her—despite the fact he'd officiated for the Blessed Sisters for the last six months. Somehow his presence today, and that of the three unknown Apostles at his side, stole all her calm. She could feel her head trembling as she bared her tongue to take the sickly sweet te rara berry from him—the symbolic gift of the Blood of the Lamb.
    When the last of the villagers had also filed up to accept the gift of Blood and returned to their seats, he turned his attention directly back to her. “Will you, Sister Maryam, who are meek and lowly in heart, be gentle and unresisting as our sweet Lamb, all the time surrendering your will to the Holy Fathers who have blessed us with their presence and worked with the Lord to save us from the Tribulation's wrath?”
    Maryam nodded. “I will.” Shakily, she took the hand Brother James now offered her and kissed the holy symbol inscribed upon the ring of bone he wore, her lips accidentally brushing the soft pale hairs on his knuckles as she did so. Again the spark seared through her and a kind of panicked buzzing filled her ears. She dared not look around her, focusing instead on the chapel's sculpture of the Lamb, whose mournful gaze seemed to judge her ignorant and weak.
    But then, thankfully, the ordeal was over and she was escorted outside by all four Apostles, as the villagers threw blood-red bougainvillea blossoms at her feet. Now she stood before the man-made causeway that led out across