Assassin Nuns of Pistachio , livre ebook

MANISHA ANAND

THE ASSASSIN NUNS OF PISTACHIO
Illustrations by Sukanto Debnath
PUFFIN BOOKS
Contents
Prologue
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Follow Penguin
Copyright
PUFFIN BOOKS
THE ASSASSIN NUNS OF PISTACHIO
Manisha Anand grew up in a tiny place in central India that no one ever bothered to put on a map, where she had several imaginary friends and read far too many books. She now lives in a tiny house in London with a lovely Northern chap, their imaginary cat and a growing collection of books that is threatening to take over. She thinks life s turned out quite all right.
For my parents
I had a fabulous childhood, so here s a book about nuns who love swords and cake. I think it s a fair swap.
Prologue
It was a bright and sunny afternoon as the Assassin Nuns of Pistachio headed back up to their mountaintop abbey after yet another successful mission. They clambered up the mountain, single file, wearing an assortment of armour and weapons that they were slowly removing to reveal simple black and white robes held in place with brown braided belts.
That was an excellent day s work, sisters! the Mother Superior said cheerfully, putting her sword back into its sheath and tucking a stray lock of grey hair into her wimple. Absolutely amazing. The sunlight glinted off her chain mail as she beamed at the other nuns. That s the nine hundred and fifty-fifth problem we ve solved since we ve been here, she continued proudly. And today was yet another wonderful example of teamwork and-
Well, maybe not completely wonderful, Sister Gilbertine said slowly, taking her elbow guards off and putting them into a bag. We did initially blow up the wrong house when Sister Portia gave the order to fire. She pulled her gloves off one at a time and stuffed them in, holding the bag under one arm as she zipped it shut.
I didn t mean to! Sister Portia said as she hurried to keep up with the others. I thought it was the right one, but my eyes aren t as good as they used to be. Regular everyday buildings and evil headquarters look the same to me now. She took her glasses off and shook her head at them ruefully. I think there s something wrong with my glasses.
There s nothing wrong with your glasses, Sister Gilbertine said firmly. I think we re all just getting a little too old for this.
But it all turned out fine in the end, Sister Portia persisted, shoving her glasses up the bridge of her nose. That house ended up being one where the pirates of Wolf Rock held their mid-month plotting sessions, so we did manage to prevent a lot of high seas plundering.
We were just lucky this time, Sister Gilbertine said, shaking her head. Maybe we should hold off on any more attacks until we re sure we won t be making any more mistakes.
But I like blowing things up, Sister Portia said sadly, looking down at the spare sticks of dynamite in her pocket. It s ever so much fun!
A lot of fun, Sister Mildew piped in as she kicked her shin guards off.
Maybe Sister Gilbertine is right, sighed the Mother Superior, reaching down to pick up a stray piece of armour as it rolled past her. Maybe we re not as young as we used to be. I didn t want to say anything while we were in the middle of a swordfight, but I m starting to find my weapon a bit too heavy to wield sometimes.
My eyes aren t quite the same either, Sister Regina said, stopping to squint down her shotgun. I m sure I saw something stuck inside here and now it won t come out. She blew into the barrel of the gun and grimaced as a cloud of dust and gunpowder blew out. Ugh, she said, brushing flecks of dirt off her face.
Sister Regina, would you kindly be more careful with your firearm? The Mother Superior peered over at her, concerned. We don t want another little accident like last week.
I wasn t really going to shoot old Mrs Hastings, Sister Regina retorted indignantly, tucking her weapon into her belt. I meant to point my umbrella at her, not my gun. It s an easy enough mistake to make.
Sister Gilbertine frowned. I m not sure it s that easy a mis-
I think my hearing s starting to go a little funny, Sister Kiki said thoughtfully. When the Mother Superior yelled Attack! earlier, I thought she was saying Snack! and got distracted looking for my bag of fruit. She pulled an apple out of her pocket and wiped it down her sleeve before taking a hearty bite out of it. I was awfully confused when everyone started charging.
The Most Reverend Mother up north did say they had replacements in mind for when we were ready to leave, the Mother Superior said reluctantly. A whole set of new nuns who can take over and continue the work we re doing here.
It s just my glasses, Sister Portia said half-heartedly. I m sure they just don t work any more, it s all fine. The nuns continued on their way in a pensive silence, with Sister Regina ambling along at the rear, still curiously peering down the barrel of her shotgun.
Have you ever thought about what you re going to go after you retire? Sister Kiki asked as they got to the top of the mountain. I think I d like to live somewhere near a beach.
I m moving to a quiet little place where nothing ever happens, Sister Portia said. Somewhere small and insignificant that has no crime and no trouble whatsoever.
Oh, I m settling in a city, the Mother Superior said firmly. Everything bad seems to happen in small towns. I want a nice, big sprawling city where no one knows my name and where they have the police to take care of their problems. She smiled wistfully into the distance. I would love to finish reading a book without being interrupted by bandits driving through the town and putting everyone s life in peril.
Retiring? Who s retiring? Sister Mildew looked around sharply.
We re all retiring, Sister Regina replied patiently. We re getting too old.
Nonsense, Sister Mildew said, wrapping her arms around her sword. I m never leaving.
But you wandered away in the middle of the fight today to catch a butterfly, Sister Regina persisted, as Sister Mildew ignored her and marched onwards to the abbey. You forgot we were fighting!
It was a good fight, though, wasn t it? Sister Kiki smiled at the others. A burning building full of cutlass-wielding buccaneers. I think it s been my favourite so far.
Really? Sister Regina laughed. My favourite was definitely the time the band of marauders set up camp outside town and tried to steal Farmer Askew s sheep. Remember how we had to climb up to the bell tower and shoot them without injuring the livestock? She patted her quiver of arrows affectionately. All twelve of those nasty thieves knocked down and not a scratch on a single lamb.
Oh, that was nothing, Sister Gilbertine waved her hand dismissively. The battle against the League of Unfriendly Ninjas in the cornfield was surely one of our finest moments. Besides, we ended up accidentally harvesting most of the crop that day with all the swords flying about and Farmer Crinkleberry was so pleased.
The nuns stood outside the front gate, looking through the iron bars at their abbey. I can t believe we ve been here for forty years, Sister Portia said softly. I do hope the next set of nuns who come here love this job as much as we do.
I think the new nun will stay on to lead the others, the Mother Superior looked thoughtfully at the abbey. Although I ve noticed that she always seems to find an excuse to remain at the abbey when it s time to go out and fight.
She told me the other day that she finds dealing with danger uncomfortable, Sister Kiki announced.
Danger? Sister Portia scowled. I laugh in the face of danger! She waved her sword in the air, narrowly missing Sister Gilbertine s head.
Sister Portia! Sister Gilbertine cried, ducking just in time.
Oh, I m awfully sorry, Sister Portia said, putting her sword away. I didn t see you there. I told you there was something wrong with my glasses.
How are they going to pick our replacements, anyway? Sister Kiki asked curiously. It s quite a special sort of job we do here. It s not for everyone.
I m never leaving, Sister Mildew repeated stubbornly.
I think they use forms, the Mother Superior said vaguely, scratching her chin. Lots of research and official forms. It s an organized way of getting things done.
I filled out a form when they gave me these glasses, Sister Portia said, tucking the offending article into her pocket as she unlatched the gate and headed down the gravel path to the front door. I filled out a form nice and clear, and look how that turned out. She turned to glance at the other nuns as she pulled the house keys out of her pocket. It didn t turn out very well at all.
1
This story starts, like any good story does, far, far away and in a tiny town you ve never heard of before.
Named affectionately for the surrounding mountains that were covered in trees of a most peculiar shade of green, the little town of Pistachio sat nestled away from the noise and clamour of the rest of the world, perfectly content with itself. The people were friendly, peaceful and enjoyed a good cup of tea while waiting for their crops to grow, and the place was quaint and beautiful, much like a picture postcard. It was the sort of town where nothing much ever happened, but which was quite sleepily satisfied with its lack of excitement.
While Pistachio itself wasn t much of a tourist destination, it was well known for its wonderful produce. Traders made their way here every month for the local market day, their trucks filled with crates of exotic vegetables and unpronounceable delicacies to swap for the locals wonderful cornbread, ripe cheese and strawberry preserves. Every year, during the town s Summer and Winter Festivals, market day was extra special, with competitions ranging from growing the shiniest apple to knitting the most elaborate jumper, along with plenty of chocolate fountains, b