Five days after Misty’s death, Tavi woke early, dressed, and went in the kitchen. Her mother was there, and they had toast and tea. Tavi stood and picked up her school satchel.
“Your teacher isn’t expecting you back until next week,” Mey said.
“I want to go today.”
Mey nodded and took Tavi’s hand. “Just wait until Sall is ready so you’re not walking alone.”
Tavi and Sall soon left. After a few silent minutes, Sall turned toward Tavi. His eyes flicked up to her forehead. “Can I look?” he asked.
“You don’t want to see what I’m feeling right now.”
“I do, Tavi.”
The crazy thing was, she knew he was telling the truth. Sall genuinely wanted to use his gift to sense her emotions so he could comfort her. Tavi shook her head. “I don’t want you to.”
He gave her a gentle smile. “That’s fine.”
They stopped at Narre’s house to pick her up. She and Sall talked, but Tavi didn’t participate in the conversation. She spent the time preparing herself for the stares she expected to receive at school.
Tavi’s classmates did not disappoint. She ignored the looks of pity and tried to act as normal as possible, even sitting with Sall and Narre at lunch, though she would have preferred to be alone. They finished eating and walked to the midwife house.
When it was time for training to start, they approached the fighting mats. Officer Andisis’ eyes widened. “Tavi,” he said, “Good to see you back.” He turned, but not before Tavi saw the moisture in his eyes.
Officer Andisis told them to each find a partner. Tavi turned to a girl who was two years younger and a little larger than her. They began to fight.
Half a minute later, Tavi brought her opponent down, straddled her, and held a fist to her jaw. If her partner had been a real enemy, Tavi would have been pummeling her face. It was a win.
Tavi jumped up. “Again,” she said, holding her hand out to the younger girl to help her up.
The second time Tavi took her partner down, she leaned close and imagined that the face inches away from hers belonged to the man who’d killed Misty. Tavi still couldn’t remember how he looked; her mind filled in the blanks with bleeding eyes and a grimacing mouth full of teeth filed to points. She had the urge to smash the girl’s face in, but she stood up and shook off the thought. “Again.”
On the next takedown, Tavi imagined her opponent to be the skinny woman who’d put Misty to sleep. Then Reba. Ash. Konner. And the murderer, again.
After fifteen minutes, Tavi had won every brief match. Her opponent’s eyes appeared to have widened into permanent saucers. And Tavi felt alive for the first time since her sister’s death.
“Gather up,” Officer Andisis called. “We’re trying something new today. The person you just fought is your partner. Choose another pair to be your opponents. I’m teaching you to fight in teams. Same rules as singles. No magic, no punches to the face, no kicks between the legs.”
As the trainees shuffled themselves into groups, Tavi approached Officer Andisis. “I don’t want to fight in teams,” she said.
“Many fights are not one-on-one.”
Her voice quieted, and she enunciated every syllable. “I don’t want to fight with a partner. I can do this by myself.”
The safety officer’s eyes softened. “Of course you could. But you’ll be better with a partner. Let’s get started.”
Tavi gave a sharp nod, but instead of going back to her partner, she walked directly into the midwife house through the back door. Hopefully her friends thought she was taking a break. She walked all the way through the house, exiting out the front.
Her dress and school satchel were upstairs. Yes, the townspeople might see her walking home, by herself, wearing pants. She hoped they would be sufficiently shocked.
Tavi walked around to the back of her house, swung open the door, and stepped into the kitchen. Her mother was cutting up vegetables, and she stopped for long enough for her eyes to travel up and down, taking in the vision of her pants-clad daughter.
But Mey only gestured toward a bowl and said, “I’ve been meaning to knead that dough for the last couple of hours. I keep getting distracted. Will you please do it for me?”
Tavi looked at the bowl. The towel covering it had been nudged into a dome shape by the yeasty dough within. Breadmaking had been Misty’s responsibility. More than that, it had been her passion. Tavi blinked away the wetness in her eyes, picked up the bowl, and brought it to the bread board.
Two minutes later, she pulled her hands out of the dough and flexed her fingers wide. How had Misty kneaded dough every day without her hands falling off from soreness?
Mey’s soft voice interrupted Tavi’s thoughts. “It’s nice to have someone else here at this time of day.”
The words hit Tavi in the chest. She hadn’t even thought about how hard it must be for her mother to be alone at home. Jevva had already returned to work at the parish house. Ista had a job at the general store in town, having recently graduated from school. Tavi’s brothers, Seph and Jona, still lived at home but worked at a nearby farm. “I’m glad to be here with you, Mama,” Tavi murmured. She grasped the fragrant, elastic dough and continued kneading.
“I don’t mind you coming home early,” Mey said, her knife continuing its rapid chopping as she spoke, “but I need you to tell me why.”
“Officer Andisis wanted us to fight with partners. Two-on-two instead of one-on-one. I didn’t want to.”
“So you walked home alone.” The chopping sound stopped, and Tavi looked up from the dough. Her mother was watching her. “You can’t walk alone, Tavi.”
Tavi sighed. “I know.”
They went back to their tasks. A minute later, Mey said, “You didn’t want to fight with a partner. Couldn’t you have chosen one of your friends?”
Tavi didn’t answer.
“You haven’t wanted to be with them the last few days, have you?” Mey asked.
Tavi picked up the large ball of dough, turning it over and slapping it back onto the bread board. “No,” she said.
“Why?”
Tavi stopped kneading, instead stretching and folding the dough, as she’d often seen Misty do. “I don’t think I should tell you. I think you might be angry.”
Mey laughed a bit, a sound Tavi had found incongruous each time she’d heard it for the past five days. “I can handle it,” Mey said.
So Tavi told her about the agreement the other Golds had made to protect Tavi at any cost, even their own safety. As Tavi spoke, her mother’s chopping slowed, then stopped. Tavi set the dough down and faced her mother.
Mey turned around, and there were tears running down her cheeks. “I’m angry at the man who did this to your sister,” she said. “I’m angry at all the Grays. I’m not afraid to admit, I’m angry at Sava. But when you tell me Misty loved you so much, she committed to give her life for you if necessary . . . oh, Tavi. That doesn’t make me angry. It makes me love Misty even more, which is hard. But good. It’s very, very good. I’m not angry at Misty. Or your friends.”
Tavi’s eyes found the floor. “It wasn’t Misty or my friends I thought you would be angry at. If it weren’t for me—it was because I was there—” She couldn’t get the question out, but her mother knew what she was asking.
Mey crossed to her daughter in one step and gripped Tavi’s shoulders so tightly it hurt. “I’m not angry at you either,” Mey said. “Not even one tiny bit. You did not cause this. Evil people caused this. Not you, Tavi. Not you.”
Tavi tried to swallow, but the sobs rising from her chest were too strong. Her mother wrapped her into warm arms, and they both cried.
When Tavi calmed, she kept her arms around her mother’s waist and her head pressed against her shoulder. “Mama,” Tavi said, “you’re the only one I want to be with right now. But when I’m home, I see Misty, and I hear her, and I smell her. I want to be with you, but I don’t want to be here. I want to fight. It’s the
only thing that feels good. But I don’t want to be with those people in my class. I don’t know what I want, Mama. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just want Misty.” She began to weep again. “I just want Misty.”
“Me too, my sweet girl. Me too.”
Chapter Seven
Every few years, I hear of some group offering private magical training. And by “private,” I mean “costly.” As midwives who teach students of all backgrounds, we should always stand against these plans. Riches corrupt. There are exceptions, but they are rare.
-From Training Sun-Blessed Students by Ellea Kariana
A timid knock sounded at Konner’s study door.
“Come,” Konner barked.
A maid opened the door. “I know you asked not to be disturbed, Mr. Burrell, and I apologize, but I thought you would want—”
“Out with it! The only result of an apology is that your interruption takes twice as long.”
The young woman took two steps back and bumped against the hallway wall. “Councillor Amonel is at the front door, sir.”
Konner sat up straighter. “Well, don’t leave him standing there! Bring him in.”
The maid pulled the door shut so firmly the paintings on either side of it shook. She soon returned with Norbin Amonel in tow. “Shall I bring tea?” she asked.
“No, close the door, and don’t disturb us.” The maid left, and Konner gestured to the chairs in front of him. “Have a seat, Amonel, and tell me why in Kovus you risked coming to my house.”
Councillor Amonel sat. His thin lips turned upward in a permanent grin, and he nodded several times as he searched his pockets. Eventually he found what he was seeking in an inner pocket of his suit jacket. He pulled out a small notebook and placed it on the desk in front of him. “I have located and verified some information I am certain will interest you,” he said, his reedy voice full of excitement.
“Why did you not send a sealed message in our agreed-upon code?”
“Oh!” Amonel laughed, his head bobbing and spectacles bouncing as he did so. “Yes, that’s right; I forgot entirely about our communication plan. I do apologize.”
Konner reined in his temper; the man in front of him was a valuable member of the Grays, even if he was profoundly exasperating. “Next time,” Konner said, “send a message. What did you bring?”
Amonel was unbuttoning and buttoning the cuff of his jacket, and the repetitive action caused Konner to grind his teeth. “This is truly wondrous,” Amonel said. “I had some leisure time yesterday, and I realized it had been at least two months since I had spent time in the Savala Records Hall. It is one of my favorite places, as I may have mentioned to you previously. They keep records of everything, from births to deaths to court cases to—”
“I know what the Records Hall is. What did you find?”
Amonel chuckled. “Oh yes, I occasionally get carried away. As I said, I visited the Records Hall. I requested records of safety officer investigations. Did you know Vellish Elling was a consultant working for Savalan detectives before he was elected to the council?”
Konner’s brow knit. “I thought Councillor Elling was from a small town in eastern Cormina.”
“He is.” Amonel let go of his jacket cuff and began tapping both his index fingers on the desk. “However, as a young adult, he lived in Savala for several years, as do many young men such as he. His scent gift proved helpful in many criminal investigations.”
Konner folded his hands, as if that would cause Amonel to do the same with his own twitchy fingers. “My understanding is that Elling’s scent gift is quite unique. He cannot track living things and therefore cannot find criminals or missing persons. How would his gift be useful to detectives?”
Amonel’s laugh was now a cackle. “Excellent question, my dear banker! Allow me to ask you this. If someone stole coin from your bank, would you not pay well for a tracker with a nose for precious metals?”
“He tracked stolen money?”
“Yes, and silver tea sets, and many other valuable things. And he can scent other things too. He’s led police to stolen artwork by sniffing for the oil paints!”
Konner gritted his teeth. They were getting off-track, if they had indeed been on any track to begin with. Amonel finally folded his hands, but he began circling his thumbs around each other as if they were racing. Konner glared at the man. “In other words, Elling is yet another talented man who has now thrown his life away as a councillor. Why are you here, Amonel?”
“Patience is a virtue, Mr. Burrell.” Amonel had the nerve to wink at Konner. “As I mentioned, I desired to peruse police records.” He held up his notebook and used his thumb to flip through its pages. Repeatedly. “I asked the record-keeper to pull police reports from the last five years. I only had half an hour, so I didn’t go farther back than that.”
Amonel halted his speech and his fingers as if expecting a response, so Konner murmured, “Only five years, I see.” He wasn’t sure if Amonel expected him to be impressed. Yes, scouring five years of records in half an hour sounded remarkable, but for a man with Amonel’s specific gifts, it was unsurprising. Amonel’s sight gift allowed him to read at an extraordinary rate, and his mind gift flawlessly analyzed and stored the information he read. It was regrettable that his talent for speed did not extend to his storytelling abilities.
Amonel set down the notebook and shuffled it back and forth on the desk. Still smiling, he said, “Four years ago, Councillor Elling—but of course he was only Mr. Elling at the time—tracked a certain amount of currency which had been stolen from the Capital Bank. It was a large theft, eighty thousand chips. I presume you remember that?”
Konner nodded, and Amonel continued, “Mr. Elling found the stolen money by using his scent gift to seek only large numbers of coins. Apparently a heap of coins smells different than a small pile. Imagine that! His gift is really quite remarkable.”
“Yes, yes,” Konner said. “I recall the case, though I didn’t know they had used a gifted tracker in their investigation. They found about half the stolen money. It was surmised the thieves had spent the rest or stored it elsewhere.”
“Precisely,” Amonel confirmed. He opened his notebook and turned it toward Konner. Tiny, handwritten notes and figures covered the pages. Amonel said, “However, I found a discrepancy hidden in the records. When Mr. Elling found the money, nearly all of it was there, seventy-eight thousand chips. Somewhere between discovering and returning the funds, Mr. Elling, ahem, misplaced thirty-seven thousand chips.” As Amonel spoke, his fingertip flew across the page, pointing from one illegible number to another. “It was covered up quite cleverly in the records; I nearly missed it. And every indication points to Mr. Elling being the party behind the deception. I’ve written it all out in this notebook, but I would be more than happy to take you to the Records Hall to show you in person.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Konner forced a smile to his lips. “Amonel, you were right; this information is valuable indeed. I appreciate your help.” He rose from his seat, and Amonel took the hint and stood too.
“I am more than happy to assist,” Amonel said. “I will let myself out.”
“One more thing,” Konner said before Amonel reached the door. “Were you able to cover the use of your gray gifts in the Records Hall?”
“Oh, yes. I wore a lovely woolen hat my daughter knitted for me, along with the large, dark spectacles I had made. I expected to be asked about my odd get-up, but the record-keeper said nothing.”
“The benefit to being eccentric, I suppose,” Konner said.
“Quite so.” Amonel’s hands vibrated in an enthusiastic wave, and he left the room.
The next evening, Konner Burrell and Councillor Remina Birge arrived at a white stone house near the center of Savala. It was on an expensive street, but was itself modest compared to the surrounding homes. Konner rapped on the door.
A woman answered, a young child peeking from behind her skirts. “Good evening,” she said
with a questioning smile.
“Good evening, Mrs. Elling. I’m Councillor Birge.” The woman shook Birge’s proffered hand. “This is Mr. Burrell,” Birge continued. “We have urgent business to discuss with your husband.”
Mrs. Elling appeared hesitant, but her manners got the better of her, and she invited them in, ushering them to the well-appointed sitting room. She excused herself, and a few minutes later, Vellish Elling entered the room.
“What a pleasant surprise, Councillor Birge,” he said. He turned to Konner. “Mr. Burrell, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” They shook hands. Elling sat after encouraging his guests to do the same. Once they were settled, he asked, “How can I help you?”
Konner said. “Councillor Elling, is it true you were a consultant for Savalan safety officers before joining the council?” Elling confirmed it, and Konner prompted, “I admit I’m surprised you haven’t continued that career. Many councillors are unable to support themselves on their council salary alone.”
Elling smiled easily. “I’ve been blessed indeed. An inheritance a few years ago expanded my options.”
Konner nodded then glanced at Birge, his eyebrows raised. She leaned forward and stared at Elling for a few seconds. Though her hair hid her ears, Konner saw her mouth tighten in pain and knew her hearing magic had activated. She smoothed her expression and said, “Vellish, we know about the money you stole from the Capital Bank.”
Elling’s smile disappeared. “I most certainly did not.”
Birge turned to Konner. “Lie,” she said. At that, Elling shifted in his seat, appearing distinctly uncomfortable. He knew Birge’s gift allowed her to detect falsehood.
Konner smiled. “Vellish, it is not our desire to allow the knowledge of your theft to leave this room.” When he saw Elling’s visible sigh of relief, he asked the question foremost on his mind. “How did you avoid encountering resistance when you tracked the money?”
Facing the Gray Page 5